With Trudie, it was not unlike having congress with a virgin. She was deliciously tight, and he was satisfied that it was so because no other man had spread her legs before. He was now steadily pumping in and out of her, his pelvis slapping against her rounded rump. She grunted between uneven breaths and muttered unintelligibly. It was undoubtedly an uncomfortable position for her, being pressed into the hard floor with her arms pinioned behind her and her legs spread. “Spend for me,” he said.
Her grunts became cries. A few minutes later, her cries culminated in a wail, and her body fell into that familiar paroxysm. She shuddered beneath him, and it was enough to send him over the edge to join her in carnal rapture. He pulled out just as his shaft erupted, draining the tension that had built in his groin. Delicious shivers racked his body as he spent more violently than he could remember. He trembled against her till he had emptied his seed upon the floor.
When the explosion had settled into a hum in his body, he collapsed beside her to catch his breath. He closed his eyes, still in amazement at the splendor of it all.
Realizing her hands were still tied, he propped himself up and undid her bonds. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. He took a hand and kissed it. "I pray you spent well?"
She said nothing at first, and he worried that he had been too rough with her.
"I did...thank you," she said at last.
Relieved, he lay down and looked up at the ceiling with her. Various emotions still warred within him, but he came to a decision.
He would stay a while at Château Follet after all.
Chapter Six
TRUDIE BOLTED TO HER FEET and fled the room. Seconds ago, she had lain beside a masked stranger after having had congress with him. She had even thanked him. What a shameful adulteress she was!
Ensconced in her own room, she sat down at the vanity, removed her mask, and peered into the looking glass, half expecting to see a changed reflection of herself. A single lamp had been left lit in the dim room, but she saw the same round face, save for the more than customary crimson flush, staring back at her. Committing adultery had not transformed her into an ugly monster.
Rather, the blush in her cheeks became her, and even the disarray of her coiffure was not without a bucolic charm. A man had found her enticing enough to seduce. She could not deny that it had been thrilling. More than thrilling. Unimaginable. She had spent – not once, but twice. And it had been glorious, the most exquisite sensation her body had ever known. But such bliss had occurred at the hand of a stranger. How could it be, when she had not ever done so with her own husband before, a man whom she loved and found more than alluring?
She felt her flush deepen as she recalled how her body had succumbed. It had betrayed her better judgment. He had been inside her, his fingers, his...shaft. Inside her most private parts. The penetration had hurt at first, though not nearly as bad as it had upon her marriage night. Tonight, for a few minutes, she had wished to be anywhere but pinned beneath him, speared upon his stiff erection. But then the arousal took over. She was no match for the more primitive carnal desires. The sensations that followed were the most delicious she had ever known. The evidence of the rapture still clung to her thighs.
Now came the remorse. The shame. How could she have done what she had? It was a mistake to come here to Château Follet. She should never have allowed her friend, Diana, to talk her into coming. She should flee, return home and contemplate the sin she had committed. Despite the late hour, she stood and began to pack her belongings.
"Whatever are you doing?"
Trudie looked up to see her husband's beautiful cousin. Diana had been in the company of a flaxen haired Adonis earlier, unabashedly flirting with him.
"I cannot stay," Trudie replied.
Diana raised a single brow. "I thought we had discussed the matter. You owe your husband nothing. Leopold broke his vows first."
“Two wrongs do not make a right."
"No, they do not, but they make an equivalency, and it is not unfair to pay a wrong with a wrong."
"I cannot perceive it to be so. I feel far too wretched!"
"But why? Your being here... oh! What has happened?" Diana approached the bed where Trudie had placed her portmanteau.
Trudie began to tremble. "I met a man."
Diana's eyes lit up. "Truly! That is wonderful! Who is it?"
"I do not even know his name, which makes it all the more awful," Trudie groaned.
"Not at all. In fact, it is much better that way. You need not worry of ever crossing paths with him. But you must tell me more! Was he handsome?"
"I could not tell. He wore a mask. I do not care if he was handsome or not. I wish it had not happened."
"Don't be such a silly ninny. Did he—you—both—”
"I do not think I can speak of it."
"And here I had come expecting to find you bored out of your mind. This is wondrous! You ought to take pride in your liaison. Our husbands, Leopold and Charles, have had their mistresses for some time. Now it is our turn to have a little merriment. Where is your mystery lover now? Why is he not with you?"
"I neither know nor care. I fled from him and hope to depart the château as soon as possible."
Diana put her hands on her hips. "And where do you expect to go? Considering the lateness of the hour, you cannot leave."
Realizing this to be true, Trudie sank down onto the bed. A numbness crept into her. She did not think she could wait till morning to make arrangements, but she saw little alternative.
Diana threw her arms about Trudie. "I am so happy for you, my dear! If I were you, I would seek out your mystery lover. Why spend the night alone?"
Trudie shook her head vehemently. "He is the last person I wish to see at present."
"Well, I am sorry to hear it and hope you will change your mind. I must not keep my gentleman waiting or he will be cross with me."
