The Return of Lady Honoria (2 page)

Honoria swept her lashes down over her shock.
“I don't know what you mean, monsieur.”

“Don't play coy, mademoiselle. Servants talk
and I pay for information. I'm interested in a female version of
myself, as you can well imagine.”

He reached out, cupped her breast through the
thin fabric of her gown and slid his hand roughly down her belly.
“Naughty,” he said, locking his hand over her still swollen mound.
He squeezed just enough to make her wince and smiled when her
thighs sprang open.

“I hurt you,” he breathed. He leaned in
closer and bent his lips to her ear. “But I have a treat to make up
for it.”

Honoria shivered, lips parting. “Do you,
Monsieur le duc?”

“Call me, Michel—mon cher, Honoria.”

Putting a hand in the small of her back, he
steered her down a discreet staircase into the gardens. Despite her
aunt's exceedingly proper reputation, the walkways were ablaze with
fairy lights and the whisper of conversation.

“Are we going far?” she asked.

Michel laughed softly and guided her down an
unlit path to a little grotto tucked against the garden wall. He
stopped her before she could step into the open and placed his
fingers over her lips.

“Come,” he whispered, gesturing her to an
alcove.

The bulge in his breeches was incredibly
seductive. Despite her earlier tryst with Danton, Honoria drifted
in closer. Michel sat on a small brick platform and pulled her down
over him, lifting her skirts up out of the way.

“Monsieur!”

He spun her around so her back rested against
him, and pulled her bodice down under her breasts. “Michel. Please.
I insist.”

“We are not talking of the same thing at
all,” said Honoria, tugging her bodice back into place.

“Have you already indulged, mademoiselle?”
His laugh tickled the hair at her nape. “Your breasts are swollen.”
He pinched down tightly, rolling her cloth-covered nipples into
aching nubs.

Honoria groaned, shoulders pushed back
against his chest. The way his arms were crossed over her belly
made it impossible to break free and he used his position
ruthlessly, working her breasts until she thrashed, head beating
against his shoulder. She came back to herself to find his palms
cupped under her buttocks, two fingers from each hand buried in her
throbbing depths.

“No more!” she cried. “Please, Michel.”

“You’re so hot, and well-used.” He lifted her
up and pulled her swollen folds out around his ravaging cock. “Open
for me, Honoria.”

Every inch he forced into her burned. “Relax,
mon ange. You will enjoy my attentions soon enough.”

“Never!” Honoria lurched forward, kicking to
escape him. “Release me!”

His fingers dug into her neatly pinned hair.
“
Do not defy me
—look at what I brought you to see.” He
thrust up into her and swept an arm out, parting the heavy
boughs.

Slightly more than ten feet from her, two men
crouched over Clarissa Burkett. It was obvious Clarissa was
enjoying herself—squealing and moaning with a man between her
thighs and another in her mouth. Honoria had never seen an
acquaintance naked, and she was fascinated by Clarissa's overblown
curves. She was so pink and white, so plush with her voluminous
curves and large, bouncing breasts.

Clarissa’s throat worked as the man using her
pushed his cock in as far as it would go and ground the base of his
cock into her face. He wasn’t wearing anything from the waist down,
and his pasty white flanks flexed under Clarissa’s frenzied
attentions.

Balls slapped her chin loudly. “Open that
mouth wide and suck it!”

Clarissa’s legs flailed, heels drumming on
the low-slung table as he abruptly pulled his cock from her lips,
rolled her over and plowed into her ass with a short, violent
thrust.

“Be gentle!” she shrieked.

“Be gentle? Everyone knows you like it
rough.” Clarissa’s original lover still pumped between her thighs,
his reddened length jerking up into her exposed cleft.

“She has two cocks in her,” whispered
Honoria, totally enthralled.

Michel’s already substantial girth grew wider
still. “She’s a hot little baggage,” he said, pinching Honoria’s
nipples out as far as they would go.

Honoria bit back a cry, thighs clenching down
as he rode her up and down, legs flapping and bouncing. Her toes
touched the ground and lifted off again.

“You enjoy her pain,” he whispered, licking
at the taut curve of her throat.

