The Dove Formatted

by welis

  Had it fallen out of her pocket?

  Reaching out for it, he glanced from what was undoubtedly a jeweler’s box to Daphne, who stared at him over her shoulder, eyes wide with panic.

  It was definitely hers.

  “What have we here?” he murmured, slowly prying open the box.

  A large, gaudy sapphire ring lay cushioned in black velvet, twinkling in the light from the lamp on the bedside table. He sneered, turning the box to show it to her—though he was certain she’d already seen it.

  “An engagement ring. You accepted this?”

  Squeezing her eyes closed, she shook her head. “Yes … I mean, no … I mean … he told me to keep it until I’d made up my mind.”

  Plucking the little ring from its velvet housing, he tossed the box carelessly aside, holding the piece of jewelry between his thumb and forefinger.

  “A cheap trinket hardly worthy of someone he claims to love,” he muttered before flicking it away from him, landing it on the counterpane just in front of her face.

  He wanted her to be forced to stare at it while he made her regret accepting it … wanted it just out of her reach while he fucked her mindless.

  “What a waste it would be for you to marry that sniveling little milksop,” he groused as he finished unfastening his suspenders from his breeches and began wrapping the pliant leather around one hand. “He would hardly know what to do with a fiery little thing like you. But I do, little dove.”

  He closed his fist and cracked the folded ended of the braces against one palm, watching the effect it had on her. She flinched, her spine going tense, legs trembling.

  “You are mine,” he declared. “Say it.”

  “Damn you,” she growled.

  Gritting his teeth, he brought the leather down upon her arse, sending the medley of her cry and the leather cracking against her skin through the air.

  “Keep quiet, or I will be forced to gag you,” he snapped. “This ends when you give me what I want. Say you’re mine.”

  He swung the braces again, flushing the soft skin of her buttocks pink.

  “Do not make me break you, little dove,” he warned, his patience wearing thinner and thinner the more she denied him. “Say. It.”

  “Sod … off,” she managed between pants, hovering on the edge of beautiful madness.

  He heard it in her voice—the way her control had begun to fray, the urge to give in overcoming her instinct to fight him. Sweat broke out over his skin as he went back to punishing her, cracking the leather straps of his braces against her buttocks over and over again, leaving light welts, red and glowing, crisscrossing over pristine, porcelain skin. His cock grew harder, his body tightening and winding like the string of a crossbow. But his mind had cleared, the heaviness on his shoulders lifting as he poured it all onto her—his rage, his anger, his grief … the overwhelming muddle of emotions she made him feel. Emotions he did not want to feel.

  “This can end whenever you are ready, little dove,” he rasped between heavy breaths, his chest heaving from his exertions. “Just admit it to me … admit it to yourself.”

  “I … I can’t,” she gasped, her voice broken, breaking off on a sob. “Please don’t make me … please, Adam.”

  Seeing that they’d reached the tipping point, he paused, the leather straps held up in one hand. “Why not? It is the truth, is it not? All you have to do is say it.”

  “If I say it … it becomes … real,” she cried, trembling and whimpering, her body covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her arousal practically dripped from her, wetting her thighs, making her pink inner flesh glisten invitingly.

  “What’s more real than this?” he murmured, reaching down to stroke his fingers down her spine. “You, me, every dark desire you’ve ever suppressed and tried to pretend not to feel. It is the realest things you’ve ever felt, little dove. It’s the realest thing there is.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as much as her position would allow. “I hate you … do you know that? I hate you!”

  “I do not require you to love me,” he retorted. “Only for you to submit … to admit that you are mine.”

  Raising his hand for one last blow, he brought the leather down with a rough grunt, leaning down to cover her mouth just as her lips parted on a scream. She howled against his palm, jerking and writhing beneath him, unable to move the way she wanted with her body contorted and bound.

  The moment he pulled his hand away, she gave him what he wanted.

