Lord Savage (30 page)

He grunted and swore, and I felt the straining muscles in his thighs beneath my palms.
If my mouth hadn’t been so full, I would have smiled. I’d intended to please him,
but the sense of power I felt from giving him pleasure also aroused me to a shocking
degree, and I began to rock my hips to make the golden ben wah balls caress me from
within.

Breathing hard, he pulled back, slipping heavily from my mouth.

“You’re a wicked creature,” he said hoarsely, his approval undeniable.

I grinned. “Yes, your highness,” I said. “I am.”

I leaned forward to grasp the base of his cock, steadying it so that I could lick
and flick my tongue across the weeping little eye. Then I flattened my tongue and
drew it slowly along the underside in long, teasing strokes. At the same time, I reached
down to cup his ballocks in my fingers and stroked them lightly, the way I knew he
liked.

“Take me back into your mouth, Eve,” he said, tension making his voice harsh. “Suck
me.”

I took him deeper, drawing him in with my lips and tongue, and sucked him as he’d
ordered. He groaned, and shoved his fingers into my hair to hold my head steady as
he thrust into my mouth, once, twice, three times.

Abruptly he jerked out, the wet, purpled head of his cock bobbing before my face.

“Enough,” he said. “I want to spend in your hot little cunt.”

He grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me onto his lap, spreading my thighs so
that I’d no choice but to straddle his cock.

“Wait,” I said breathlessly, kicking off my heeled slippers. “The ben wah—”

“I haven’t forgotten.” He reached between my legs and hooked his finger into the chain
and tugged. One by one, the gold balls—glistening with my pearly essence—slipped from
my channel, making me gasp at the sudden, aching emptiness.

But not for long.

“Put me in, Eve,” he ordered with urgency, holding his cock steady by the base for
me. “Fuck, do it
now
.”

Bracing my hand on his shoulder, I slowly lowered myself onto his cock. I loved that
first moment when he entered me, how he could fill me so completely, and when he drove
in hard to my depths, I couldn’t keep back my cry of satisfaction, of delight at this
utter repletion.

“Ride me, Eve,” he demanded. “Fuck me hard.”

I didn’t need to be told. With my knees on either side of his hips, balanced on the
chair’s cushion, I raised myself nearly off his shaft, only to let my weight carry
me forcefully back down. His fingers sank into my hips to guide my rhythm as I clung
to his shoulders.

I caught a glimpse of how we were reflected over and over again in the mirrors, my
back arched and my breasts bouncing as I rode him, his handsome face contorted and
his fingers digging deeply into my white hips and bottom as he bucked beneath me.
It was as if we’d become the amorous couple in the engravings, connected over time
by sex.

After the long torment of the ben wah balls, I spent for the first time almost at
once, my quim clenching in delicious spasms around him as I climaxed.

“I’m not done,” he said as I sank against his chest. “Neither are you.”

He continued to thrust into me, and I felt the first tremors of another orgasm. I
began moving again, determined to match him this second time. He kissed me hard, his
mouth devouring mine, and squeezed my nipples with each thrust. I clung to him again
as the sensations built, the goal within reach now for him as well. I felt flushed
and feverish, my skin burning and my heartbeat thumping, and it still wasn’t enough.

“I—I can’t, Savage,” I stammered, writhing against his chest. With each thrust he
seemed to grow thicker and harder, stretching me further. “It’s too much.”

“Not yet it isn’t,” he growled. “I want you with me to the end.”

He slipped his fingers down to where we were joined and my quim’s lips were spread
around his cock, and lightly pressed against my pearl. Now each time I rose along
his cock, I felt the double pleasure in my core, almost unbearable as I trembled around
him. I was so sensitive, so close, that it was like a spark to tinder, and I thrashed
and cried with the intensity of it, yet still somehow held back, waiting for him.

Panting, I watched him, watched the wild look in his face grow as he pounded into
me, watched him give in to the need with an animal intensity, watched his eyes lose
focus as he raced toward his release.

And when at last it claimed him, he came with a mindless fury and a guttural roar,
driving his cock and his seed into me with such primal force that I plunged into the
depths with him. Through it all he watched me, never looking away from my face, as
if at that moment he could see into my soul. I was swept along on the wave of my climax,
forgetting everything else, and as it faded I shuddered and clung to him with tears
in my eyes, as if my very life depended upon it, and him.

