Lord & Master (7 page)

“I’ll give you more, wife,” he said in a rough and exciting voice. “Don’t you worry about that.”

I could scarcely wait for him rise and come over me. He was sweating, and I found that exciting too. Beneath the scent of a recent bath, I smelled the actual scent of him.

Him in rut
, I corrected, for he hadn’t smelled quite like this before. My position at the end of the tester bed permitted him to stand on the floor. He bent over me from the hips and braced on his arms. It seemed he intended to proceed from there. Was this the way people performed the carnal act? I’d been under the impression couples lay down fully.

“Lift your legs around me,” he said.

I wasn’t sure what he meant until he arranged them. It seemed odd to have my bare heels pressed right on his bare buttocks. Such an intimate bit of contact to have with someone I barely knew!

My gaze slipped to the dramatic upward thrust of his organ.

To my amazement the tip part—the glans—was even bigger than before. Moisture gleamed on the pulsing crown. My tongue crept over my upper lip. Was this wetness a further sign of his arousal?

“Do you wish to touch me now?” he asked.

Did I dare? “Do you want me to?” I hedged.

“Yes,” he said. “Very much.”

The shaft intimidated me less than the other parts. I reached for that, wrapping my thumb and fingers carefully around it. I blinked at the unexpectedly alive feel of it.

“It’s hot,” I said.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“And smooth—apart from the veins.”

His head dipped closer, his nose nuzzling my cheek. “Rub it,” he urged me thrillingly.

A sort of strut seemed to support it underneath. Not wishing to injure him, I rubbed that harder than the rest.

“God,” he said, his neck arching back so that his Adam’s apple stood out clearly. “That’s perfect. Keep that up, nice and slow.”

I hardly minded. Though I craved a repeat of the paroxysm he’d given me, I found touching him very rewarding. His reactions provided me an education I discovered I wanted to acquire.

Finally, when his little gasps had grown sharper and closer together, he caught my wrist and stopped me.

“Don’t you want to finish?” My words were breathless. Watching him take pleasure from my caresses excited me.

“I want to finish,” he said in a voice so deep it made me shudder. “I simply want to do it inside you.”

“That way is better?”

His eyes crinkled. “It is more intimate. Any way that pleases the parties concerned is good. Also, it will formalize our union.”

“It will hurt me,” I said, knowing this but prepared to accept it.

“Hopefully not too much. And only the first time. Because I let you excite me with your hand, I’m not likely to take long.”

Did I relish that idea? On the surface, it sounded considerate, but my pussy truly ached. In that moment, having him moving back and forth in there, as he’d put it, seemed highly desirable.

“Suppose I want you in there a little while, even if I’m uncomfortable?”

His laugh was soft. “You’re a bargainer, aren’t you? Let’s see how it goes once you’ve taken me.”

“Could you do it now?”

He laughed again and kissed me. That was nice. Very nice. I wrapped my arms around him, answering his kisses with gusto. I could tell he liked that, and I was glad to be getting the hang of this. Even as I congratulated myself, his big body shifted, his fingers parting the swollen folds where I had grown wet. I jerked when the tip of his cock touched me. His mouth released mine so he could look at me.

His soul seemed to burn out at me.

“You have no idea,” he said, “what a gift this is to me.”

My eyes stung. He didn’t seem a stranger then at all. Some deeper part of me knew him.

“I would give you anything,” I said impetuously. In that moment, I meant it.

His hand had guided his cock to me. His fingers petted me in that personal spot before sliding around my hip. He gripped the meat of one bottom cheek.

“I’m claiming you,” he said solemnly. “You are the true wife of my body.”

He pushed. My nails dug into his sides as I felt a small
snap
inside. I gasped but he clenched his teeth kept going.

When he was all the way in, he stopped. He stroked the damp hair from my forehead. “Are you all right?”

He was inside me, hot and thick and pulsing like a heart.

“I think so,” I said.

“Let’s see if you feel better if I bring you off with my hand.”

Bringing me off
turned out to be the same thing as finishing me. Despite the tenderness inside me, the paroxysm felt even better than the first time.