“Yes.” The look on Clarissa’s face was more
intoxicating than wine.
She
wanted to be the one making
Clarissa squirm.

“It’s too much,” Clarissa cried. Both of the
men slid forward at the same time and her eyes rolled up, mouth
hanging open as she panted furiously. “It’s too much!”

Distracted by her cries, Honoria was caught
off guard when the man wedged in Clarissa’s obscenely stretched
rectum let out a hoarse cry and clenched his fingers in the soft
flesh of her hips. His mouth hung open as he grunted and thrust,
rubbing not just his cock, but his balls and thighs into her. He
pulled out slowly leaving her cum-smeared hole hanging open like a
well-used sock.

The other man pumped and groaned, but nothing
seemed to work. “She’s too loose!” he cried.

The first man reached up and grabbed a candle
from the ledge. Wax spattered on Clarissa and made her jump, legs
kicking.

“Do it again! Her cunny tightened up.”

The first man pushed the taper into Clarissa,
working it in and out hard enough to make her squeal. The thick,
wet slurp made Honoria lean in closer. A candle! Who would have
thought to use one, and down there of all places? She wondered how
it felt to have an inanimate object ravish her, and wished she
could ask Clarissa; although how one would frame the question she
didn’t know.

Clarissa made strangled grunts, the rapid
kick of her legs slowing until she was undulating in mindless
pleasure.

Honoria drove herself down on Michel’s cock,
licking her suddenly dry lips. Clarissa cried out. The first man
had bundled his cock with the heavy wax taper and was using it to
increase his already considerable girth. He’d thrown one of
Clarissa’s legs back for easy access and had managed to get the
head of his cock into her, but the candle was giving her
difficulty. As Honoria watched, she pulled her buttocks wide, using
her thumbs to ease the candle inside her.

“Demn, she's tight.”

“I can feel you,” the other man said thickly,
“rubbing against me.”

There was wax on everything, but no one
seemed to notice. The two men kissed over Clarissa’s head as she
shook and mewled, breasts drawn up small and tight.

They came at the same time, tongues working
as they ignored the woman between them. The first man pulled out
and stood, lowering a hand to his partner. Within seconds, they
were gone leaving Clarissa huddled on the floor of the grotto,
moaning.

Honoria tried to focus on something other
than Michel’s cock. Despite her excitement, it was getting harder
to separate pleasure from the pain. “Does she require
assistance?”

Michel's lips brushed the hair over her ear.
“She liked it, mon petit ange. And she is known to like it.
Watch—”

As if by Michel's magical ordering, a woman
walked from the edge of the grotto into the now poorly-lit room and
pulled Clarissa to her knees. A man came up behind Clarissa, kicked
her knees apart and shoved his cock in her without pausing to
inquire as to her willingness and within minutes they were all
writhing on the ground, limbs and mouths tangled until Honoria
couldn’t tell who was doing what to whom.

“If you went up to her now,” continued
Michel, “you could have her anyway you wanted, so could every man
in that ballroom.”

Honoria squirmed. Michel’s cock felt like a
club inside her, battering at her sensitive flesh. One hand clamped
over her still swollen mound and held her in place while his
fingers jabbed at her clit.

“Oh!” she cried. “Oh! Please, Michel—”

Michel kissed the nape of her neck. “It
hurts, yes?”

“Yes!” she moaned, only able to sort pain
from the incredible wash of sensations flooding her senses.

“Then I will be quick about it.” Pushing her
down on her knees, he knelt and crouched over her.

Honoria had only been on her knees once. From
this angle it felt like he was banging the back of her throat. He
slammed into her so quickly; she barely had time to brace herself.
Tension coiled at the base of her spine, and made her cry out.

Michel abruptly stopped and got to his
feet.

Honoria rolled over panting, eyes wild. “You
can’t leave me like this!”

Michel pulled a small linen square from his
coat and wiped his still erect cock. “There are any number of men
roaming the night. If you would like a cock, I’m sure someone will
oblige you. If you want me to fill that hungry little hole, I will
send a carriage three days hence.” He bowed politely and pushed
himself into his trousers. “Until then, mademoiselle.”