In that moment, perhaps it did.

I’d never felt so vulnerable, at once both lost and found, as I now did sprawled half
naked across Savage in this foolish throne-chair. His strength was my solace, my comfort,
and there was nothing better than hearing the beating of his heart beneath my ear.

What was it that Simpson had told me that first night? Innocents didn’t have pasts
or futures. They could live only in the present. Could any words be more true?

He held me tight, his arms wrapped around me and his unshaved cheek pressed close
to my temple.

“Eve, Eve,” he whispered hoarsely against my hair. “Don’t ever leave me.”

I went very still. He’d said that to me before, but it had only been part of the Game.
But this—this felt different.

Slowly I raised my head from his chest, twisting so that I faced him. “What did you
say, Savage?”

His expression was guarded and unsure, as if he feared he’d already said too much.
Instead of replying, he turned my face up to his and kissed me, as if that would be
answer enough. It was, yet it wasn’t, and with a small sigh that was lost between
our mouths, I closed my eyes and kissed him in return.

“Savage?” Lady Carleigh’s voice was unmistakable, calling from the larger gallery.
“Mrs. Hart? Are you in here, my dears?”

TWELVE

At once Savage broke away from the kiss, his arm still protectively around me. “Why
the devil is that damned woman here now?”

But I wasn’t going to wait to find out. Hurriedly I slipped free of Savage and the
chair, and retrieved the gold ben wah balls from the floor, tucking them into the
pocket of my dressing gown. I swiftly pulled up my costume once again over my breasts
and retied my dressing gown for good measure.

Yet, one glance in the surrounding mirrors showed me how futile such small gestures
were. My face remained flushed, my lips were bruised-looking from the fervor of Savage’s
kisses, and my hair was tangled and matted from our combined sweat. My feet were bare,
and I’d no idea where my slippers had landed when I kicked them off. No one—especially
not Lady Carleigh—would doubt for a moment what I’d been doing with Savage.

Nor would it help that he seemed in no particular hurry to dress himself, either.
He’d scarcely closed the front of his pajamas when Lady Carleigh appeared in the arched
doorway, a tall footman at her side.

The viscountess was also wearing a peignoir, thick with ruffling layers of French
lace. Her apricot-colored hair was as elaborately dressed as if for tea with a duchess
in Portman Square, and diamonds circled her wrists and throat.

In comparison, I was acutely aware of how unkempt—how
ravished
—I must look. After Simpson had been so inquisitive in her last visit to Savage’s
rooms, I had not asked the lady’s maid to return. I hadn’t worried about how my hair
was arranged and neither had Savage; we’d been too lost in each other to care.

But with Lady Carleigh now before me as a reminder of what was proper and expected
for ladies of our station, I realized that I must look like an unkempt slattern. Even
now I could feel Savage’s seed sticky and trickling down the insides of my thighs,
and I pressed my legs together to keep from having it drip shamefully onto my bare
feet.

Fortunately, the viscountess chose to take no notice.

“Here you two are!” she said brightly, not at all embarrassed at disturbing two of
her guests. “I’d heard from the servants that you were walking upstairs, and when
I remembered how very much you like the gallery, Savage, I knew—I
knew
—I’d find you here.”

“So you have,” said Savage. He rose slowly from the chair, tightening the sash on
his robe, and came to stand beside me with his arm around my shoulders. “Though to
be honest, Laura, I rather wish you hadn’t bothered.”

“Oh, pish, Savage,” Lady Carleigh said, talking too fast. “Don’t be such a boor. Tell
me, Mrs. Hart. Are you enjoying my husband’s collection of fine art? Has Savage shown
you the choicest pieces in the lot? Have you—”

“Enough of this nonsense, Laura,” Savage interrupted wearily. “As interfering as you
can be, it’s not your general habit to come badger your guests like this. What is
it that you really want? Why are you here?”

