Restraint (8 page)

* * * * *

Catherine had fucked herself five times with that damned finger of a dildo Thomas had given her. Dear God, why wouldn’t he come to her? Where had he been all day?

She’d spent the morning being bathed and fed by Lydia and then left alone all afternoon, unfettered,
unblindfolded
.

Every time she’d heard footsteps in the hall, her body had come alive, waiting, anticipating her next lesson. And every time, she’d resorted to relieving herself with the dildo. Even now, she was less than satisfied. Nothing would do but his touch, his kiss.

Her nipples hardened at just the thought of him kissing them, suckling them. That familiar aching between her legs returned full force at the thought of his exploring fingers, his tongue…

She dropped onto the bed and gazed around the room.
Dammit
! Where was he?

* * * * *

Thomas held his empty glass up to the waning rays of light that still filtered in through the leaded glass in his den. The sunset danced in the cut crystal as he twisted it back and forth, savoring the last bittersweet swallow of Irish whiskey.

Over the course of the day, he’d downed nearly an entire bottle and still was not feeling its effects. He set the glass down heavily on the side table, shifted in his leather chair and scratched his unshaven jaw. Why couldn’t he get her out of his mind?

And why, even at his age, did his shaft harden at the mere thought of her?

Emotions he had not felt in years churned inside him. Indecision. Guilt. Desire. Something else he dared not name. Something elusive. Something that made his insides feel as if he were stuffed full of butterflies.

Lydia appeared in the doorway and he cut his gaze toward her wordlessly. “She’s eaten her supper, my lord. Would you have me restrain her again?”

Thomas shook his head, regretting the action even as he did it. He wanted nothing more than to spend another night in Catherine’s bed, in her arms. He wanted nothing more than to sink into her sweetness, to rip the blindfold from her eyes and watch her face as ecstasy swept over and through her.

“No. Not tonight,” he said softly.

“Very well.” Lydia curtsied and turned.

“Lydia,” Thomas called.

“Yes, my lord?”

“What has she been doing?”

Lydia cleared her throat and Thomas watched as color infused her pale cheeks. “She’s been playing with that little toy you gave her, my lord. I walked in on her when I took in her supper.”

A smile curved his lips as he imagined her naked, both hands furiously thrusting the dildo in and out of her succulent little
cunny
. His cock swelled against the constraints of his trousers. Goddamn, he wanted to fuck her.

“Will there be anything else?”

He lifted the crystal shot glass and stared at it once more. “Yes. Have Addison saddle Storm. And then tell him he’s dismissed for the rest of the evening.”

* * * * *

Catherine stood blindfolded in her room, her heart rioting as she awaited Thomas. Finally, he was coming for her. What would they do? Would he kiss her—there—again? Would he slip his fingers inside her? Would he suckle her breasts?

Would he make love to her?

Her
cunny
clenched at the thought.

A little knock sounded on the door before it opened. A wide smile claimed Catherine’s lips. She could already smell his clean, spicy fragrance. He had recently bathed. She wrinkled her nose. There was something else—the faint hint of whiskey.

She held open her arms and at once he enveloped her in a hug. She could feel him against her, ensconcing her. With his broad shoulders and long legs, his body was so much bigger than hers. Her head barely came up to the breadth of his chest. She’d known he was tall but had never guessed he was a giant. She’d never stood toe to toe with him before.

Slipping her leg up his, she noticed he was wearing boots. Her hands roamed over his clothing and found soft doeskin riding breeches and a voluminous shirt. Had he been riding? He didn’t smell of horses.

“I thought you’d never come,” she said, her voice but a breath as she tilted her head back.

His lips found hers, hard and hungry, yet still supple and gentle. How could he control such contrasting sensations? She opened for his tongue, tasting the remnants of minty tooth powder mingled with the woody redolence of fine whiskey. His hands drifted over her shoulders, down her back, over the contours of her buttocks, around to brush the curls between her thighs, one hand coming up to possessively cup a breast. Catherine moaned into his mouth and pressed herself more fully into his hand.

All she could think about was fucking him.

Finally, he tore his mouth away from hers, his kisses brushing the blindfold and then her forehead. “I want to take you somewhere,” he said.

