Regency Romance Omnibus 2018: Dominate Dukes & Tenacious Women

by Virginia Vice

  “Don’t make a movement... don’t try to stop me... not a sound,” he whispered again. She felt so sweet in her surrender, until like a strike across her nerve came the cold ice pressing along her skin, overwhelming her senses with a shock of chill through her nerves. She felt him, drawing slow, teasing circles around her body; he turned her over, her back arching against the searing-cold, searching cube, which left trails of damp, freezing wetness across her chest. He rolled it around her sensitive nipples, causing them to perk uncontrollably; and while it made her feel uncomfortable at first, she followed his rules. She didn’t reach to stop him. And before long... with the sensation of his hot breath teasing the freezing water, she didn’t want to.

  “M...” she almost broke one of his rules - she wanted so badly to call out to him, but she stopped herself, her cheeks burning beat-red. She couldn’t see him - but all at once, it stopped. The icy-cold left her body to wriggle in the stormy breeze; she heard his footsteps soft across the Persian carpet. Was he leaving her? Had she broken his rules? Would she be punished - and not in that lewd, hot, filthy way that she had been spanked before for her transgressions?

  Instead, she heard hinges creak - and silence. Deafening silence. The storm began to calm for a brief moment, and even the howl of the wind and the rumble of thunder left her. Her breath began to dance painfully in her chest as she lay prone, blinded; afraid he had left her as punishment. But she couldn’t remove the blindfold to find out. Instead she waited. So agonizingly, she waited; she felt her exposed, femme petals quiver with anticipation; her breath rattle with intensity. She wanted it so badly. She wanted him - but he had vanished, and she laid, quivering. Was he there? She fought the urge to call out. To scream - to beg, to plead. To apologize to him for breaking his rules. She just wanted him again, god please. Just as her anxiety reached a fevered pitch, her breath caught in her throat, and her lips parted to call out to him, when she felt a sharp, panging SMACK against her exposed rear. She yelped, and tensely swallowed it, before she could make too much damning noise.

  It felt so different... not his hand, no. Something different - something small, sharp, stinging... but she loved it, even so. Just like the painfully pleasant stinging of ice-water on her skin, she felt that sharp, quick slap against her rear and it made her every sense buzz with want. She wanted to moan, she wanted to scream, but she couldn’t - lest she ruin this utterly perfect, utterly improper experience.

  Thwap! It rang out against her skin, the mystery object, and she strained, trying to feel just what he had retrieved to torment her with, so temptingly. With each hard slap she felt the pain burn hotter and sexier in her veins; then, again, and it felt so good she couldn’t even breathe. She squirmed on the bed, uncontrollably, her limbs jittering with scarcely-contained pleasure.

  “I told you, my servant... no moving... didn’t I?” she felt her master’s breath tease her ear, and panic struck her brain; she wriggled and vigorously shook her head, stopping herself from crying out. She wanted so badly to apologize, but she couldn’t say a word. “Now you’ll need to be punished... denied,” he huffed. She felt the blindfold untied, and her stolen sight returned - only to find her gorgeous master in front of her, nude, his long, stiff shaft hardened in his hands as he stroked it in front of her. She reached out reflexively to taste it, to feel it - and she couldn’t believe the thought had even subconsciously occurred to her body. In a week, he had unlocked all those desires within her, and now he denied her. And the more he denied, the faster he stroked himself in front of her helpless, hapless body... the more she wanted him.

  She wanted to peep up at him so much, but she couldn’t. She watched. She watched and it hurt, it hurt how good it felt to be denied. She didn’t know what to think - she had never felt something as intense as this pleasure, so intense it felt like she might just pass out from the sensation surging in her veins. He stroked harder, and faster, and now she breathed so hard the moans couldn’t be contained inside of her quaking breast.

  “Not yet,” he insisted; she arched out to try to taste him, and he held her firm, fingers twining between her fiery, damp locks. She whimpered. “Not yet,” he growled again, teasing her; his hot, sweltering tip pressed against her lips and she tried to taste it, but he punished her with a gentle squeeze of her locks. “Behave,” he demanded, “or else I’ll punish you more... you’ll have to watch... is that what you want? Only to watch?” Like an obedient young servant she violently shook her head, feeling so overwhelmed with hot sensation that her breath quivered out a string of unintelligible, whispery sounds. “Tell me, now,” he said, “my pet - you can speak. But only if you tell me what you want.”