With a final embrace, Diana took her leave. Still feeling miserable, Trudie stared at the wall before her. What was she to do now? What would she do when she returned home? When she faced Leopold?
“What a wretch am I,” she grumbled to herself, putting her head into her hands. “I must pay a proper penance for my deeds.”
“That can be arranged.”
Trudie leaped off the bed and whipped around. It was him.
HER HEART JUMPED INTO her throat at seeing the source of her debauchery, his tall form filling the doorway. He still wore his mask, and she realized she did not have hers. The odds that he knew her were slim, but she was tempted to grab for her mask, which, alas, lay out of arm’s reach. Moreover, her feet were frozen to their spot though every nerve urged her to flee.
“You left without a by your leave,” he said in a stern tone.
She found it difficult to swallow.
“Did I err in judgment?” he asked more gently. "Did you not spend in pleasure?"
Her legs began to quiver. She told herself she ought not fear this man as much as she did. She sensed that he was capable of gentleness, but he had manhandled her forcefully and without apparent qualm.
Finding her voice at last, she said, "If I did, it was an error."
"Error? How can that be? Did you not enjoy it?"
"Yes, but – I mean, no. I ought not have. It was wrong."
"And all the more tantalizing for that reason." He pressed his lips together into a line as if vexed with her.
"In the moment perhaps. But it was wrong and not worth the consequences."
His countenance lightened. "You wound me, madam."
He advanced a step into the room. She immediately took a step back. "Your pardon, sir. It is only – I am married."
Tears pressed against the back of her eyes.
"As am I."
Her eyes widened at what he had said. She saw no wedding ring upon his hand.
Seeing her gaze, he answered, "My ring is safe in my bedchamber. It is far more effective if I do not wear it here at Château Follet."
<
br /> "You may be at ease with being an adulterer, but I am not."
He stiffened. "Did you not say that your husband had already broken his vows?"
"Yes, but it is different for a husband."
"Why?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is it not hypocritical to expect a wife to be faithful when her husband is not?"
"It is different for a man."
"You expect that women should adhere to higher standards and deny themselves the same pleasures that men avail themselves of?"
"You sound very much like my friend."
"Perhaps your friend has the more enlightened view."
Trudie looked down in consideration. She wanted to believe what Diana and he said. But it was difficult.
"I think some allowances must be made for husbands who have been compelled to marry wives who are not so captivating."
“You think your husband does not find you captivating?"
She met his gaze. "I'm certain of it."
"I beg to differ. You are more than captivating."
"I am no woman of great accomplishment –"
"You are an accomplished pianist."
"My sole talent. I am not otherwise accomplished. I do not dance elegantly, I do not converse with wit and cleverness, I do not –"
"You spend beautifully."
Her pulse quickened. Once more warmth grew inside her body. But she ought not give in to such temptations. She ought not give in to his seductive ways.
"I have committed a terrible sin. I bid you take your leave, sir, that I may contemplate my wrong in solitude."
"What of your penance? What shall you do?"
"I know not, but I would do anything to make it right."
To her horror, he closed and locked the doors behind him. "What – what do you do, sir?" She had been lulled into comfort during their dialogue, but comfort with him was misplaced.
"Finding a way to make it right. Perhaps penance can be arranged."
HER MIND REELED.
He continued to advance into the room. “You have been a naughty little miss, have you not?”
She backed away. What did he intend to do?
As if sensing her fear, he said, “Worry not. You will thank me at the end—as you had done before.”
She was aghast. Thank him? For what? “I asked you to leave, sir,” she said, her mouth turning dry.
“You do not have the privilege of issuing commands here.”
“I beg you to consider the request of a lady.”
“Are you a ‘lady’?” he challenged, coming around the bed. “Would a ‘lady’ be wet with desire between her legs?”
She flushed. The area between her thighs pulsed. Dear God, it was happening again. She backed away from him, but he had her cornered once more. Behind her: a wall. To her left: a wall. To her right: the bed. And in front of her: him, standing but a foot from her.
“I think a proper education in the carnal arts is all you need.”
“What you contemplate is wrong,” she murmured..
“It is what you came to Château Follet for,” he reminded her.
There was no reasoning with him. Her best chance was to escape. When he reached for her, she dove toward the bed and tried to scramble over the top of it. He caught her and once again she found herself trapped beneath him. When she attempted to push him off of her, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the bed.
“I see you favor playing the damsel in distress,” he remarked.
She could feel his breath and caught a glint in his eyes through his mask. She started. There was something familiar about his eyes.
“You need not fear,” he continued. “You will take pleasure in all that I do to you.”
She shook her head, not wanting to believe it possible.
“I shall scream,” she warned.
“Screams are commonplace here, but if you truly wish for me to go, I shall.”