Her heart hammered. Where could he possibly take her?

His fingers entwined with hers and he tugged her hand. She hesitated. She could not leave this room. Not naked and blindfolded.

He seemed to sense her reticence. “It’s all right, Catherine. The servants have been dismissed.”

“But—”

“Come with me, love.”

She melted at his term of endearment and allowed him to guide her out of the bedroom. There was something almost sinful about walking out into the hall naked.

His arm slipped around her waist. “Be careful. We’re going down the stairs.”

Blindly, she groped for the banister but with Thomas’ arm around her, she felt perfectly safe. He told her each time to step down and let her know when they had reached the last step. Her bare foot touched cool marble. Were they in a foyer? She hesitated. “Are you certain all the servants are gone?”

“All except Lydia and she’s been instructed to change your linen and prepare a late snack for us.”

Catherine began to throb at the thought of Thomas feeding her little finger sandwiches as she lay naked on fresh, clean linen.

“Come on, darling. I assure you no one will so much as catch a glimpse of you,” he said with a little chuckle. And then, softer—much softer—he said, “I could never share the sight of you with anyone.”

What about Robert?
She wanted to ask. She wanted desperately to know. Damn this intolerable situation!

She heard the unmistakable squeaking of hinges. Were they going outside? She started to resist but he suddenly swept her off her feet and carried her. Catherine squealed and clutched his muscled biceps. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying you.”

She laughed. “Whatever for?”

“I didn’t want the gravel to hurt your pretty little feet.”

It was some time before he set her down. Instantly, she caught the scent of horses and hay. “Are we in a barn?”

“How perceptive of you.”

The ground was soft beneath her feet. Was she standing on wood shavings? She couldn’t tell but she liked the way it felt between her toes.

A horse snorted so close to her she jumped but Thomas seized her hand in his and brought it up to stroke a velvety muzzle. “This is Storm,” he said. “My favorite thoroughbred. He’s seventeen hands high.”

Catherine swallowed. She had the sinking suspicion Thomas was going to ask her to ride the giant horse. She heard the sound of leather creaking and the stomp of a large hoof and then suddenly, a big strong arm whisked her up and settled her in the saddle. She gasped.

“Do you want to ride astride?”

A hot blush flooded her cheeks at the thought of sitting naked astride a horse but the saddle was soft and cool beneath her buttocks and even as she debated, Thomas was guiding one of her legs over. Her aching nubbin pressed firmly against the leather. It was tortuous and she knew it would only get worse with every step the horse took. Her backside encountered Thomas’ groin and she could feel him, long and hard, straining against the cleft of her buttocks.

Strong arms surrounded her and he urged the horse into a canter. Muscled thighs pressed against hers and she could feel coarse horse hair beneath her calves. She leaned back against Thomas’ chest, aware of his heat through his shirt. And all the while, her clitoris ground against the soft leather saddle.

The night air was balmy—perfect for riding in the nude. Catherine laughed out loud. She had never dreamed she would ride a horse astride, much less naked!

“Can I trust you, Catherine?”

“You know you can.”

“You won’t look back?”

She shook her head.

Deft fingers loosened the blindfold and it fell around her neck. And all at once, the most brilliant sunset on which she had ever laid eyes stretched out before her, sinking behind the horizon of trees. Hues of pink and lavender reflected in a placid little lake. “Oh Thomas, it’s beautiful!”

Thomas tugged on the reins, slowing his mighty Storm to a gentle walk. He trailed the backs of his fingers down Catherine’s bare shoulder, down her arm, over her thigh. She murmured her approval and rested her head against his chest just under his chin. “You’re beautiful, Catherine.”

Silently, she covered the hand that lingered on her thigh and directed it toward the thatch of curls between her spread legs. “Touch me, Thomas.”

She was hot. So hot. And already wet. His fingers found the hard little apex and he began to stroke it, slowly, maddeningly. The muscles in her thighs tensed and her body writhed sensuously. Low, breathy moans emanated from her throat as her breathing quickened.

“Yes,” she said, her voice but a silken whisper that made his cock diamond hard.

