Lord of the Rakes (35 page)

C
aroline was sitting on a chair in her spare bedroom, feeling a little silly. The bed had been pressed back against the wall, leaving a large open space in front of the door. She sat in one of the dining room chairs, wearing nothing but her shift and stockings. The gold sash with which Philip had tied her to the bedpost was wrapped around one wrist, its loose end trailing across her lap.

She had given all the servants the night off, even Mrs. Ferriday. What was to happen next was very much between her and Philip.

There was a knock at the door. A tremor of uncertainty ran through her. Caroline banished it. Instead, she made herself draw back her shoulders and speak in her most imperious voice.

“Enter.”

The door opened, and Philip did enter. He was naked, and Caroline’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. He was perfect. Perfect. The strength of his body showed in rippling lines of his shoulders, his arms, and his long legs. He was already hard from anticipation, and the sight set her mouth to watering, and the strength of her own need caused her to shift in her seat.

Despite all this, Philip walked into the room with his eyes humbly lowered. Caroline forced herself to patience, and let her greedy eyes wander across the whole of him. She noted the way the candlelight caught in his chest hairs, and how those were so different in color from the curls that clustered around his member. How the flickering light of the fire made such interesting shadows to trace the outline of his muscles. How his always eager organ was standing up straight and tall, as if showing itself off to her.

All this time Philip stood still, waiting for her to speak, to command him. This was what he had asked. This was the lover’s test he had set himself, and her. Tonight, Caroline would command Philip, and they would both find out if he trusted her enough to yield, and if she trusted herself enough to let him.

But as she looked at him, as magnificent as a Grecian statue, Caroline’s body urged her to hurry the game along. If she was in command, her wanton flesh reminded her, she should command his touch. Now. At once.

Caroline gritted her teeth. “Kneel,” she ordered. “Hold out your hands.”

Philip knelt. Even in this, he was graceful. He extended his arms with his wrists pressed together. Caroline looped the gold silk around both wrists in the slipknot he had shown her, and pulled tight. “You are my prisoner, sir,” she told him. “And you will confess to your misdeeds.”

“Misdeeds? I?” At last, Philip lifted his eyes. He held them wide open in a beguiling show of innocent confusion. “Surely not. What have I done?”

Caroline tugged the sash again, harder this time. “You have been thinking of women, sir.”

Philip was silent.

She tugged again. “I say you have been thinking of women. You have been thinking of eyes looking you over with desire. You have been thinking of her hair, unbound, brushing against you as she leans close. And, sir, you have been thinking of her mouth.” Each word fed the flames inside her. As she spoke, she imagined exactly the scene her words painted. She saw him with some naked woman leaning close to kiss him, to take him. It should have made her jealous, but instead, it brightened her own need to a fever pitch. She liked this game, it seemed, and far more than she would have believed possible. “You have been thinking of women’s mouths and lips, touching your skin, your mouth, your most private self.”

“Yes.” Philip let his head droop. “I confess it. I have been thinking of a woman’s mouth.”

“And what have you been thinking?” She was almost panting now. Her nipples ached and thrust out, just like Philip’s swollen member did—greedy, ready, demanding to be touched.

“It is as you say,” he murmured. “I have been thinking of a woman’s mouth tracing a path down my skin. I have been thinking of her kissing and licking me. Making me hard and ready for her.”

“You have even dreamed of this?” She wanted to touch her thigh, to fondle her folds. She wanted Philip to see her doing it so he would know how his words affected her. Perhaps she would. She could do anything. This was her game, and she was in charge here.

“Oh, yes.” Philip lifted his gaze, but just a little, so she would receive the barest glimpse of his blue eyes. “I have dreamed of her lips on me, of her taking me into her mouth, all hard and hot.”

“And touched yourself while you were doing it?”

Philip was silent again, and again Caroline gave the sash a firm tug. “Answer the question. You touched yourself in the most wicked possible fashion while you indulged in this wanton fantasy?”

“Yes, yes, I did.”

Her breasts were heavy. Her breath was tight. She leaned forward, letting her breasts swing. She took note of how Philip gazed hungrily at her every movement, and gloried in all of it. “You thought of this woman licking you, sucking on you, perhaps even fondling you, and you touched yourself, to make yourself even harder.”

“Yes. Oh, yes, I did that.”

“Show me,” she ordered.

He cringed. “Oh, no, I cannot . . .”

“You can.” Caroline felt herself smile. She felt powerful. She felt magnificent, and oh, she wanted him. She wanted him inside her. She wanted this perfect body against her and his proud flesh inside her. But she must control herself. She must see this through to the end. “You will, that I may judge the full extent of your wickedness.”

“Alas! What shall I do? I am my lady’s helpless prisoner.”

With a quick twitch, Caroline released the sash and sat back. She draped the loop of silk over her thigh, letting him know she could bind him again at any moment if he proved disobedient. She let her legs sprawl open and crooked her arm over the back of the chair, as if she were a man, and a careless one at that. The delicious impropriety of her pose flashed through her, tightening her desire further.

“I held myself, thus.” Philip wrapped his hand around his shaft, and Caroline sucked in a long, slow breath. “And I stroked myself, thus.” He began to pump his hand. A flush crept up his face. His eyes lost their focus as lust and pleasure rose in him. “You . . . you see, slowly at first, then faster.”

“Thinking of her all the while?” Caroline’s own hand stole to her thigh and began to rub restlessly. “Of her mouth, of her body?”

“Yes.” Philip loosened his own grip. He wasn’t seeing her anymore. He was seeing the fantasy she spun. He was pleasuring himself slowly and deliberately, but his face was taut with the force of his need. “I thought of thrusting in her.” He gripped himself roughly once more, again pumping, fast. Faster. “She screamed my name, demanding I thrust harder, and faster.”