  “Yours,” she whispered weakly, defeated at last. “I am yours … even when I don’t want to be.”

  He sighed with relief and lowered his hand, letting the leather unwind from around his knuckles and fall to the bed. Bending down, he kissed one of her tortured buttocks, producing a sharp hiss from her.

  “Such a good little dove,” he whispered against her reddened skin, brushing his lips over the curve of her arse and down the back of one thigh. “I did not want to push things that far, but you forced my hand. But it’s what you wanted, Daphne, I know it is. For me to break you, tear you apart. It’s what you’ve wanted from the first time we laid eyes on each other. It’s all right to admit it. No one else will hear you … only me.”

  “Yes,” she wept, groaning and panting as he lapped at her swollen, wet cunt, his tongue swirling around her clit. “Yes … Adam!”

  The sweet music of his name on her lips almost proved his end—there was no sound he liked more. But he was not finished yet. Not until she pleaded and begged.

  He took his time tasting her, smoothing his hands over the hot skin he’d just punished, his tongue gently teasing her in juxtaposition. She rocked against him as much as her position allowed, riding his tongue, filling his mouth with her heady, feminine taste. He could spend hours savoring her, teasing her with languid strokes of his tongue. But, as she shivered and moaned into the counterpane, he knew that it would not be enough. He’d already fucked her mouth, but his little dove needed more … and then more. She needed him to fill her in every way possible, to own her, give her the things she’d never dare to ask for out loud.

  “Is this how you want me, little dove?” he teased between gentle tugs on her clit with his lips.

  “No … yes … I-I don’t know,” she stammered.

  He chuckled. “Aye, you do. How about this, little dove … do you want this?”

  She gasped when he sank a finger into her, then another. Squirming and writhing at his fingertips, she soaked the digits in her juices. And still, her moans held a hint of frustration. It wasn’t enough … would not be enough after he’d pushed her so far.

  “M-more,” she whispered.

  He kissed the back of her thigh again in acquiescence, giving her a third finger, twisting and curling them to reach the places deep inside, the places that made her toes curl.

  “Like this?” he murmured against her skin, teasing her with more kisses, more laps of his tongue while his fingers worked in and out of her.

  She was truly gone now, beyond her reticence and beyond her hatred for him, when she spoke the words he’d been waiting for since the moment he’d thrown her onto the bed.

  “Take me, Adam,” she panted. “I am yours … just … please, I need …”

  She seemed incapable of naming her need—but then, he’d never required her to. Coming up onto his knees, he positioned himself behind her, swiftly reaching out to untie the tasseled cords from her wrists and ankles. She fell onto her belly, and he went down on top of her, nudging his cock into the snug cleft created by her closed legs. She was tighter this way, the squeeze of her sheath around him almost painful as he impaled her.

  “Is this what you need, little dove?” he growled into her ear, one hand pressing her head into the mattress, tangling in her hair, the other bracing him over her, bearing most of his weight. “My cock, filling you, stretching you?”

  “Yes,” she moaned into the bedclothes, fingers clutching the damask counterpane, twisting and bunching the fabric a
s he rode her.

  He caught sight of that goddamn ring again—the sapphire glittering in the lamplight and taunting him, tormenting him. Gritting his teeth, he rammed her harder, reaching as deep into her as he could go, attempting to obliterate Robert from every corner of her mind, heart, and soul. She’d loved him once … he knew that. Perhaps a part of her still did. And despite not wanting or needing her love, the thought infuriated him, prodded at the possessive beast inside him that wanted to demand every piece of her … even if he had done nothing to earn it.

  He pulled out of her abruptly, and she gasped, arching her spine and thrusting her arse against his pelvis, attempting to take him back in. Cruel laughter spilled from him as he swiftly turned her onto her back, wanting her to see his face, the look in his eyes when he staked his claim.

