A Betty's Pledge: Volume One (27 page)

It was then that I saw a red satin ribbon hanging from the middle of the canopy above
me with a small envelope attached to the end. Slowly I sat up, not taking my eyes
away from the strange addition as I timidly reached out my hand and snatched the letter
from the bow. I opened the unsealed envelope and pulled out a small card inside. Seeing
the familiar elegant handwriting, a small smile curved my lips as I read my next instruction.

It’s a welcome surprise that my desire to be with you has taken over my thoughts completely.

With that in mind, what I share with you tonight should be kept between only you and
me.

Pull the ribbon, slowly . . .

Curious, I set the paper gently on the bed. Rising up on my knees, I reached for the
ribbon, pulling slowly as instructed. In a soft flow of movement, the canopy above
me released, surrounding the entire bed in a thick curtain of silk. I could see faint
shadows from the outside caused by the light from the fire, but for the most part,
I was completely hidden within the bed, giving me a sense of anticipatory excitement.
I could feel my desire building as I sat there on the bed alone, knowing that in my
seclusion, I only had mere minutes until my Consort arrived.

My heart began to pound furiously. My thighs and stomach muscles clenched in expectation
as I sat there with wide eyes, looking around the bed to make out any shadow or movement.

“Do you always look so beautiful wearing next to nothing?”

His voice came from somewhere in the room, deep and sensual, making my heart race
and breath catch in my throat. Perhaps he’d been watching me case the room—that would
be the only explanation.

There had been someone watching me from the Observation Deck: him.

“I wanted to look nice for you,” I told him honestly, finding it oddly enthralling
to be beneath the silk, away from his prying eyes. Like this, I felt confident enough
to be completely honest with him, with myself, hidden away from his stark presence.
It made me want to say things I wouldn’t dare to say to a man, to admit what he did
to me the night he touched me in the bathroom, how he seemed to make my very soul
come alive with his disarming words and skilled fingers.

“Can I ask you a question?” His voice came to me in low rumble that had my insides
melting.

“Yes.” I whispered the word, fearing that I’d break the spell if I dared to speak
any louder.

“What did you think about when you pleasured yourself on the day of your trial?” His
voice was coming from a different area now, and it seemed he was circling the bed—I
could see the silhouette of his body move just beyond the curtain.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? No erotic images or scenarios? No images of a muscled man ready to please
you? Memories of a night spent underneath a well-skilled lover?”

“No. I-I-I just thought of how my body felt. How I could touch myself exactly how
I needed.”

“And no other man has been able to satisfy you that way? Read your body and how it
responds, making sure to bring you to the edge?”

“No,” I whispered, and the tone in my voice gave away how desperately I wanted that
to change. “No one had been able to pleasure me the way I needed until I arrived here
at the mansion.”

There were several beats of silence as I stared out toward the fabric. I tried desperately
to hear where he could be standing, listening for falling footsteps or the sound of
him breathing. The mystery kept me entranced, and I felt my body becoming flushed
with desire. His words fueled a heady sense of urgency between us. It was powerful
and overwhelming, and I found myself desperate to hear his voice again.

“Lie down for me, Betty,” he instructed, his voice soft but commanding. “I want you
to show me how you like your body to be touched.”

Slowly, I lowered myself on the bed, my heels digging into the soft fur of the blanket,
leaving my silk-covered legs bent at the knee as my hair spilled out around me. I
brought my hand up toward my body, hesitantly touching my exposed stomach. I swallowed
thickly before my fingertips crept toward my lace-covered breast, and my breath hitched
when my other hand met my apex.

“What do you think of now?”

I didn’t respond, I couldn’t. I could only watch as his shadow appeared right next
to me, his silhouette so close I could reach it.

“I know you touch yourself. Just like you’re doing now; a woman as sensuous as you
would be very familiar with her own body. I’m just curious to learn what’s happening
in that little head of yours.”

My body hummed to life, his words serving as a catalyst, making me ache with deep
need. Eyes clamped shut, his words fueled me. Wanting to see how far he’d take this
little game, my fingertips edged below the lace of my panties and I answered.

“At f-first, when I’d arrived home after the party, I thought of the mystery . . .
the enchantment of the night. I liked how I felt so alluring that night. I liked the
way both the men and women watched me.”

“And later?”

“I thought of Diane and how different it felt to have her breast between my lips.
I’d never been with a woman before, and she felt so soft. It made me wet just to think
of her below me.”

I heard a soft rustle of the sheet, felt the bed move slightly.

“And now?” His voice a deep seductive whispered in my ear. “What are you thinking
of right now?”

“You,” I told him simply, my hand working in a slow rhythm while my clit pulsed in
tandem. “I’m thinking of the way you looked at me the night of the party.”

“You saw me watching you?” His words blew across the round swells of my breasts, as
if he was ghosting along my skin, not daring to get to close. The thought made my
back arch slightly in a desperate need to feel him touch me.

“Yes. I saw you sitting there, watching the way I moved, wanting me from afar.”

“What else?” The sound of his voice shifted to somewhere below me.

“The way you spoke to me. Took from me what you wanted. Coaxed an explosion from me.
I’m thinking about the way your fingers curled inside me.”

I mimicked my words with action, hating the fact that my fingers couldn’t get as deep
as his did. I let a little frustrated noise escape. The touch of his breath on my
thigh alerted me that he’d been watching what I was doing to myself and it sent me
spiraling out of control.

“God, do you know how beautiful you are when you climax? Your skin flushes and your
breasts swell, Mady. I just want to keep you in this state, right here, for the next
several hours.”

He continued to whisper filthy words to me, bringing me through the end of my orgasm
with just his voice alone. When my breathing finally regulated to a somewhat normal
level, I finally opened my eyes to see him kneeling at my feet, his eyes hooded as
he watched me with the same intensity he did the night of the party.

