A Measured Risk (23 page)

She dropped to her knees in the straw, no longer aware of anything else but him. He unfastened his nankeen breeches, then he was holding his cock. From this angle, it looked huge. Maybe a little intimidating. She could never get all of
that
into her mouth.

“Just kiss it first.”

 
She put her lips to the head. It was like hot, smooth silk stretched over iron. Her heart beat faster at the sensation.

He threaded his hand into her hair, sliding his fingers along her scalp. “Now use your tongue. All around it, Nan.”

 
She complied, running her tongue around the velvety crown. Fluid leaked from him, warm and salty. She licked away and it only seemed to increase the amount that flowed. Goodness, of all the things he’d cajoled her into, this was surely the wickedest.

“Open wide and take me as deep as is comfortable.”

 
She took him into her mouth. His hand gripped her hair more tightly and he released his breath in a hiss. She glanced up at him, uncertain.

He nodded.

Dear God. He tasted divine. She wanted to consume him whole. She eagerly took him deeper yet, trying to take the all of him. His crown reached the back of her tongue, and as he leaked profusely, the hot fluid rushed into her throat. The urge to gag arose. She tried to fight it back but then a small retch overtook her.

He gripped her shoulder and pulled out, caressing her head as she shuddered and lurched a moment.

“Steady now
.
Go slower
.
I need to know how much you can comfortably take.” He touched her cheek. “Open wider and relax; let yourself become accustomed to it. If you feel yourself gag again, try to swallow.”

It was impossible to relax with her blood pounding through her, singing in her ears. She wanted so desperately to please him. But as she wrapped her lips about his thick, throbbing length she sensed she wasn’t getting it quite right. She had only half his cock in her mouth.

Yet his hand remained tight on her hair and his breathing was more like a rhythmic grunting. She realised he was trembling almost as hard as she was. His balls drew tight to his body and his stomach was taut. She knew his body now. Knew he was about to come.

A sudden panic hit her. He might come in her mouth. Oh God, she hadn’t ever imagined such a thing!

He pressed on her shoulders, withdrew, then wrapped his hand tightly about the base of his cock and inhaled deeply. He closed his eyes and groaned, panting hard as he released his hand.

He had stopped himself from coming. She hadn’t realised a man could. But why had he done so? She had wanted to please him. Her heart had beat for nothing else during those moments he’d been in her mouth. Anxiety pulsed through her blood.

She glanced up at his face. “I did it wrong, didn’t I?”

His eyes shone luminescent as a summer sky as he smiled and cupped her face. “You did fine.”

Self-awareness returned. She was in a stable, kneeling in stale straw. Servicing a gentleman with her own spit oozing down her chin. And thoroughly enjoying every moment. She brought her arm up and wiped her face with her sleeve.

Jon stared down at Anne, admiring the full, lush breasts that fairly exploded out of the unbuttoned dress. Glassy sapphire eyes started back at him, full of confusion. Damn it, he was confused too. He’d been with so many skilled women. And of course this here had been exactly as he anticipated. She’d been inexperienced, frustratingly clumsy in her actions. But God, she’d also been perfectly submissive. Maddeningly sensual in her enjoyment whilst sucking his cock. However, it hadn’t been enough.

She was giving only her body, her physical service, her climax at his command. And he wanted…
what
?

Something deeper than mere physical submission. Total capitulation of her carefully guarded self. To be allowed into that place she shared only with dead philosophers. He shouldn’t touch her now. He should take some time to sort this all through. To cool his head. However, his overwrought passions demanded release.

“Lie back.” He touched her shoulders.

She didn’t resist. She fell back upon the straw covered floor, her midnight black hair fanning out around her head, her sloe eyes huge and burning with hunger.

He hooked his hand into her hem and shoved her muslin skirt up to her waist. Then he all but fell on her.

He thrust deep. Sweet Christ, it was gratifying how drenched her cunt was. And snug as a glove. But it wasn’t enough. He lifted her buttocks up and drove himself in and out of her with a violent passion. She lifted her hips to meet his every downward stroke and clung to him with arms and legs wrapped tightly about his body.

He stopped fucking her. “Who owns you, Nan?”

She looked up at him with shocked, passion
-
glazed eyes.

“Tell me, Nan, or I shall stop.”

Her eyes closed. “You do, only you.”

He withdrew from her and her whimpers sounded in his ear as he rolled her over onto her hands and knees. His hand made sharp, slapping contact with her buttocks several times, the sound an echoing crack in the stable. She arched upwards and he couldn’t bear the sight of that broad, plump arse, already rosy pink from his hand. He thrust into her and took her fast and furiously, brushing the hair off her neck and nipping at her nape. Their simultaneous climaxes were explosive, like nothing he’d ever experienced. He almost didn’t pull out in time.

And yet
,
emotionally, he remained so deep inside her that he was uncertain of his moorings. It wasn’t a very comfortable place to be.