“Why? Why?” Lady Carleigh clasped her hands before her as she gave an indignant little
toss of her head. “I shall tell you why, my lord Savage. I sought you both out because
I am not accustomed to having my missives ignored, especially when, as your hostess,
I have only your own welfare in mind. Perhaps it is because you are American, Mrs.
Hart, and do not understand the finer points of social etiquette, but I can assure
you that it is barbarously ill bred of you to leave my notes unanswered as you have.”

I stared at the woman, taken aback. None of what the viscountess was saying made any
sense.

“I am not ill bred, my lady,” I replied defensively, “nor does being American have
anything to do with my manners. I can hardly reply to notes that I have never received.”

Lady Carleigh gasped. “Are you doubting my word, Mrs. Hart? Are you questioning my
veracity, when all I wished was to inquire—”

“Why don’t you simply ask her now?” Savage suggested.

“Yes, please, do,” I said. “What were your inquiries, my lady?”

Lady Carleigh blinked with embarrassment. “I would rather ask you in private, Mrs.
Hart.”

I felt my cheeks grow hot, too. Clearly, whatever the viscountess was asking had to
do with Savage. Now I also realized something else: the tall footman that she’d brought
as an escort was one of the ones who’d intervened when Savage had attacked Mr. Henery.
Why had Lady Carleigh felt it necessary to bring such an escort here?

Savage must have sensed my discomfort, though not the reason for it. He took his arm
from around my shoulder with a small bow. “If you wish me to leave you alone, then
I’ll—”

“No!” I exclaimed, more sharply than I’d intended. I took his arm to draw him back.
“That is, no, please, do not leave. Whatever her ladyship wishes to say may be said
before you.”

Lady Carleigh frowned. “Are you certain of that, Mrs. Hart?”

“Of course,” I said, as Savage once again slipped his arm across my shoulder. I was
glad that he did, linking my fingers into his as well. We were united and together,
and I saw us that way, reflected over and over in the mirrors around us. “Please continue.”

The viscountess’s discomfort was obvious, and she hesitated just long enough to show
that she’d thought better of her original question, whatever it might be.

“Very well,” she said. “Will you and Lord Savage be joining us for the final dinner
tomorrow evening?”

“Indeed we shall,” Savage answered for us both. “Why shouldn’t we?”

“Because you and Mrs. Hart have kept entirely to yourselves this week, Savage,” the
viscountess answered curtly. “Because this—this withdrawal is not your usual custom,
nor is it how our little game is ordinarily played. Because we began to wonder if
such an absence was agreeable to both of you, or the forceful design of only one.”

Savage drew in his breath so sharply that I felt it. “Are you asking whether I’ve
made Mrs. Hart into some sort of
prisoner,
Laura?”

“I’m not asking you, Savage, but Mrs. Hart,” she said, pointedly looking at me. “You
haven’t played with the rest of us at all, ma’am. Has that been through your choice,
or Lord Savage’s?”

“Recall that by your rules I am her master,” Savage said, his voice tense, “and—”

“I asked Mrs. Hart,” Lady Carleigh said, “not you, Savage, and even if I—”

“Forgive me, Lady Carleigh, please,” I interrupted, holding my hand up for silence
and peace as well. “There’s no need for quarreling, and no reason for it. I have not
been forced, or coerced, or compelled to do anything—
anything
—that I did not wish to do. Not once.”

The viscountess studied me, her lips pressed tightly together with skepticism. It
was clear that she did not believe me, and equally clear that nothing else I might
say would change her mind.

And the worst part was not that Lady Carleigh, or any of the others, doubted my word.
No, the worst was that they dared question Savage.

I tightened my fingers around his, offering comfort and reassurance as much as seeking
it for myself.

“Are you satisfied, Laura?” he asked evenly, an evenness that did not fool me at all.
“Did Mrs. Hart give you the answer you sought? Or would you rather you’d had the chance
to damn me again?”

Lady Carleigh gasped and fluttered her hands in front of her in ladylike distress.

“Never, Savage, never,” she said quickly. “You know that Carleigh and I regard you
as one of our oldest and dearest friends. We’d thought you were finally returning
to your old self and at last recovering from Marianne’s death, but when we saw—”

“This conversation is finished, Laura,” he said, biting off each word. His hand squeezed
mine. “Come with me, Eve, if you please. There is no need for us to remain here.”