Wicked Games (24 page)

Milord Beast looked down at me. His eyes glowed green with masculine pleasure at my submission as he fed me a piece of crusty bread dripping with butter. When a drop slid down one of his long fingers, I automatically licked it away. And shivered at the hot male taste of him.

My eyes darted to his. He smiled slowly, showing white teeth. I stared up at him helplessly. My nipples drew tight and a delicious memory teased its way through my mind; milord's come splashing on my lips.

Next he presented me with a goblet of wine, upending it as I drank thirstily, feeling the tart burn slide down my throat.

So he fed me, and I ate from his hands, until he pushed back the plate and goblet with sudden impatience. “Time for dessert.” His hands caught in the fabric of my gown.

Claws extended, he shredded it with one easy pull, leaving me naked. Before I could protest, his big hands closed over my waist, and I found myself on my back on the table.

“Milord!” I squeaked as his ruthless strength made short work of the last clinging tatters of my gown.

He ignored my objection, stepping back from the table to stare. His lips parted in a widening smile, and for the first time I noticed his fangs. They were as white and sharp as a wolf's. My heart leaped in fear, yet perversely, I could feel cream trickling between my thighs.

The Beast walked around the table and I watched as he circled, eyes fixed on me.

His gaze flicked to a small earthen jar. He reached over and picked it up, then dipped a spoon in it. When he held the silver utensil up to the light, a sluggish golden stream fell back into the jar.

Leaning over me again, he held the spoon above my breasts. As I watched, a stream of honey poured down to roll over my nipples and pearl on the full curves of my flesh.

Slowly, slowly, milord dribbled a stream of honey across my breasts, down the curve of my ribs, lingered to make a pool in my navel before painting my lower abdomen with shimmering gold. Then, finally, he poured the honey directly into the soft fur covering my mound.

At last he stood back and gave me that wicked, fanged grin again. “I have a sweet tooth.”

I tensed as milord bent over me, nervously aware of those fangs. A long red tongue flicked between his lips and swiped across my nipple, which instantly began to strain upward in yearning. Delicately he rewarded it, closing his mouth over the pink bud and sucking it with such delicious skill, I whimpered.

Finally he released the nubbin, only to begin slowly licking the honey still clinging to my breasts, lapping them with long strokes, pausing here and there to suck or nibble gently. I tensed each time, but those fangs never did more than press softly against my skin.

When he started working his way down the length of my torso, the ticklish sensation made me writhe. He paused to tongue the honey from my navel, sucked deeply at it, then continued down my abdomen.

A different tension invaded me. I'd heard whispers from other noblewomen, tales of wickedly skilled lovers, but the earl had hardly been of that stripe.

So when Beast moved between my legs at last and lowered his head, I shivered in equal parts of embarrassment and curiosity. His first long lick made me jump as he tasted my curls, then tugged them gently between his lips. At length he deepened the movement, tongue swirling around my pearl, flicking at my lips.

Never had I felt such a rush of pleasure. Yet the sensation only intensified when he burrowed his seeking tongue even deeper into my sex, stabbing hard into my core. I gasped.

He lifted his head. “You're wet,” he purred. “Evidently you enjoy the attentions of a monster more than you'd like to admit.”

I writhed and moaned at his words. It was true, all true, and my shame scalded me. But then his tongue was at work again, licking my pearl, sucking it, and the pleasure drove every other thought from my head.

I looked down. He stared back at me from between my thighs. My sex hid half his face, but his eyes burned with triumph and hunger. Helpless, I threw back my head and cried out as lust blasted through me.

With a low, impatient growl of need, Milord Beast stood in a rush and began to unbutton his britches. At last his male organ had escaped to jut out at me. I swallowed, feeling my eyes widen as he bent closer to me, aiming himself.

In the back of my mind, I felt a flicker of disappointment; I'd been so close to climax, and now I knew he'd be through with me in a thrust or two.

But then he began to push into my body, his size stretching me in a way I'd never known. Even when I thought he'd reached his limit, he kept coming, and I whimpered in surprise.