“You wanted her.” Caroline panted.

“Yes, I wanted her. I wanted her under me, and on top of me. I wanted to make her come so hard, I wanted to come inside her . . .”

“And you rubbed yourself harder, and harder.”

“Yes . . . yes . . .” He gripped himself more tightly, his face wild and almost savage with the force of his lust and his rising pleasure. Caroline was so lost in the magnificence of the sight, she barely remembered that she was not ready for Philip to spend himself. She had other uses for him, many other uses.

“Stop!” she cried.

Philip released himself. He was flushed and panting. His member thrust angrily up against his belly, swollen and gleaming. He dropped down again to hands and knees, striving for control, trying to obey her, and only her. The painful burn of desire ran through her, hot enough to leave her shaking. For a moment Caroline thought she would break their game. She wanted nothing more than to be on her knees with Philip, to have him take her, and thrust into her, now.

She had to take a very long breath before she could muster the stern frown her role required.

“You are a very wicked man,” she said. “I am most dis-
pleased.”

Slowly, Philip lifted his eyes. His gaze was filled with a desire so great, Caroline could barely compass what she saw. If the fire of her need burned, his raged, and yet he did not move.

“What must I do to atone?” he whispered. “How may such a wicked man bask again in his lady’s pleasure?”

Her mouth had gone dry. Her heart was thudding beneath her ribs. Her body was nothing but desire. “Come here.”

Philip crawled forward. Even now he was graceful, powerful. He did not lower his gaze. He came toward her like the hunter that he was, and sat before her on his knees. “I am here, my mistress.”

She couldn’t breathe. She’d never breathe again. She had to have this man. Now. At once. Did he know what this game was doing to her? How being in command of their lovemaking was torturing her? Probably. Philip had always known just what would touch her most deeply. She reached down and knotted her fingers in his hair, her desire making her rough. She yanked his head up so he had to look at her. “You will do to me what you dreamed of having this woman do to you. You will use your mouth on me.”

Pure lust smoldered in Philip’s eyes. “I will do all in my power to please my mistress.”

Caroline let her thighs open a bit farther. Philip leaned forward. She felt his breath hot against her and she groaned. He was laughing. She knew he was laughing. She slapped the back of his head, just lightly, to remind him who was in charge. In reply, he surged forward, pressing his face against her folds. His tongue thrust deep into her, and Caroline cried out with relief and pleasure. Philip licked, once, and again. Hard. Strong. He sucked at her and licked again, taking her as firmly and skillfully with his tongue as he ever had with his member. She cried out, wordless and lost to pleasure. Philip grabbed up her legs and draped them across his shoulders so he could press more closely against her. So he could lick her harder. He dug his hands under her derriere and he squeezed there, digging his fingers into her, spreading her wider yet, even as his mouth found her nub and sucked, hard.

Pleasure spiked, pure and sweet and sudden, and she gave herself over to it, letting her climax lift her up and roll her under, letting Philip fill her to the brim with pleasure just as she wanted, just as she always would want.

At last, the pulsing faded. Slowly, Caroline became able to move under her own volition again, although the warmth of her climax left her feeling heavy and terribly indolent. Philip sat back on his haunches, watching her hungrily. His lips and chin gleamed with her juices, and his member was full and heavy. She smiled, and she stretched, swinging her arms high over her head so that her breasts tightened.

Philip licked his lips. “Is my lady pleased? Is she satisfied?”

Caroline tapped her chin, making a great show of consideration. “Pleased, yes. Satisfied, no. It will take more than this.”

Philip bowed his head. He was trembling. “Then let me prove that I am my mistress’s most humble and obedient servant.”

“I don’t know . . .” Oh, she was wicked. She was cruel, but it felt so very good.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please, mistress. I beg you.” He lifted his eyes, and what she saw there almost broke all the game. “I will do anything.”

Although she did not know how, Caroline knew that with that word, Philip had given her the last of him. Whatever he might have withheld before, he placed it all in her hands now. The game was over, the roles were stripped away. This moment was for real, and what happened next was forever.

Slowly, so dreadfully unsure that she might begin to cry, Caroline slipped from the chair. She knelt in front of Philip. She took his hands, raising him up so that they were eye to eye, each kneeling to the other, each master and servant, each lover and beloved.

She kissed him softly. She kissed him hard. She took his arms and wrapped them around her and felt him melt against her. She leaned back, pulling him down to her, and he followed her, holding her so they came together gently. He rolled her over, and she wrapped her legs around his thighs and arched her hips so he could enter her, sweetly, simply, naturally.

Oh, they would play. There would be a lifetime of games. But there would be this, too. These moments where he filled her, where she kissed him and held him, where they did nothing more than reassure each other, body and soul, that love was real and love was forever. She could stay like this always, just holding him, just feeling him inside her.

Philip lifted his mouth from hers. He took his weight on his elbow, careful to keep his hips pressed to hers, careful to keep himself close inside her. “Marry me.”

It seemed that Caroline had one tiny bit of mischief left in her. “Perhaps,” she answered.

Philip jerked back. He twitched inside her. “Perhaps?” he snapped. “Is that how you answer your true love and master?”

Caroline laughed. She couldn’t help it. She must always find laughter with Philip. “Are you my master, then?”

Determination took him and he grabbed her up, turning them over, bringing her up on top, but he did not let her go. He held her tight against him, crushing her mouth with his kisses, spreading one hand against her back and one against her bottom. She squirmed, and the pleasure nearly made her scream. This only made Philip hold her more tightly. He thrust roughly up into her, again and again, jolting her past thought, until she was only aware of him, his mouth, his body, and her pleasure. Their pleasure. She was coming, coming hard, coming fast, and he still did not stop.