Her Mystery Duke (18 page)

“Jeanne, you live in a virtual brothel in Whitechapel. Now
you’re concerned that a few busybodies here may judge you because I shall be
paying your bills and visiting you?”

“No, you misunderstand. I live there because I had no choice
when Papa became too ill to pay the taxes on our home. Everything we had was
confiscated and resold to pay his debts. People in that boardinghouse do not
judge me because they know what hardship is. But that is my past. My future is
to support myself with real, honest work—not whoring.”

“There’s that word again.”

“Is the truth too blunt for you? I have been a whore.”

“As you say, it is in your past. Neither of us wants to see
you enter that line of work again. I am offering you something from my heart.”
He put his hand on the small of her back. “Come, it is frigid out tonight. At
least have a look at the house.”

She sighed. “If I do, will you then be satisfied with my
refusal?”

A slight tensing of his sensual mouth told of his
irritation. “Just have a look inside.”

With his hand quite fierce against her back, he began
walking towards the house.

“Just have a look inside.”

He was so determined. What else could she say? After he’d
been so kind, so thoughtful of her this evening, it would be churlish of her to
refuse to at least look at the house.

“Oh, very well.”

If he could be determined, so could she. She would have a
look and then leave. It was perfectly safe.

Chapter Eight

Once the door had shut, they were surrounded by darkness.
The air was scented with new paint and what smelled like rose and lavender
sachets. There was a slight chill and Jeanne hugged her shoulders. She heard
him fumbling with something, and then soft yellow lamplight filled the
entryway.

“I have hired servants, but they shan’t arrive until
tomorrow.” He touched her pelisse. She allowed him to help her remove it. He
hung it on a hook by the door then removed his greatcoat.

The house was silent. The sense of seclusion and intimacy
hit her. They were totally alone here. If she called out, no one would hear. No
one would come.

He had paid for this house for the sole purpose of making
her body available for his use. The thought filled her with a definite sense of
the difference in their positions in life. The difference in their power in
this situation.

He picked up the lamp and met her eyes. Something primal
crackled on the air between them. The carnal tension that had developed and
built all evening since he had put his head into her lap and asked her to wear
the evening gown. Edgy energy seemed to spark along her skin. An uneasy mix of
arousal and apprehension fluttered in her belly.

He walked to a darkened doorway to the left.

She followed him, and his lamplight revealed a sitting room
decorated in tones of deep red and blue. A lush sensual place.

A place where lush, sensual things might happen.

Her sense of agitation increased. It was as though she hung
precariously over a precipice waiting for something to push her.

A soft clink sounded. David setting the lamp down. Though
the thick rug muffled his footfalls, she sensed his approach in her skin, like
a magnet’s force upon metal. From behind her, he touched her shoulders. She’d
been expecting it but she still startled. Perhaps it was more enjoyable to be
startled?

He gave her a gentle but firm push.

His resolve made her knees weak and she allowed him to
propel her toward a plush-looking, dark blue velvet divan.

She would have turned but he put his hands on her back and
pressed her down. His forcefulness surprised her. Sent a thrill through her.
She let him press her until she knelt on the deep, jewel-toned, swirling
patterns of the rug.

Her hands touched the soft cushion. The sense of the
crispness of new velvet crushing under her gloved hands gave her a peculiar
notion that her teeth itched.

He swept her hair aside and grasped the back of her neck.
“Don’t move.”

His hot breath tickled her ear and sent a delicious shudders
cascading down her spine. Her nipples stiffened as if exposed to frosty morning
air.

She felt the wrenching motions of him adjusting his
clothing.

“I cannot concentrate, I cannot sleep,” he said. “I think of
nothing but having you beneath me like this.”

Her skirts came up and a whoosh of chilly air assaulted her
bareness. With a slow, sweeping motion, he caressed her buttocks. “You have
surely the world’s most gorgeous arse. The memory of it is forever burned into
my mind.”

Smack!