“So big,” I moaned, “so hot.”

He grinned. “So
tight
.”

Finally he stopped, all the way in me at last. I licked my lips, staring at him as he stood between my thighs. He caught my calves and lifted them to rest on his shoulders, and then he began to thrust. I twisted.

I was no virgin, of course, but the earl had been nothing like this. Such size . . . It was almost painful, being filled so deeply. I wished he would give me his mouth again.

But then, as I lay there, feeling the slow, careful stoking of his great rod, a strange pleasure stole over me until my hips rocked. He'd already gone on much longer than my husband ever had, and the pleasure to be found in his thrusts was a delightful surprise. My breathing roughened and I gasped as he circled his hips.

As if I'd given him a signal, he picked up his pace until he was lunging hard against me, grinding his hips into the cradle of mine, tormenting my pearl into a blaze. He leaned closer as he rode me until his face was inches from my breasts. Hungrily he licked at me, eyes locked on mine. Unable to stop myself, I threaded my hands into his mane, twisting them as his relentless thrusts seared through me.

“Give to me,” he rumbled. “Come. Come with a beast's prick pounding in your cunt. Now.”

And he rammed as deeply as he could go.

I screamed as the waves of my orgasm pulsed through me. He roared.

•   •   •

P
utting my back into it, I hauled the bucket out of the well. The castle yard was abnormally quiet around me—but then, the entire castle was abnormally quiet for a structure of such size. The only servants in residence were a forbidding cook and a couple of timid maids, plus a very brawny footman who gave me looks I didn't care for.

Bucket in hand, I straightened to look out the portcullis. Be- yond it I could see the long, rocky slope the castle sat upon, rolling down to the shadowed tree line of the forest. Suddenly I yearned for the still darkness out there with an intensity that made me grit my teeth.

But I knew better. There'd be no freedom for me. I'd take my bucket inside the castle and later I'd present myself to milord in his bedchamber where, once again, he'd shoot me to the heights of pleasure and the depths of shame. With my willing—nay, eager—participation.

I was no better than a slut.

I thought of the shame my father would feel if he knew, thought of the stain I brought to our family with my wantonness. I'd been raised better. Yet, when the Beast touched me, I forgot family and pride and God in the headlong rush to pleasure.

I grew aware that I still stared longingly at the forest. In that moment, a bitter need surged within me to rush out into the trees, to run from my own hunger and milord's too-skillful hands.

If I stayed here, I'd become his slave in spirit as well as fact.

I started running for the portcullis before I even knew what I was about, my slippers quick on the stones, the homespun skirts of my working clothes fluttering about me.

I knew I risked his rage, but I had no choice. I could not remain to become a whore to a beast, no matter now deliciously seductive.

•   •   •

H
uddled against the rough bark of the tree at my back, I peered out into the darkness and suspected I'd made a huge mistake.

In my haste and impulsiveness, I'd neglected to bring food or money for the journey, and my thin slippers were hardly the shoes to wear on a hike. But it was too late to turn back now.

I sighed and tried not to think about what milord was likely doing at this moment. He probably knew I was gone, just as I knew he would not be pleased.

Crunch.

I lifted my head. Something moved through the brush. Something large. I fixed my eyes on the shaft of moonlight cutting through the trees and stared, my heart pounding. It was Milord Beast; I knew it. And he would be so angry with me.

Why did I find that thought intriguing?

A shadowed man-shape stepped out of the brush, moved forward into the light. Small, piggy eyes stared at me out of a whiskered face, and a grin gaped, revealing rotten teeth. “Well, lads,” he said, “what 'ave we 'ere?”

As I stared at him in growing terror, three others stepped out of the darkness. All were dressed in mismatched rags, and all were dirty, with something vile in the eyes. It occurred to me that Cedric's story about my being killed by highwaymen might turn out to be more prophecy than lie.

I scarcely had time to scream before they were upon me. My world became a muddle of horror; hard hands, breath stinking of ale and onions, rough fingers digging painfully into my breasts, my thighs, my wrists.

