Lord Savage (14 page)

“Do you?” I breathed. How was it that his words alone could cause the arousal now
flickering through me?

“I do,” he said, his voice lowering to the near growl that only made me hotter. “From
the moment I saw you in that ballroom, I’ve wanted you. I’ve wanted to fuck you, fuck
you so long and hard and well that you’d be overflowing with my come, and it still
wouldn’t be enough. I’ve wanted to fuck you so you’d never stop wanting me, or thinking
of the next time we’d fuck again.”

“I want you now,” I said, almost dizzy with longing. How could I not be, when he promised
so much? “I want you even though we haven’t—haven’t—”

“Say it,” he said, teasing me. “Say it properly. Forget you’re a lady, and say it
like a woman who wants a man.”

I swallowed. “I want you to fuck me, and do everything you say, my lord. And—and more.”

He grinned. “Are you saying you will stay, Mrs. Hart? That you will be my Innocent,
and accept me as your Protector?”

“Yes,” I said eagerly, my last doubts evaporating. “Oh, yes, Master.”

He folded his arms over his chest, the robe slipping over his muscled biceps, and
leaned back in the chair. “I’m not sure I should believe you, Eve.”

“No!” I gasped with dismay. Then I realized he’d called me Eve, and that he’d seamlessly
begun the Game again. “That is, Master, I regret that you do not believe me.”

His smile was slow and wicked. “Perhaps I should test your obedience, Eve, and judge
for myself if you are prepared to be an obliging Innocent.”

“Whatever pleases you, Master.” I pushed my hair back from my face and sat upright,
prepared to do whatever he might ask. I hoped it would be within reason, and even
if it wasn’t, I’d a reckless feeling that I would do it anyway. Savage had that effect
on me.

“Very well, Eve,” he said. “You must prove it to me. First I would have you stop clutching
that sheet in such a show of empty modesty, and bare your breasts to me.”

“Yes, Master.” That was easily done, and at once I dropped the sheet and shoved it
down around my waist. I straightened my spine to raise my breasts higher, and smiled
proudly.

“A fair beginning.” His gaze immediately dropped to my breasts. “Now I want you to
rub your nipples until they’re stiff.”

I blushed again, and gingerly covered my breasts with my hands.

He shook his head. “Not like that, Eve. Don’t be gentle. I want you to pinch your
nipples, pull them, twist them until they’re as hard and red as ripe cherries.”

Still I hesitated. It was not so much embarrassment that held me back, but simply
not knowing what to do, the same as it had been earlier with Simpson. When I was very
little, I had a nursemaid who’d slapped my hands if she caught them beneath the bedcovers,
and the training had stuck with me since then. I didn’t touch myself anywhere.

Until now. I gave my breasts another uncertain squeeze.

“Harder, Eve,” Savage urged. “Remember what I did to you last night, and do it to
yourself. Think of me, and do it.”

Thinking of him not only made it easier, it made me imagine his hands on my breasts
instead of my own, his large, slightly rough fingers squeezing and tugging at my nipples
and caressing the full, pillowy flesh around them. I remembered last night, just as
he’d bidden, and how I’d twisted and arched with abandon on Savage’s lap, on the same
chair where he sat now.

I drew my nipples out and pinched just the tips, exactly as he had done to me, and
gasped at how the pleasure shot straight through my body to my core. I lifted my breasts,
cradling them in my hands and then crushing then back against my ribs, and in return
my breasts seemed to swell in my hands, aching with sensation.

My lips parted, and my breath broke into a ragged panting. I pressed my thighs tightly
together because I couldn’t help it, thankful that the sheets still covered me below
the waist so he couldn’t see how shamelessly I sought to ease the growing ache there,
too.

Not once did I look away from Savage. I was determined to let him see that I could
be as obedient as any other Innocent, and do exactly what he asked. Besides, the sight
of him stretched there before me, watching me so closely, served only to feed my desires,
as if he were the prize for my performance.

Though of course, after the last time, there were no guarantees.

“My greedy little Innocent,” he said. He was trying hard to remain calm, a worldly,
blasé observer, but his face was flushed and his breathing was growing as irregular
as my own. “You like to have your tits squeezed, don’t you? Even if you must do it
yourself?”