His hand made contact with her right buttock. A slight
burning tingle bloomed. A giggle forced its way up her throat. A nervous,
bubbly giggle born of pure shock. She ruthlessly suppressed it. He was always
shocking her. None of her other lovers had bothered with such peculiar
preliminaries. He laid several more light slaps to her flesh.

Crack!

He spanked her with more force. Stinging pain erupted in its
wake—and yet it was not pain, for it sent fire directly to her nub. A feeling
of letting go, of giving all of her body over to him swept her. The notion, the
sensation aroused her further. She arched her back, presenting her bottom
unwittingly for the return of his hand. He was really spanking her now,
something she never thought she’d ever allow anyone to do. But the action
continued to send waves of pure carnal heat radiating deep into her belly,
making her nub ever more erect and throbbing. She lost track of how many times
his hand landed on her buttocks. The rhythmic rain of fiery pleasure-pain
consumed her.

She tried to shift her position and touch her cunt, her
aching nub. He stopped spanking her and grasped her hand then placed it behind
her back.

“Don’t move.” His words were a harshly ground out command.

Her heart beat faster in response and she froze.

He dropped her hand and seized her hips, roughly so that she
was sure he’d leave handprints. Her arousal increased until she could only
breathe in short pants.

His cock touched her entrance.

He pushed into her with such force it took her breath. A
wave of pleasure convulsed her. Satisfaction at the way he stretched her,
filled her.

“I think of nothing but thrusting into your softness.” He
nipped the skin of her nape. “Of pounding into you and driving you to come,
until there is room for nothing but me in your thoughts.”

He propelled himself into her, again and again, pounding
against the mouth of her womb. Sensation slammed into her belly, again and
again. Just as he’d said, there was no room for anything in her thoughts but
him. His cock drove her to madness.

He stopped and laid several more firm spanks to her arse.
She knew he was striking hard but she could feel nothing but thrilling sparks
of sensation. Hunger consumed her. Her womb and her nub hurt with the need to
come. She cried out her need in a series of feline-like moans.

He thrust into her, hard. “Is this what you want?”

She moaned.

“Is this what you need?”

She moaned louder.

He thrust into her again and again. Faster and faster. Her
heart pounded in a savage beat. Her cunt pulled tight, so tight she couldn’t
bear it. Oh God, she needed release now. Now!

“Come for me.” He growled the words low.

Pleasure poured over her in a white-hot fury of sensation.
She cried out with it. He increased his efforts until she was writhing.
Screaming. Digging her nails through her gloves into the cushion. Her cunt
convulsed, the spasms coming hard, as fast, brutal, unbearable bliss seared up
through her belly.

He jerked himself from her with such force it rocked her
body anew. The hot surge of his seed splashed her buttocks. His harsh shout
sounded. She collapsed and her cheek fell against the soft velvet. The scent of
new fabric mixed with the odor of sexual intercourse and sweat. She licked her
dried lips and waited for her head to stop spinning and for her breath to slow
to normal. He was the Duke of Hartley.

She’d been spanked and thoroughly fucked by the Duke of
Hartley.

For no particular reason, as the thought came to her, it
struck her as humorous. She laughed, breathlessly, weakly.

“Jeannie.” He caressed her hair. “My lovely, Jeanne.”

His voice was hoarse and breathless.

Her throat was dry and raw. Her breath was forcing itself
out in harsh pants. She couldn’t speak yet.

He stood. She saw his shadow, a long, darker spot that
wavered on the multicolored rug. A touch on her buttocks made her jump. Her
arse was afire, but deliciously so. Each stroke of what must be his
handkerchief was devilishly pleasurable torture. His shadow moved across the
chamber, followed by the sound of what must be wood being placed on a hearth,
followed by the clang of metal. She would have rolled on her side to watch him
but he’d told her not to move. Maybe it still applied. Lassitude made her limbs
weak. To obey him was a strange, unfamiliar pleasure. Slight tingling licked at
her sex and deep in her belly.