He uttered a breathless curse as my pussy clenched around him.

“I’d like to move now,” he said.

I felt so delicious I’d forgotten about him. His face was flushed, little glitters of perspiration standing out on his skin. I found the sight exciting.

“I think I’d like that,” I said shyly.

He kissed me once and tightened his hold on me.

I realized how hard his cock was as he drew it back out of me.

He didn’t pull it out all the way. Instead, when only the head was clasped within me, he pushed back in and groaned.

The second time he did it, my back arched with pleasure.

Oh yes
, I thought, my legs unwittingly pulling him closer.

“
Yes
,” he said, echoing me. He rearranged my calves higher on his back and came forward on his forearms. “Thrust with me, Mia. Take from me while I give to you.”

Whatever my body didn’t understand, he demonstrated. He went faster, fiercer, his hand returning to my hip to control it for the plunges of his organ. His cries of hunger rang in my ears. Watching his face was extraordinary, the way its handsome muscles tightened with alternating need and bliss. His once tidy hair fell across his forehead, his sensuous mouth contracting.

I almost resented the pleasure my body experienced, because it distracted me from observing him. Distracting or not, my approaching bliss couldn’t be fended off. Like water behind a dam it gathered.

My heels dug in behind him to pull my pelvis to his with greater force.

“That’s it,” he groaned, thrusting in hard and deep. My very bones seemed to reverberate. “Mia . . .
Mia
. . .”

His eyes screwed shut as his body experienced its own apparently much-needed convulsion. Wetness flooded me inside.

“God,” he gasped.

As if the sound were a switch, another spasm of ecstasy seized me.

His thumb found my pulsing button and for just a moment my brain flashed white. His cock drove into me one more time, its throbbing swell a sensation I wished I could memorize.

As I sagged to the bed in the aftermath, my melodious sigh didn’t sound like me.

Finished now himself, Damien panted beside my ear. He’d turned his head toward me on the pillow. Not all but a good portion of his weight sprawled on me. Given how tall and muscular he was, this meant I was nearly trapped. To make matters more out of the ordinary, his hand cupped my breast as if it belonged to him. His palm was hot, both our skin sweaty.

For some reason, this reminded me of the groans I’d uttered while I thrust back at him.

Self-consciousness stabbed at me. Should I have enjoyed tupping him so much?

I realized the place he’d been inside me was empty. He’d pulled out of me. His wet organ softened slowly on my thigh. I wanted to stroke it, to explore the way it was now. That made me self-conscious too. I needed to think about what had just transpired, to make sense of it for myself. To my dismay, when I tried to extricate myself from under his big body, he moved more fully over me.

“Damien,” I said, pushing at his shoulder. “You’re too heavy.”

He grunted and raised his head slowly. “Sorry,” he slurred. “Shouldn’t have gone at you like that your first time.”

I didn’t point out I’d
gone at
him just as hard.

“You must need to rest,” he said.

I suspected this meant he was going to leave. Did I want that? My emotions were conflicted.

“I think I should,” I agreed.

He blinked at me. “Okay then.”

He pushed off the bed and stood. Freed now, I sat up myself, finally remembering to tuck my knees together. I didn’t have long to feel like a lady. Without pulling on a stitch, Damien locked his hands above his head and stretched like some glorious, sated animal. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his lengthening muscles—until my attention snagged on his softened sex. The sway of his penis and the pouch beneath seemed the definition of indecent. I shouldn’t look at it. I ought to allow him the same . . . discretion I wished myself.

“Mia,” he said, wrenching my gaze to his.

Was he going to scold me for ogling him?

“I shouldn’t keep you,” I said, hoping to fend this off. “You must want to rest as well.”

He raked one hand through his disheveled hair, which I discovered I preferred to its tidier state.

“Right,” he said. “Until tomorrow then.”

Chapter Seven

REGINA
liked to claim (especially when she tried to rouse me in the morning) that I would sleep through the end of days. This night, however, and for the third in a row, I had trouble dropping off when I closed my eyes.

I got up twice: once to confide a few matters to my journal and a second time to use the unusually grand bathroom. Sadly, these entertainments did not exhaust me. My only diversion then was staring at the ceiling.