  He shoved her legs wide and lunged between them, slipping back into her wet sheath. She welcomed him, arms coming around him, fingers pulling at his hair, nails raking down his back. The sting of her gouging him set him on fire, the heat of her cunt around him turning his blood to liquid fire. He gritted his teeth and rotated his hips, angling his pelvis so that he stimulated her clit with each stroke.

  Propping himself up over her, he reached out with one hand to clutch her throat, his fingers finding the veins thrumming with her pulse. Her eyes widened, her face flushing and her lips parting in anticipation of what she knew would come next—the oblivion no one could give her like he could.

  “I will kill him,” he rasped, pressing his lips against hers as he compressed those veins ever so slightly—just enough to make her heart beat faster, to make her pupils dilate and her breath hitch. “Do you hear me, little dove? If you give yourself to him in any way … I will fucking murder him. I will squeeze the life out of him with my bare hands while you watch, and then I’ll fuck you beside his corpse. He cannot have you … he will never have you.”

  He closed his fingers, cutting off her air supply and giving her everything he had. Her thighs would be sore in the morning, but he wanted that … wanted her to carry him with her, to feel him long after he had pulled out of her. He held her gaze, watched the tumultuous build of emotions, pleasure, and pain welling up in her eyes, compressed in her veins and beating a cadence of pure desire against his fingers. He pressed harder, his own breath coming in ragged pants as he fed off the fear he saw in her eyes, the short moment of doubt she experienced as she wondered whether he would let go or strangle her in a jealous rage.

  He waited until he felt the first flutters of her climax, her body trembling violently beneath him, before he released her.

  “Breathe,” he commanded.

  Her sheath clenched around him at the same time she drew in a deep breath. Then, she was coming apart, her body jerking and shaking under him as her cunt pulsed around him. She clung to him, her fingers tightening in his hair, making his scalp sting and sending even more heat down his spine.

  He was unraveling along with her, his thrusts less precise, his chest burning as he found it difficult to breathe. His entire world narrowed to Daphne, tears in her eyes, a flush on her cheeks, lips parted as she moaned her pleasure and chanted his name.

  Staring down at her, he imagined her beneath Robert like this, her legs spread and her beautiful body bared for him. Her husband, a man who would make love to her with tenderness and care … and never touch the parts of her that Adam had possessed. He imagined her growing round with his babe, smiling and happy as she rubbed her swollen belly through her gown.

  Everything within him rebelled against the notion, his hold on her tightening as his climax loomed near instead of loosening—holding her close instead of pushing away.

  “Mine,” he groaned as his bollocks contracted, sending swirls of heat and fire through his cock.

  It spewed from him and into her in what felt like a never-ending tide. Hot and wet, he filled her, pumping his hips and wringing himself dry, making sure she took every drop into her open and vulnerable body.

  Then, he collapsed on top of her, curling his arms around her and gathering her close, where no one, or nothing, could take her away from him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  aphne came awake, a sudden change in the atmosphere disturbing her sound sleep. She was not certain what it was, but once her eyes opened, she couldn’t close them again—despite the room still being quite dark. Obviously, she had not slept for long, as the moon loomed outside the nearest window, and she could still feel the effects of Adam’s torment. Her arse throbbed like the devil, her channel swollen and sated from his claiming. Her inner thighs were still slick with his seed.

  When he’d finished with her, she hadn’t had the strength to rise from the bed and clean herself up, to put her clothes back on and run as far and fast from him as possible. So, she’d simply lain there and allowed him to maneuver her under the bedclothes. Then, he’d slid in behind her, one arm tight and possessive around her waist as she’d sunk into unconsciousness. For the first time since returning to London, she’d slept soundly, peacefully, without the sorts of dreams that had previously awakened her each morning in a cold sweat.

  After all, she did not need to dream of her monster any longer … not when he occupied the same bed as her, his big body curled around her like a shelter against the storm. A storm of his own creation.