  “I want y-you,” the sound erupted from her lungs, having been built for so long in her quaking chest. “I want you,” she reaffirmed.

  “What do you want?” he demanded, squeezing her hair.

  “I want to feel you inside of me again, please, I need it,” she said, craving so badly to feel him; he teased her lips again with his swaying shaft, reddened and bulging beneath his stroking, strong fingers.

  “What do you want to feel?” he demanded explicitly, and the dirtier she talked he dirtier she felt. So dirty, but so damn enticed, like nothing she’d felt before.

  “Now, I want you to enter me and to pump me full of you, please, master, I’m begging,” she quaked, her words barely even understandable as each broke apart beneath the full, flowing force of a moan.

  “Don’t you dare move,” he threatened, stroking her chin; he pumped his length in front of her, before moving to her rear, squeezing it; he gripped what she made out as a riding crop, spanking her again in a hot, punishing flurry. Each one forced her rear up, higher, and higher, until her backside perked high into the air. He teased her sensitive, pillowy femme folds with his hard length, taunting her with the reddened and shuddering tip, slipping it in just an inch. That was enough for her to scream out in intense, gripping pleasure.

  “Don’t,” he teased again. “And you don’t you think about climaxing, not without my permission...” with that she felt her folds erupt in pleasure as he entered her hard and fast, stretching her tight, young folds like she had never known before. She fought hard as started to fill her dirty body with all those perfect thoughts, throwing away the chains of burden and anxiety and vulnerability that had plagued them. She bites her lip, feeling the sensation welling up inside of her. Finally, she could feel him harden stiff inside of her tight depths, and she bit her lip, closed her eyes, her leg trembling; her heart throbbing.

  “Now! Obey your master,” he exhaled sharply as he came to his explosive peak inside of her, filling her over and over again with wave after hot, steamy wave of his masculine, milky release. She came with him, reaching her heavenly apex as the otherworldly, amazing sensations rocketed along every nerve and fiber of her being. They rode their illustrious orgasms out together, him deep inside of her and her quaking against him, doing just what her master told her to.

  When those perfect sensations finally passed, they laid together, squeezing one another tight; listening to one another breathe. Their lips met in soft, sweet kisses; the storm began to subside, and they protected one another from the windows’ cool breezes by squeezing, kissing; gently massaging each others’ bodies.

  “I do love you, Audrey, and I have to have you. For good,” he whispered into her ear as they held each other close.

  “I love you, too. I wasn’t sure, but... I know it now. No matter what... I love you,” she quaked out those forbidden words, feeling so good at the hesitant admission. “But... what can we do? About the duchess? Ana, she knows...”

  “Why do we need to worry?” he asked nonchalantly. “I’m Lord Bryce Parris, remember?” she blinked.

  “I... I know you are, but...”

  “Just let me handle it. Okay?” he smirked.

  She trusted him.

  Chapter 11

  Bang bang bang bang bang!

  A torrent of loud banging startled Audrey awake f
rom a heavenly sleep. She slowly came to her senses, realizing that the day before hadn’t simply been a tawdry, runaway dream. She laid naked, swaddled in the soft silk sheets of her master, the Lord Parris - in his bedchambers, beneath a gossamer canopy, as birds chirped and sunlight streamed through the open windows, the comforting scent of morning dew and fresh grass wafting through the windows. As the clouds of sleep cleared from her eyes she yawned, glancing curiously across the room at the door. Throwing his silken robe over his chiseled body, Lord Parris glanced back at the bed, smiling warmly at his now-risen lover.

  “She certainly can’t make an entrance without waking the entire estate,” he sighed. A little twinge of fear filled Audrey’s heart, and concern vexed her expression.

  “Who’s there? What... what happened?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice quiet over the banging racket outside the bedchamber.

  “Who did you think?” he smirked devilishly. “Time to face all your fears, my darling,” he commented in a playful sing-song. Audrey’s heart raced - she had guessed it was the duchess, but she couldn’t quite comprehend how the duke felt so nonchalant about the situation.