When she hesitated, his mouth descended onto hers. His lips captured hers, muffling her protests and blurring her thoughts. She could not think clearly when kissed by him. Her mind fought to surface above the currents that waved through her body and seemed to collect between her thighs. How was it possible she could enjoy this, enjoy being surrounded by his strength, restrained against her will? Because this man, unlike Leopold, desired her. This stranger was the only man to desire her. The warmth inside her grew as his mouth coaxed hers to open. His tongue met hers, teasing and wanton. Closing her eyes, she gave in to the lovely assault, allowing him to delve and probe every recess of her mouth.
No, no. She ought to resist. She should not permit herself to be so pathetic as to allow the stranger to seduce her a second time. Though she knew it to be futile, she struggled against him. In response, his hips pressed her further into the bed. The kiss became both a duel and a dance as she wavered between resisting and surrendering. His mouth pressed harder, rougher, and to her surprise, the intensity only added to the thrill. He kissed her long and hard till she grew breathless, till her jaw was sore, and her resistance wearied. When, at long last, he separated his mouth from hers, she could form no words above her panting.
He gazed into her eyes. "Much better. Now, if you do as I bid and please me, I shall have no cause to set to lecturing you. Indeed, I may have cause to reward you if you are obedient."
Obedient? Did he speak to her as if he meant to train a pet dog?
Grabbing her, he pulled her off the bed. He transferred both her wrists to one hand while his other hand yanked off the sash that held the bed curtains in place. He used the sash to bind her wrists together.
Panic formed anew in her throat. "What do you intend?"
He pulled her onto her feet and toward one of the bedposts. He pulled off another sash and used it to tie her wrists to the bedpost. "Please," she pleaded.
"Did you not say you wish to pay penance for your deeds?" he asked, crooking a finger and running the knuckle along her décolletage. His fingers skimmed the tops of her breasts. "Did you not say that you would do anything to set it right?"
"But how is this to serve such purposes?"
"You shall see."
What came next dismayed her greatly. He circled his arms about her and began to feel for and remove the pins that held her dress together. He meant to undress her!
"No... Please..." She prayed he did not intend to reveal her form. How she wished she had Diana's slenderness or a body worth exposing, any body but hers. Without the pins, her bodice loosened. Realizing the sleeves still encased her arms he gripped the fabric and tore it. The garment slid off her shoulder.
"Dear God," she whimpered.
He did the same to the other sleeve. The top of her dress slid to the floor, leaving her arms bare, her corset revealed. Her ample breasts swelled high above the undergarment. He stood to admire them before lowering his head to kiss them.
"Captivating," he said after he had raised his head. His tone made her shiver. He untied her skirts and petticoats next. She watched in dread as he pulled these down to the floor. She could only hope that he would go no further.
He cupped the side of her face and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. It was a gentle caress that caused her heart to palpitate as much as his rougher movements. He replaced his thumb with a finger, which edged closer and closer into her mouth. She took in his digit as if it were the most natural and obvious thing to do. She tongued his finger and sucked. When she dared to meet his gaze, the look of lust smoldering in his eyes beckoned her own arousal.
"Well, well,” he murmured, “I think we may make a wanton of you yet."
Chapter Seven
SHE BALKED. SURELY HE jested. She was a good girl. She had always been a proper and decent young woman.
Yet, she could not deny that she had willingly taken his digit into her mouth and sucked it readily. She had come to Château Follet to indulge in criminal carnality. She was now an adulteress. Was she not a wanton jade already?
As if sensing her
pain, he added gently, "Worry not. You will enjoy every minute of it."
She looked at him with defiance. She may have committed a wrong, gone down the devil's path, but she need not worsen her guilt.
"My friend will return at any moment," she warned.
He leaned in closer, and she could feel his heat, smell his essence. It was vaguely familiar.
"A nice attempt," he whispered, "but your friend is in the embrace of a compelling fellow. I doubt she will return. She is a woman given to indulging her passions and has not your reservations."
She struggled to find a threat that would affect him, finally deciding on, "I shall tell Madame Follet of your behavior. She will not condone it. She may ban you from her château."
He kissed her gently beneath the ear, making her shiver. With his lips, he continued to softly caress her neck.
"Perhaps not," he agreed, "but it will be worth the exile if I can have my way with you this night."
She tried to suppress her groan. Her legs weakened. Leopold had never said such things to her, and as she was one who rarely engendered compliments, she had to admit that her starvation for attention lent greater potency to his words.
"I suggest you follow in your friend’s footsteps," he said, now mouthing her throat, "for that is what you had intended all along."
But I had intended not to see it through, she thought to herself, until you came along. But there was no use in placing blame. She was not faultless and had been a willing party to her own demise.
His lips seared the soft spot beneath her jaw, draining her resistance. How was it she could be so easily seduced by this man? Was it so easy for her to succumb to any man willing to desire her, or was it this man in particular who held sway over her?
His arm reached behind her and began to untie her skirts.
I must not allow this. She resorted to bribery. "Sir, if you will desist, I can offer you ten pounds—"
He snorted.
"Fifty pounds, then."
"Does your husband allow you that much pin money?"
His kisses now trailed down to her décolletage, and she could not stay her bosom from heaving.
Surrendering to the Baron (A Steamy Regency Romance Book 7) Page 4