Shoved flat on the ground, black shadows over me, hurting me, a hand clamped over my mouth to stifle my hysterical screams. Cold air on my lower body, my skirt around my waist, a hardness poking me between my thighs. I tried to scream but couldn't, couldn't even breathe . . .

And then suddenly there
were
screams, hoarse with terror, cut off sharply. Screams not my own.

The shadows around me surged and rolled. Yet I was left huddled alone in the chill leaves, forgotten and quivering as the air filled with a horrible snarling.

Wolves
, I thought. I knew I should run, but in my terror, I couldn't move.

Finally I managed to drag myself to my feet. My attackers had vanished. I whimpered in relief and gagged at the thick, fetid stink in the air. I wondered what on earth it was—until I saw the black human shapes on the ground.

The brassy smell choking me was blood.

One of the shadows stirred and rose to glide toward me. I took a hasty step back, a scream clawing for my throat.

Milord Beast stepped into the moonlight.

A wave of relief broke over me and I felt a helpless grin spread across my face. I took a half step toward him, holding out my arms in welcome. “Milord!”

His lips peeled back from his teeth. “I don't know why you're so relieved,” he snarled. “Before the night is over, you may find yourself longing for the company of these bastards.”

•   •   •

H
e'd brought chains.

“Apparently,” milord growled as he snapped the slave collar around my throat, “I made a serious mistake in taking this off you to begin with. Without it, you don't seem to appreciate your posi- tion.”

I had never seen his anger before that moment, and it terrified me. A growl rumbled continuously in his throat, and his movements were short and rough. I was acutely aware of how small I was against his brawny height.

I sucked in my breath and drew on my failing courage. “Thank you for saving me from those peasants, milord.” I could barely hear my own voice, it had so little strength.

“I considered letting them have you,” he snapped, “but I feared there'd be nothing left of you to punish.”

With that, he turned and stalked off. Hands now chained behind my back, I stumbled after him, on the end of the leash he held. Somehow, I had to blunt his anger. “Please understand. I could do nothing else.”

He whirled on me and I instinctively jumped back, almost falling as I hit the end of my tether. “I could have raped you,” he said. “I thought about it. I could have fucked you without any consideration, but no, instead I saw to your pleasure before tending to my own. And you did experience pleasure, both times. Didn't you?”

I swallowed and told the truth. “Yes, milord.”

“Indeed. The whole castle heard you screaming as you came. I thought we could . . . I even unchained you afterward. And how did you reward me? You ran for the woods. You're lucky I didn't let them kill you.”

I couldn't take it anymore. “Milord, I couldn't let you treat me as a whore!”

“You have no idea how a whore is treated!” His eyes narrowed and an unpleasant smile crossed his lips. “But you will.”

•   •   •

I
stumbled after milord's broad back as he stalked into his castle, my leash held tightly in his hand. He headed into the main hall, his steps long and angry as I scrambled behind.

I frowned, suddenly aware of strange sounds coming from the hall—loud slaps and gasps. Milord stopped so suddenly I almost collided with him. Cautiously, I peered past the powerful bulge of his biceps. And drew in a hard breath.

The footman sat in milord's chair, his shirt and coat discarded over the back of it. The firelight painted his muscular torso as his arm rose and fell, broad hand descending again and again on the naked bottom of the woman draped across his lap. She squirmed, her rump reddening under his steady smacks. I could see the thick blond bush growing at the base of her belly, the lips of her vulva sprung apart by her bending posture.

Throwing her head back, she peered over her shoulder at the footman, her eyes bright, her cheeks as rosy as her bottom. “You've got . . . AH! . . . a hard . . . hand, Jack! Ease off . . .”

“My hand ain't the only thing that's hard, May.”

The next smack seemed to echo, and she kicked and screeched. “Oh, please, have mercy!”

“As if you wanted it,” Jack snorted, and stopped spanking her long enough to plunge two fingers into her. “HA! You're hot as blood pudding, you little tart.”

Outraged, I threw a look up toward milord's face, expecting him to berate the lewd pair. Instead, he wore a half smile I didn't care for at all.