  “M... m’lord,” she murmured.

  “Bryce,” he coyly reminded her.

  “B... Bryce, I’m not sure— you don’t seem worried at all.”

  “Why would I be?” he asked playfully. Audrey blinked, pulling the sheets up around herself and standing up from the bed, letting them hand down her like an elegant silk dress.

  “B... because, this could... this could cause so much scandal—”

  “When have I been one to shy away from scandal?” Bryce grinned and winked at his blushing lover as she skittered towards the door. “I court scandal almost as aggressively as I’ve courted you, Ms. Audrey Fisher.”

  “I don’t think this is the time for games,” Audrey said gravely.

  “Who’s playing games?” Bryce smirked, quite full of himself. “You worry too much. You’re going to have to learn something if you’re going to be with me, Audrey—”

  “M’lord!” Agatha’s voice pierced through the ruckus; the knocking stopped, but a flurry of muffled murmurs continued beneath her authoritative tone. “M’lord, we...” Lord Parris abruptly opened the door, revealing the contents of his bedchamber - including the sheet-clad, surprised, blushing-cheeked maidservant, and his own robe-clad body... and the ruffled bed, behind. In the doorway stood a wide-eyed Agatha, with fury-faced blonde Duchess Francine and Ana behind her. Agatha’s expression of shock faded into one of coy, knowing satisfaction, putting the pieces of the last week’s puzzle together.

  “Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt, m’lord,” Agatha cleared her throat. “But, we’ve... guests, waiting for—”

  “I do mean to interrupt!” Francine exclaimed, shoving Agatha aside. The rather-quite-larger woman grit her teeth at the duchess’s impetuousness, but kept her temper in check, glaring quietly at the blonde in her gossamer, sky-blue gown. “How dare you? How dare you?!” she erupted at Bryce, who stood with his arms crossed just inside the doorway. “I’m fortunate to have at least one friend in this household,” she exclaimed. Ana slunk up behind the duchess, her arms crossed, rage creasing her face.

  “How dare you, you little harlot! London harlot,” Ana exclaimed, pointing a thin finger at Audrey. “I told you from the day she arrived, Agatha, that she’d be trouble.”

  “Trouble for who? Trouble for me, or trouble for you?” Agatha exclaimed, quietly amused. “She’s never been trouble for me, ha!” Francine and Ana started an angry hole through Agatha, who stood firm, satisfied at the turn of events. “If anything, you’ve been more trouble lately than I care to admit in rarified company, Ms. Rancourt.”

  “How could you!” Ana shouted.

  “It doesn’t matter! That whore, sleeping in your bed, using your sheets!” Francine exclaimed arrogantly, marching across the Persian rug. Audrey winced, expecting the same sort of furious slap Ana had given. “I warned you about the duke!” Francine shrieked, vitriol and jealousy thick in her throat. She drew her hand back to strike - only for Bryce to interrupt her with a strong grasp on the duchess’s wrist.

  “Stop,” he commanded.

  “Wh-what are you doing? Unhand me!” Francine shrilly squeaked, trying to pull herself away from his grasp. “She’s using you! The harlot, the whore! Sneaking her way into your life like a viper.”

  “Sneaking?” Bryce chuckled.

  “You slept with her! How could you?! Imagine the trouble it will cause in London!” Francine protested, tearing her hand free, her blistering anger focused on Bryce now. “You’ll be ruined! We’ll be ruined!”

  “We? Who’s we?” Bryce questioned mockingly.

  “Wh... what? What do you mean, who’s we?! I’ll forgive that, just this once,” Francine glared at him angrily.

  “There’s no ‘we’, Francine. You want my station and my position. And my wealth. That’s fine. But you’re not getting it,” Bryce sighed pleasantly. “I don’t need you. I don’t want you.”

  “What?! Don’t test me, Bryce, I’m not in the frame of mind for it,” she snarled. “I’ll forgive you, again, but say something else so outrageous—”

  “Agatha, my dear,” Bryce interrupted the fuming duchess, “is the duchess’s carriage waiting for her outside?” Panic ran through Ana’s face as she saw the exchange, realizing her devious plan was falling apart.