Seeing him kneeling there had been beyond my most erotic dream: completely shirtless,
exposing his toned and sculpted upper body. His dark pants were sitting low on his
hips, exposing the hard planes of his abdomen and pelvis. There was no possible way
he was wearing anything under those pants, and the thought of him being encased by
something that had only a mundane zipper in the way had me salivating.

We didn’t say anything to each other for several moments, both of us just staring
at the other—I watched as his muscles tensed and his gaze darkened with unbridled
lust. He saw me writhe on the bed, my fingers moving out from beneath my ruined underwear
and up toward my poorly neglected breasts.

At this point all my inhibitions before had completely been forgotten. Isaac had me
teeming on the edge of oblivion, willing and able to forget everything other than
the way his eyes burned into me with such intense need.

His voice pure seduction, this room was sinfully romantic, and I was his. My Dame
told me he’d set out to seduce me, make me welcome the fact he wanted to devour me,
and now I was almost desperate for it. Craving it like a madwoman.

This was it, the passion I was looking for. This was the type of man I’d longed for
subconsciously all these past lonely and desperate years, and he already had me wanting
to skip the formalities and foreplay.

I wanted his dick inside me right that minute.

And I could see no objection in Isaac’s face.

As I rose into a kneeling position in front of him, Isaac reached out to grab my hips,
forcefully pulling my body to lay flush with his. It took only a mere breath of time
for our lips to meet, his tongue plunging into my mouth as my fingers made a desperate
attempt to memorize the feel of his skin. His body felt firm yet soft, corded with
muscle and sinew, deliciously masculine. Hard and strong, perfectly proportioned,
I needed to feel him. I let my fingers travel through his silken hair as our lips
and tongues tangled, feeling the smooth strands fall through my fingers. I felt his
hands wrap around my back, one hand traveling down the curve of my spine, the other
seeking upward toward my neck, pulling my mouth closer to his.

The way he touched me was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. It was soft yet sure,
strong but gentle, passionate and reverent.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against my mouth, his lips traveling to my jaw and down
my neck as he continued to whisper sweet words to me. “God, your skin, Mady. You feel
so good against me. You melt into me. I can’t get enough,” he whispered, his words
mirroring the way he was touching on an almost indescribable level. His fingers felt
every inch of my skin, never pushing past whatever limits my body language had set. He
left it up to me to set the pace.

He didn’t understand. I was desperate for him . . .

All the built up tension, the sexual frustration over the last week—no, the last twenty-five
years of my fucking life—were wrapped up into this moment. Isaac needed to show me
exactly what being a Consort of the elusive Grants meant, and he needed to do it right
fucking now.

His seduction had pushed me over the edge. I didn’t want slow and gentle, romantic
or respectful. I wanted him hard and fast, and in that very moment.

“Isaac, take me. Show me . . .”

“Yes, my Betty,” he whispered against my shoulder, his fingers traveling to the back
of the silken confinement that entrapped my swollen, needy breasts. With a quick motion,
he unleashed the clasp on my bra, leaving me bare and available for his exploration.
Isaac didn’t spare one second on formality; his lips fastened around my aching nipple,
encircling it with his tongue. He let out a hoarse moan, like a man who’d been parched,
only now allowed to take a drink. My back arched into him, desperate to get as close
as possible, presenting myself to him in a silent offering.

“God, do you know how good you feel?” he asked. I moaned in response, fighting both
the need to revel in the sensations his mouth induced and the desire to release him
from his clothing. The decision was made for me when he slowly laid me down on the
bed, his mouth never leaving my chest as he did.

I lifted my hips off the mattress and the hand that wasn’t cupping my breast reached
for my silk panties, pulling them down my legs at an agonizingly slow pace. Wanting
things to progress much faster, I reached down for his jeans as his lips traveled
down my sternum toward my stomach. I unzipped his jeans, unlatching the button as
my feet came up to the sides of his legs, assisting the effort I was making to get
the damn things off him.

I heard Isaac let out a small chuckle against my heated skin.

“In a hurry?” he asked, snaking his tongue out to trace around my navel.

“Get these off, now!”

I’d become almost animalistic, frenetic, unhinged. When he wanted to go slowly, taking
his time trying to show me whatever the hell he had in his pea-sized brain, I wanted
him desperately. And I didn’t care if I came off like a complete whore as a loud moan,
bordering on the edge of a cry, ripped from my mouth the moment my hands fisted around
his impressive cock.

“Oh God . . . Mady, slow . . . down, baby,” he said in stunted words, his breath blowing
across my abdomen as I stroked him.

“No, I want you.”

“Mady, this is about you,” he said, trying to persuade me. Perhaps he was trying to
convince himself to keep from taking me roughly like I was demanding, but I didn’t
like his stalling tactics one bit.

“I’m ready.”

“No.”

Frustrated, I took my hand off his cock and reached for my own soaking core. I touched
myself, coating my fingertips with my desire, then encased his length once more, using
my own need as a lubricant.

“I’m ready,” I told him firmly, the grasp I had on him matching my desperate need.
He let out a shaky moan, something on the verge of pain as he felt what I did.

“Are you fucking serious right now? God, Mady. You don’t need to be here, do you know
that? You’re fucking incredible.”

“Shut the fuck up and take me,” I told him, and screamed as I felt his teeth dig into
my shoulder at the same time I felt him plunge into me.

We both let out a cry as we connected, my body arching off the bed. Isaac wrapped
his arm through the space my rounded spine caused between me and the bed, keeping
my body turned upward toward him like a sacrifice. He used his hold on me as some
kind of leverage, pushing into me with both his hips and his arms as he slammed my
body down on his waiting groin.