He slanted his head down to kiss her ear through her wealth of hair, to brush his lips against the curve of her shoulder. “Yes,” he echoed, rubbing more insistently now, feeling her harden beneath his fingertips. “Come for me, Catherine.”

Her breath caught in her throat and her body stiffened as she convulsed on his hand. And when it was over, she languidly took his hand in hers and brought it to her lips, taking each finger into her mouth to lick off her own cream. Thomas nearly erupted in his breeches as he felt her hot tongue flick over his fingers and his palm.

“Let me take you in my mouth,” she said and it was nearly his undoing.

Hastily, he slipped the blindfold back into place, cursing himself for doing so, and then he hefted Catherine to the ground, sliding down with her. Her hands were already groping and wrestling with the fly of his doeskin breeches as she sank to her knees in the grass.

Thomas leaned back against the solid wall of horseflesh behind him and gazed down at beautiful Catherine as she opened her mouth wide and engulfed his turgid cock. His fingers threaded into her hair and guided her gently, although she needed no help from him. She expertly licked and sucked and teased and Thomas fought to keep from coming. He wanted this to last forever.

Catherine’s fingers encircled his phallus and then her mouth and hand were moving in rhythmic unison. Her tongue flickered around the head, lapping him, making his knees go weak. He nearly stumbled against Storm and clutched the reins to keep from falling. “Oh God, Catherine,” he muttered. “God.”

And then she was taking as much of him as she could in her mouth. She was sinfully beautiful, bathed in the purple glow of twilight, sucking him, fucking him with her luscious mouth. He could control it no longer. “I’m going to come,” he warned her but she continued to suck even more savagely and then he was gushing, holding her head there with trembling hands as she drained him.

He cried out into the night, cried her name. Emotions beyond his power erupted to the surface until he wasn’t coherent and he was uttering words of love to her, sinking to the ground and enveloping her in his arms.

He pulled her against him, into his lap and rocked her, kissing her hair, his body still racked with spasm after spasm of pure bliss.

* * * * *

Catherine sat on a soft plaid wool blanket with her back against Thomas’ chest. He leaned against a tree, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her stomach. He had removed the blindfold at her promise not to look at him but she looked her fill at what she could see. His fingers were long and nicely manicured. His hands were tanned, the palms slightly calloused as if he did outdoor work. Catherine liked that. Robert was white and pasty and she doubted he’d ever lifted a finger to do anything other than direct a servant this way or that.

One doeskin-clad knee was raised, the breeches straining against thick, muscled thighs. Damn, why wouldn’t he let her see his face? But she’d promised…

She stared across the shimmering lake as the last vestige of daylight sank behind the horizon. She felt free. Utterly and wonderfully free—and in love—for the first time in her life.

Her heart darkened when she remembered that this would likely be the last time she felt this way. A sense of doom swept over her and she gave in to the flood of tears that filled her eyes. A sob choked in her throat.

“Catherine?”

She covered her face with her hands and wept.

“Catherine?” His hands found her shoulders. “What’s the matter?”

And then she fled into his embrace, burying her head against his chest. “I don’t want to marry Robert!”

Those big calloused hands stroked her hair. “Then don’t.”

She stilled. And everything was quiet. There was only the sound of crickets and the toads in the lake. Was he making an offer? Dear God, she prayed he was.

“I’m sure you could find another suitable fiancé.”

His words stung. He didn’t want her? Her throat constricted. “No,” she whispered into his shirt. “My father is impoverished. He is adamant that I marry a duke. And Robert has agreed to pay off his debts. The contracts have already been drawn up.”

Thomas held her, debating whether to tell her he’d be more than willing to sell his estate and take on her father’s debts. Hell, he’d pay his last farthing and live in poverty if it meant living with Catherine.

She dried her tears and nestled her back against him once more. “I have to marry Robert. I have no choice.”

Yes you do
, he thought.
You could marry me.
But grimly, he reminded himself that he was too old for her. She deserved a lofty title and Wallingford’s wealth. Wallingford would, hopefully, tire of her when he realized she would not respond to his eccentric sexual tastes and take a mistress. And until then, Thomas could only teach her how to make the best of an intolerable situation. He would have to teach her to derive pleasure from pain.