Chapter Two

If there was a hell, Honoria wished Danton
and Michel joy of it. Three days without a word from her on and off
again lover, and a bad case of the blue devils from Michel’s abrupt
finish. By the time Michel’s wildly expensive, but very discrete
carriage rolled to a quiet stop just outside the servant's entrance
she was so highly strung she couldn’t stand still. Daisy unlatched
the gate for Honoria and grabbed at her hand when she would have
passed.

“Be careful, m'lady! His servants call him
the Devil!”

“Do they really?” A delicious shiver swept
Honoria.

Michel’s eyes were certainly devilish, and
the way he'd awakened all her baser instincts put him—if not in
league with Satan, then certainly on the road to perdition.

“If you're not back by morning,” Daisy
continued vehemently, clinging to Honoria’s hand, “I'll send
Robbie.”

Sleeping with her maid had created a tiger.
Daisy’s already strong concern for Honoria had turned into a
protective streak. Honoria checked to make sure no faces were
staring out of the windows and risked a quick hug. “Thank you,
Daisy.”

Daisy hugged her back. “Be careful,
m’lady!”

The carriage door swung open and a short
little man who barely came up to Honoria's hips jumped out. Dressed
in heavy, old-fashioned livery and a neatly powdered wig, he gave
her a faintly cynical look and jerked out an awkward bow.

Honoria accepted his help and settled into
the plush interior. The seating was beautifully upholstered in soft
red velvet, and everything that wasn't carved and gilded was inlaid
with ivory or mother of pearl. Honoria swept a hand over the
luxurious seat cushion and glanced out the window into the damp
London night.

She would have preferred Danton. Everything
was a hundred times better with Danton smirking up his shirt
sleeve. Not that she was difficult to find if he’d had the
slightest inclination to look for her. Drat the man and his
secrets. They didn’t know each other well enough for confidences,
although that was his fault. She’d followed him to London. She
wanted to talk to him. Her hand clenched abruptly and just as
abruptly opened to pinch the skin between her eyes.
She’d
followed him to London?
It was a wonder he hadn’t run screaming
at the sight of her. Was she that desperate?

The little man got into the carriage,
clambered up on the opposite seat and rapped on the panel behind
him. “We shall be at Little Oakham within the hour, my lady.”

Honoria forced herself to smile.

The strange little man leaned back in his
seat and watched her. “You're very pretty,” he said finally.

“Thank you,” said Honoria.

Light from the carriage lanterns made his
pale brown eyes stand out. “My lord told me to make sure you
enjoyed yourself.”

The man lurched across the carriage, lifted
her gown and burrowed his face between her legs. The first touch of
his hot, wet tongue on her flesh made her jump. He didn't try to
touch her in any other way, just plunged his tongue between her
nether lips and ran it down her cleft, licking into her hole. His
face pushed against her, teeth working her hidden nub while his
mouth tried to suck her dry.

Honoria’s angst vanished. She didn't
recognize the sounds she was making, grunting and thrusting her
hips. She pulled her skirts up and shuddered at the sight of his
forehead between her thighs. No one had ever touched her with their
tongue. The sensation was strange and brazenly decadent. Was this
how a man felt when he was suckled?

“What are you doing?” she gasped, smacking
her fan down across his shoulders.

The little man sat back on his heels, wiped
his mouth on his sleeve and regarded her gravely. “If you relax,
it'll feel better.”

He waited for a second, studying her
response, Honoria realized. “Do you get anything out of this?” she
questioned, wondering if it would look odd to push her skirt down
while they were talking. “Surely you need…release?”

He shook his head and gestured down at his
crotch. “I am fine, m'lady. But thank you for asking.”

Honoria glanced down between her knees to the
non-existent bulge in his trousers. “You aren't attracted to
me?”

He looked horrified. “I'm a servant, m’lady.
It's my job to serve.”

Honoria didn't want to tell him about her
servants, and instead sat up. “Come over here,” she commanded.

He crawled up on the bench beside her and sat
warily. “M’lady?”

“Take off your breeches.”

“M'lady?” he almost squeaked, holding both
hands over a rapidly growing bulge.

Perhaps he needed direction? Honoria gave him
a very firm look. “Take off your breeches and show yourself to me,”
she said.