  “I do believe it is,” Agatha commented slyly.

  “What? You’d dare eject me from your estate?!” Francine shouted. “You wouldn’t! Sleeping with this street scum, you’ll never last at court!”

  “You know what, Francine? You may be right,” he admitted coyly, as Audrey watched with a grin slowly growing on her hesitant face. “But I don’t rightly care. I love Audrey Fisher, and no one - not you, a royal court, or any scandal-sheet writers - is going to get in the way of that.” With nothing else she could possibly say in protest, Francine stood, shocked; slack-jawed. Ana swallowed hard. Audrey smiled, wider and wider. “Now, Agatha?”

  “Don’t you dare touch me,” Francine scowled. “I’m not going anywhere—”

  “Time to go, Francine,” Agatha smirked, grasping the diminutive woman with her powerful hands and wrenching her out of the doorway, nearly throwing her onto her rear. Francine stumbled, wincing in pain.

  “Okay, okay, I’m going!” she seethed, tearing herself from Agatha’s grasp. “I can’t believe this. You’ll regret this, Bryce!” she exclaimed in a heated huff, turning on her heels and loudly storming her way through the hall, and down the stairs. Agatha turned and with a motherly stride grasped Audrey, hugging the surprised and sheet-clad young woman warmly.

  “You wear your emotions for everyone to see, Audrey. Somehow, I knew you’d be something special,” she admitted.

  “You— how could you do this to me?!” Ana erupted; even without the duchess to back her up, she seethed with pain and anger. “I... I gave you everything, I... that witch!” she pointed at Audrey. “I’ll tell everyone! You’ll be ruined, you whore,” Ana’s body shook in rage-addled grief.

  “Agatha, dear, I hate to burden you with too much extra work, but how would things in the household go if Ms. Rancourt took a leave of absence?” Bryce asked, concern on his face. Audrey frowned, honestly feeling sorry for Ana, in spite of the vicious blackmail that nearly ended her relationship with the duke.

  “Leave of absence?! I run this household! You think anything would get done without me?!” Ana exclaimed. “That whore, she’s twisted your mind!”

  “I do believe it’s you, who twisted minds and feelings, didn’t you, Ana?” Agatha scowled. “I’ve protected you, I’ve worked with you for years. I trusted you. You were one of mine, and I always protect one of mine,” she rumbled.

  “What do you mean?” Bryce raised a brow, laying his arm gently across Audrey’s shoulders.

  “Ana, I saw that face - I heard you, screaming at Audrey, the day you dragged her into the study. I’m
not nearly as deaf, dumb or blind as you think I am,” Agatha chastised. Ana’s body shook as realization set in. Audrey’s expression hardened, satisfied to see her oppressor treated so harshly.

  “I... I did what was best for the duke! D-do you know what would’ve happened? If the duchess found out?”

  “And then you ran off and told her, to get back at Audrey and Lord Parris, because their love interfered with your plans, didn’t you?” Agatha crossed her arms. “I’ve always backed you up, Ana. And now you’ve broken that trust.”

  “I... you can’t...” Ana stammered.

  “Agatha, can we?” the duke asked.

  “We can,” Agatha’s lip twitched. She sighed deeply. “Ana, you’re relieved of your duties. We’ll arrange for a carriage to take you out of the estate tomorrow.” Ana trembled, hate in her eyes. She stayed silent, crestfallen; shocked, before running back into the hall, stomping her way down the stairs.

  “She’s not the only one, Agatha, I’m sorry to say. You may be a bit short-handed,” the lord said with a smirk, squeezing Audrey tight to his side.

  “Is that right?” Agatha asked curiously.

  “Of course. You’ll also be accepting Ms. Fisher’s resignation from her position,” he chimed happily. Both Audrey and Agatha shot concerned expressions to his smirking face.

  “Wh-what?” Audrey’s voice quivered nervously.

  “Well, you’re going to have your hands full, aren’t you, Ms. Fisher? A bit too full to live the life of a maidservant any longer,” the duke chuckled. Agatha smiled knowingly, bowing as she returned to the hallway.