“Yes, Master.” I gasped, and my fingers spread widely around my trembling breasts.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he said, his voice a growl. “You’re on fire now,
aren’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” I whispered hoarsely. “I—I feel it everywhere.”

“Where?” he asked. “Tell me.”

“In my—my lower parts,” I said. “Like last night.”

“Then make yourself come, Eve,” he urged. “Don’t stop. Remember last night, and frig
yourself until you spend.”

“Oh, Master, I do not know if—”

“You can, Eve, and you will.” He reached out and yanked the sheet and coverlet from
the bed, baring the rest of me to his view. “Your quim’s so red and open already.
You’re nearly there now, aren’t you?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Slowly I slid one hand down my belly and through
the thicket of chestnut curls, to the part of me that I’d only truly discovered last
night.

My
quim,
that was what he’d called it, another forbidden word I’d heard but never spoken.
I was slippery and swollen, and I shuddered as I explored by touch and sensation.

I rocked forward onto my knees and spread my thighs, opening my lips and building
the tension further. I found the small nubbin that had been so electrifying last night,
and even the most grazing of touches was almost too much. Gently I pressed the pads
of my fingers over it, making tiny dancing circles, and squeezed my eyes shut to block
out everything else. I was shaking, shuddering, and gasping for breath, my entire
core gathered and knotted and begging for release.

“Almost there, Eve, almost there,” Savage whispered hoarsely, now close beside me.
“Push your fingers inside and feel how tight you are, tight and ready for me.”

His voice sent me over the edge, and everything that had been wound so tightly inside
me flew apart. I cried out with release, my legs turning so weak that I toppled backward
against the pillows. I gasped for breath and twisted voluptuously as the last contractions
shuddered through me, lost in pleasure.

Lost, but not for long. I felt the mattress sink and dip as he climbed onto it beside
me. Still breathing hard, I opened my eyes, not daring to hold out my arms in welcome
again.

But this time there was no question of his leaving: I’d only to look into his eyes
as he rose over me to see that. All semblance of gentlemanly restraint had vanished
from his face. His usually elegant features were fixed and hard, his eyes dark with
lust. He’d stripped away the robe, and as he loomed naked over me, he seemed at once
harshly primitive and supremely beautiful.

My gaze lowered to his cock, the veined length as hard as if it had been carved from
wood, the head broad and purple, and for a fleeting moment I wondered if I’d be able
to accommodate him.

He kissed me once, his mouth slashing roughly over mine as if he wanted to devour
me. I threaded my fingers into the black silk of his hair, and opened my mouth wide
to deepen the kiss as he pressed me into the mattress.

Though my last climax had barely passed, I was desperate for him, my need and excitement
making me tremble. I knew I was supposed to wait for him to lead me, but I couldn’t.

“Please, Master, now,” I whispered into his ear.
“Now.”

He made a wordless growl and nipped the side of my throat. Then he reared back, grabbing
me by the hips to center me on the bed. I spread my legs wide in encouragement, and
shamelessly offered my still-swollen and wet quim to him. He took his cock and guided
it between my nether lips. He took one quick shove to settle himself in my notch,
then buried himself deep, to the end of my depth.

I cried out, not from pain but from wonder. I was so slick that he’d entered me easily,
stretching and filling me in a way that I’d never imagined.

It was what I’d wanted, what I needed, and what I’d never had, and, heaven forgive
me, I never wanted it to stop.

I lifted my arms to encircle his shoulders, and he seized my wrists and pushed my
arms over my head, pinning my hands there. Yet, I felt freed, not trapped, as if my
whole being were now centered on the place where we were joined. He ground his hips
against mine, and I answered instinctively by curling my legs around his waist.

“My god, but you’re tight,” he said, groaning as he slammed into me, filling me again
and again. “I could fuck you forever.”

“Then try,” I said raggedly. “I—I wouldn’t stop you.”

“You wouldn’t be able to,” he said, his breathing harsh. “You’re so damned hot, Eve,
you’ve made me like a bar of iron.”

He growled into my shoulder, still holding my hands over my head as his cock worked
inside me. With each thrust his cock dragged over my sensitized channel, and I felt
myself tightening around him, drawing him deeper. I was close to spending again, and
I couldn’t keep back the sharp little cries that matched the rhythm of his strokes.