Moments later, firelight bathed the walls in tones of rich,
glowing yellow and orange. His boots sounded on the floor as he approached her
again. He stood there and didn’t move to cover her bareness. “This house is
yours. I shall come here, every Wednesday evening. Perhaps I shall visit you on
the occasional Saturday afternoon. It is my decision to come here or not
depending on my schedule and need. You will always be ready to receive me on
those days.”

That had the ability to break through the spell he’d placed
on her. She began to turn. He gripped her neck. “I didn’t say you could move.”

“But—”

“I enjoy watching you like this, with your arse prettily
pink from my hand.”

“I don’t want to live here. I don’t want your money or your
dictates.”

“You do. You just don’t know it yet.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He caressed her back, using that light, teasing touch that
had first seduced her. “Shall I show you, Jeanne?”

“I want only to go home.”

He stroked down until he reached the cleft of her buttocks
and then between them. The touch brought that same feeling of letting down, of
her body giving itself over totally to his desires. Wetness began to flow from
her core once again, her inner lips swelled. “I can see that this is something
that will take most of what remains of this night to show you.”

He touched her wetness then entered her quim with two
fingers. Stretching her, pressing the forward wall.

Need erupted deep inside her. The unbearable nature of the
ache surprised her.

“Do you really want to go back to that dismal little
garret?”

She couldn’t speak. She was struggling hard to hold in a
moan. The pressure of his fingers was building the most exquisitely painful
tension. She longed for him touch her erect, straining nub but he simply
continued to rub her inside firmly with unhurried motions, bringing her close
to the point where she felt she must have relief or explode. Then he eased off.

“David, I—“

“Shh, sweeting.” He began to stroke her inside again.

A moan erupted from her before she could swallow it back.
Pleasure streaked up into her womb, the start of an orgasm so powerful, she’d
not felt its like before. The sensation ebbed but she could feel the next wave
building, stronger now. Wickedly sweet anticipation made her increase the pace
of her panting breaths. The next wave was crashing on her. Oh God in heaven—

He stopped, withdrew his hand and pressed her mons. His
action caused the contractions to ebb into a horrid, tight ball of aching.

A sob tore up from her deepest internals and she pressed her
face into the cushion.

He caressed her buttock. “If you stay, I want you to
remember something.”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Need was choking her.

“If you want me to stop anything I do, you must tell me that
you want ‘a sea change,’ stop or no will not suffice between us tonight. Do you
understand, Jeanne?” He stroked her neck and somehow the tightness in her
throat eased.

“David, I—”

He tightened his grip on her neck. “Just say, yes, I
understand.”

She licked her lips.

“Shall I take you home, Jeanne?”

Panic swelled in her chest. She wanted release now more than
she wanted anything in the world. “I understand.”

God, her voice sounded so hoarse, so desperate.

“Good girl.”

“This isn’t exactly fair, David.”

“Life seldom is.”

The cynicism in his voice sent a chill over her scalp and down
her spine. “What do you intend to do?”

“I intend to show you how much you truly do desire to be
mine. Completely.”

“Are you going to hurt me much?”

“Jeanne.” His voice sounded surprised. “I shall never harm
you.”

“Of course.”

He touched her shoulders and she went limp, allowing him to
roll her over onto her back, and onto the divan. She kept her eyes closed.

He caressed her lower belly. “But I may well…torment you a
little.”

The hard ball of aching desire within her womb tightened
unbearably. She moaned.

“You were meant to be mine, to torment or to pleasure as my
whim dictates. You see, that is why we had to meet as we did.”

She couldn’t tell if he were teasing her or if he believed
what he said. She didn’t care. Nothing mattered but the aching inside.

“Lovers sometimes play with toys, do you know this?”

Why did the word
toy
suddenly fill her with dread? It must have been something in his voice. A
devilish pleasure there beneath his soft tones. He arose. The sound of his
boots on the floor sent shocks of panic into her. Was he leaving?

Soon his footfalls returned. She opened her eyes. He dropped
down to kneel beside the divan and he opened his palm. Two shiny silver balls
lay there. “These are weighted balls. They are made to employ the same type of
pressure inside you as I did previously with my hand. The theory is that a
lover may not always wish to exert the effort to get the same results.”