* * * *

At sunset, Anne ate the hare placed before her with no complaints, eyeing Jon and wondering what was on his mind. Since this morning, after they’d left the stable, he’d been unfailingly polite—too polite in fact. He was distant.

She could think only that she’d disappointed him.

Of course he would be kind. For all his perverse erotic tastes, he was at heart a gentleman. But she had known from the start that she would disappoint him. She just had hoped it wouldn’t come this soon. They had three whole weeks to go. Only now could she admit how much she’d been looking forward to that time with him.

What would happen now? Would he find some excuse to cut their time here short?

She tried to think how it had come to this. What deficiency had she shown too much? This man had lived in harsh army situations, faced and survived battle. She couldn’t even face her own pampered life with any degree of adequacy.

“What’s wrong?” His deep voice startled her from her thoughts.

“I could not even operate a weapon, much less kill my own dinner.”

He stared at her as if she’d grown horns. “Of course you can’t. You’re a lady
,
born and bred.”

“Well, it makes me rather pathetic, does it not?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would.”

His face lit with interest. “You would like to learn?”

“Oh
,
goodness, no,” she said quickly, sorry she’d even said anything.

“Why not? I could teach you.”

She turned her attention back to the meat. She lifted her fork and placed a piece in her mouth, trying not to grimace at the detested taste. Eating gave her something to focus on other than her dismal fears and soon the lot was gone.

“Anne, do you really want to learn to hunt? To fish?”

She shrugged. “Fishing might prove interesting.” She looked up from her empty plate and gave him a bright, happy laugh.

His broad, high forehead wrinkled as his dark brown brows drew together.

“Are you sure you’re quite all right?” he asked. Then his frown deepened, his fierce expression sent the same curl of fear down into her stomach as it had the very first time she’d met him.

She flinched away.

He took her hand. “Was I too rough in the stable, Nan? Should we talk about this?”

“Oh
,
that.” Her face burned under his regard. “It was…interesting.”

“Interesting as in I frightened you and now you’re trying to put a polite face on it?”

“I am quite all right.” She couldn’t look at him.

“We should always discuss when something makes you uncomfortable.”

“Yes, of course.”

He leant forward and kissed her forehead. Then he stood and his boots sounded on the floor as he walked away.

Their empty plates and dirty utensils clattered as he set to washing them in the basin.

She leapt to her feet. “I could do that,” she said with no real confidence. She’d never washed a dish in her life. She went to his side and lifted the soap cake.

He took it from her. “No, you are not to wash dishes.”

“Why ever not? It is woman’s work.”

“You’re not just a woman. You’re a lady.” He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Teasing entered his expression. “And
,
more importantly, you are my personal plaything. I don’t want your hands roughened.”

“But I want to pull my own weight here.”

“It’s not your decision.”

“They are my hands—surely I may decide if they shall be exposed to work or not.”

“Nan, we’ve talked about this. Your body belongs to me and your hands are part of your body. I happen to prize your skin very much. If I want your body oiled every day and soft, it shall be. If I want your hands kept pristine, they shall be.”

Defiance burned her. “But I may learn to hunt and catch fish?”

“Yes, but you shall do so only when you are with me, like this.”

“I see.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

He frowned. “What do you see?”

“That you mean to control every aspect of my life.”

“I never lied about that, Nan.”

“Well, I can’t breathe like that.”

“You’ll adapt,” he replied firmly.

Her mouth fell open. Mere moments ago, she’d been ready to cry into her pillow because he might be disappointed in her. What insanity. The man was an impossible tyrant. “Did you expect this from all your other love
affaires
?”

“They were nothing like this. This is…something very rare.”

Her heart started pounding
,
but whether from fear or hope or some confused mixture of the two, she didn’t know. “Don’t sham me.”

She couldn’t bear it if he did. She’d been laughed at and mocked by her own class too much. If
he
were to join them—

“Anne, you knew this was something different too. From the first time we met.” He grew silent for a moment
,
scrubbing then rinsing a plate. “I don’t want this to end in October.”

Her mouth fell open. “How many times must I say it? I shall go to live in Ireland, just as soon as I can bear to travel by carriage again.”

She had no choice. Her sister was coming. She couldn’t be cavorting with a man once her sister arrived in England.

“By the end of this month, you may not wish to pack off to Ireland so quickly.”

She understood of course. He meant for her to be his mistress. Someone he could control at his leisure and dismiss at his whim. “I won’t be your mistress. Not long term like that.”

“What are you so afraid of? Why does everything have to be so set over this? Can we not simply be lovers now and see where things lead?”

“Everything is in your favour. And please, just understand when I say that I cannot be your long
-
term mistress.”

“I already told you. I have an understanding with another lady and I never break my word once given. So I shan’t ever marry you, Nan
.
If that is where you are thinking to lead things—to pressure me into a proposal—forget it.”

“I don’t want to lead things anywhere. I asked you for help and guidance. You agreed, if I would allow myself to become your…
little wench
,
as you put it. I did so. Then you told me to take care, not to expect too much from you. I haven’t. I have kept my expectations on my future in Ireland.”