All old buildings let out the occasional creak or groan, but Diogenes House harbored unique noises. I kept thinking I heard muffled giggles and feet running. I’d just turned my pillow when I’d have sworn a woman’s shriek split the air. Though the sound wasn’t close, I didn’t think I’d imagined it.

I sat up with my heart pounding.

Was someone hurt? Ought I to intervene? My recent experiences suggested the shriek could have been the result of pleasure. Whose, though? Servants weren’t supposed to consort with each other.

My gaze slid to the door that connected my room and Damien’s. If he was behind it and awake, I didn’t hear him reacting to the cry.

Damn it
, I thought, my private all-purpose curse. I wore a nightgown—a
real
nightgown, not that useless negligee. For good measure, I drew on a robe as well. Tying the belt tight for courage, I checked the corridor.

Silence was my reward for sticking out my head.

I waited and held my breath. Still the shriek didn’t come again. I cocked my head. Possibly I heard another giggle, but it was far away.

My pulse began to settle. No one was being harmed. I could return to bed. As I did, an unexpected twinge of wistfulness touched me. Did I wish
I
were scampering illicitly through the house? Would I have traded places with whoever the shrieking giggler was? I knew little of fun or boldness—even less of rule breaking.

Then again, marrying a man I’d known a day probably qualified as daring.

My venture to the doorway finally caused my weariness to kick in. I was asleep, as the saying goes, before my head hit the pillow.

At some point during the hours of darkness, low male voices slipped into my dreams.

Do you think she’ll be up for it?
one asked.

I don’t know
, another answered,
but there’s nothing wrong with her appetite. She took to bedplay like a duck to water
.

Even in my sleep, I took umbrage at that comment.

She’s beautiful
, the same man mused.
And spirited, from what I can tell
.

You like her
, observed his companion.

Very much. I think . . . I hope she’s what we’ve been looking for
.

I’d curled up on my side underneath the covers. Gentle fingers touched my arm and then my hair, brushing it from my cheek. I made a little noise—pleasure, I think—at the comforting sensation. I was only a girl in some ways, one who’d never felt very loved.

Someone bent, pressing warm lips to my temple.
Sweet dreams, love. I’ll see you tomorrow.

The words echoed in my head when I woke at dawn. I dismissed them as wishful thinking. My husband was too much a stranger to speak to me so affectionately. Focusing on the here and now, I saw what disturbed my rest. A maid who was not Regina was quietly raking out my fire. She had a nice face: not pretty but interesting.

Maybe all the staff in this house were striking in some way.

“Sorry, milady,” she whispered, seeing me sit up groggily. “I didn’t mean to wake you. We got a late start today.”

Dawn was late? But of course it was for housemaids. Their work was supposed to be performed invisibly, as if they were magic elves.

“Shall I draw the curtains back?” she asked.

I nodded. “Do you know if my husband is awake?”

“No, milady. Do you need him for something?”

Did I? I remembered what we’d done last night: how wonderful he’d felt moving over and inside me. Heat coiled between my legs. Was I growing wet again?

“Just wondering,” I said, hoping I sounded casual. I went to the window she’d uncovered. My room overlooked a lovely knot garden, with shrubbery and flowerbeds in ornate swirls. I should have liked to walk there, but a team of gardeners was working in it now. I looked beyond the paths to a rolling green area.

“Is that a stable?” I asked, noting a stone building.

“Yes, milady. Mr. Call is a keen horseman.”

I didn’t
think
her words were meant to have a second meaning, but I blushed slightly nonetheless. “Yes,” I said. “I’ve heard he is.”

I wasn’t much of a rider. I preferred the speed and comfort of traveling in the car. On the other hand, I’d promised to try in good faith to come to care for Damien. Perhaps I ought to learn more of his interests.

“Will someone be at the stable now?” I inquired.

“Oh yes, milady. You’ll find Mr. Reed almost certainly.”

The mysterious Mr. Reed. “What do you know about the stable master?”

The maid had picked up her heavy bucket of cleaning tools, clearly about to leave. My question halted her at the door.