He’d been right: this wasn’t lovemaking. This was too powerful, too demanding, too
insistent for mere love. This was fucking, and I couldn’t get enough.

He was moving faster now, harder, pounding into me as droplets of sweat fell from
his chest. His handsome face was contorted with concentration and effort.

“Come with me, Eve,” he said, thrusting long and hard with his climax. “Fuck me
now.
”

My torrent broke an instant after his, squeezing and milking his cock as he spent
into my core. I cried and twisted beneath him, riding the waves of pleasure to their
end.

As good as last night had been, it paled beside this. Everything did.

“Thank you,” I managed to say, panting beneath him. “Thank you, Master.”

“No,” he said, and that was all. Nothing more. It wasn’t exhaustion that made him
silent, or the way he still was laboring to recover his breath. I could see that.
This was different. Something inside him had changed, leaving his blue eyes shuttered
against me.

He released my hands and pulled free of me. I caught my breath as his still-hard cock
slipped from my body, leaving an emptiness I hadn’t expected. But there was no doubt
that he’d come inside me: his seed mingled with my juices to spill from me, warm and
sticky.

“Here,” he said, handing me a handkerchief that he’d taken from the bed table. “Use
that.”

I wished he’d kissed me, or said some little endearment, but that, apparently, was
not what a Protector did. The handkerchief was the finest Belgian linen, neatly pressed
and marked with his family’s crest embroidered in one corner, and almost too good
to use for such a tawdry purpose. There was a neat stack of them on the table, at
least a dozen, a convenience I hadn’t noticed last night. I supposed it was good that
he was prepared, and yet somehow that tidy stack seemed like a little too much preparation.
Did he truly plan to fuck me all day, and all night as well?

I cleaned myself as best I could. My wrists burned now where he’d held them, and I
flexed my fingers to make the blood return to my hands.

“Are you all right?” he asked. He was lying on his back, watching me rub my wrists.
“Did I hurt your hands?”

“Not much,” I lied. “They’ll feel better soon.”

“I didn’t intend for that to happen,” he said, looking at my wrists and not my face.
“None of it.”

I shrugged, and smiled, trying to lighten his mood.

“I didn’t mind, Master,” I said. “In fact I rather liked it. All of it.”

He smiled bitterly, but without any humor. “A rotten sort of master I’ve turned out
to be, eh?”

“Oh no,” I said quickly. “Not at all.”

“Oh yes.” He sighed, lifting up the sheet. “Lie beside me, Eve, so I may sleep.”

“Yes, Master,” I murmured. I shoved my tangled hair behind my ears and carefully laid
my head on the pillow beside his.

“Not like some infernal stone effigy,” he said, shifting to his side to reach for
me. “Here. Beside me, so I’ll know where you are.”

He pulled me close, drawing my bottom against his hips and his cock and keeping his
arm around my waist.

“Like this, Eve,” he said. “Like this.”

I couldn’t tell if he was being affectionate, territorial, or protective, though I
supposed it didn’t really matter. Whatever the reason, I liked lying this way with
him, liked feeling small and safe against his powerful body. I listened as his breathing
slowed and the tension eased from his body into sleep. Carefully, so that he wouldn’t
wake, I slipped my fingers into his so our hands were clasped.

And then, at last, I slept beside him.

SIX

This time when I woke, I knew exactly where I was: in Savage’s bed, with him still
soundly asleep beside me. From the path of the sun through the windows, I guessed
it must be the middle of the afternoon, and I smiled, thinking how wonderfully indolent
and sensual it was to still be in bed with a man at this hour of the day.

Carefully I sat upright to gaze down at him. We’d separated as we slept, and he now
lay curled on his side, away from me, with one hand flung out over the edge of the
bed and the other pillowed beneath his cheek. With his face relaxed, he looked much
younger, almost boyish, his features softened and his hair tousled.

He also seemed much larger, spread out across the bed and occupying most of it, and
I remembered with what ease that large and beautiful body had bent my own to its will,
and how pleasurable it had been. Simply admiring him like this was enough to launch
the first fresh flickers of arousal low in my belly, and I thought ruefully how my
body must be longing to make up for years without any passion.