  She was absolutely mad. That must be the only reason she could lie in his arms and accept the things he’d done, the things he’d said, the threats he’d hurled at her concerning Robert. A normal woman would have been disgusted by his crudeness, alarmed by his claim that he would kill Robert if she wed him. Yet, that part of her … the part she kept hidden in the dark recesses of her soul, had reveled in such primal lust. It stretched like a cat being scratched, arching its back and purring with pleasure at the thought of being wanted to the point of such insanity.

  Murder. Adam was willing to commit murder to keep anyone else from having her. Even now, despite the soreness in her body, the signs of her own lust began to rise to the surface—her nipples pebbling into tight buds, her cunt clenching from wanting him back inside her. Her own moisture slicked the way, mingling with what he’d left behind.

  Turning onto her back, she issued a deep sigh at the reminder of what he’d done. She had been so out of sorts, she hadn’t even offered a protest when he’d seated himself inside of her and spilled his mettle, flooding her insides with possession and life.

  Could she, even now, be with child? The notion terrified her to no end. If she bore his child, then there would be one more thread tying her, Adam, and Bertram together … one new way that she could be exploited by either of them to get back at the other.

  Whether she turned out pregnant or not, she needed to get away from them both—away from London and the scorn of the ton. The two of them could use it as their battlefield if they wished, but she would be damned if she simply stood in the crossfire and let them obliterate her. Coming to London had only been a good idea when she’d assumed Adam would remain in Dunnottar … that his vendetta against her family had finally come to an end.

  Turning over in the bed, she found the space beside her empty. The sheets were no longer warm, though they did still carry Adam’s scent. Sitting up, she gazed around the room and found that a fire had been stoked in the hearth to keep it warm, but saw no sign of him.

  Perhaps that was what had awakened her, the shift in the air telling her that the bed beside her was now empty. She ought to go back to sleep, gathering her strength to depart at dawn. She needed to return home and mull over her options, chart her course for the future.

  However, something drove her to fling the covers away from her body, to rise from the bed and seek out her clothing. Stepping over the leather braces that Adam had used to punish her buttocks, she shivered, tearing her eyes away from the mesmerizing sight of them curled up against the rug. She had thought nothing could feel more tortuous than his hand cracking against her tender flesh, but last night, he had proved her wrong.

  Findin
g her gown nearby, she swiftly slipped into it, fastening the back as best she could without assistance. Glancing over at the door connecting this room to the master suite, she wrinkled her brow, recalling the events of the night before clearer now that the haze of her rage had abated.

  Stay with Olivia … no laudanum.

  Had she truly heard him say those words to Niall? Perhaps Olivia was in the next room, and Adam had left her to look in on his sister.

  She crossed the small space to the door and slowly turned the knob, carefully pushing the panel open. The soft creak hardly disturbed the quiet of the room beyond, and she knew before she’d even peered through the gap that Adam did not occupy the room. His tangible presence was absent, though the mingling of firelight in the hearth and the moonlight outside illuminated the two forms sharing the bed.

  Her heart squeezed painfully at the sight of Niall, shirtless and lying on his back, Olivia’s slight body pulled against his side. Her upper body was sprawled over that massive chest, dark hair splayed out over his shoulder, one strand clinging to the stubble on his jaw.

  She looked paler than Daphne remembered, her tiny body even smaller against Niall’s larger one. White strips of linen wrapped around her wrists and forearms had Daphne wrinkling her brow. Had she been hurt? That would explain her presence in London. If she had been injured somehow, then it would make sense that the servants of Dunnottar would want to bring her here, where she could be close to the men who cared for her so well.

  Slowly closing the door, she backed away from it and went in the opposite direction, to the one leading out into the corridor. The moment she stepped into the hallway, the sound of music gave away Adam’s present location in the house. On the level below this one, the largest drawing room in the house held the instruments that had often been played when her mother had hosted musicales. It was there she knew she’d find Adam, his hands making that haunting melody with the pianoforte.