A Scandalous Arrangement (26 page)

Victoria might have offered an apology, but there was no rancour in his tone, just sensual amusement. He could be stern with her. He often was, but not tonight. Tonight she sensed they were playing, even if he did intend to do something utterly shocking to her. She gathered what remained of her shattered wits and got back on all fours, her bottom upturned, her knees spread wide.

“Good girl. Now, try to keep still unless I tell you to move. And if I hurt you, I expect you to let me know that. This may feel strange, but it should not be painful. The battle, if there is one, will be in your head. Your body will love what I’m about to do, if you allow it.”

Confused, Victoria did not know how to respond, nor even if a reply was expected. She clenched handfuls of eiderdown in her fists, willing herself not to panic, to remain calm. This would be fine. She had said she trusted Adam, and that was true. Adam’s strange remarks seemed to be suggesting she should also learn to trust herself, and her body. She was determined to try.

She let out a startled gasp as something cool dribbled down the furrow between her buttocks. “Oh, what is that, sir?”

“Oil. A lubricant. I said I wouldn’t hurt you—this will help.”

“Oh, I…” She stopped, uncertain what question she wanted to ask, if any.

“Are you all right, Victoria?” He sounded concerned. “You’ve tensed up again.”

“It’s just so strange. So… intimate.”

“It is, and I love that you trust me enough to let me do this. But remember, you do still have your special word. Use it if you need to. Or if you just want me to slow down a bit, or you have a question, you have only to say so. I believe you will like this. I want you to like it, and you can’t unless you feel safe. Do you feel safe, little one?”

As he spoke he caressed her bottom, sinking his fingertips into the seam between her cheeks, smoothing the oil into her skin. Victoria’s fears were real enough, but muted by a veneer of growing arousal as her body responded to his caress. She could not help it, he had only to touch her and she melted.

She chewed on her lower lip as he worked the oil around her rear hole. Her arsehole, as he insisted on terming it. Victoria still suspected the place might benefit from remaining nameless, but her objections were evaporating fast. When Adam slipped the tip of one slick finger into the entrance, she sucked in a sharp hiss of air, but remained still.

He paused, perhaps waiting for her to object, to whisper her safe word, to ask him to stop. She did none of those things. Instead, she lifted her bottom further and pushed back against his hand. He dropped a light kiss on her hip and pressed his finger further in.

Victoria braced for pain, even though he had said he would not hurt her. There was tightness, a stretching, a sensation familiar yet totally alien, but no pain. She knew when his finger was fully seated within her, and could not prevent the low moan of surrender that escaped her lips.

This is it. This is submission
. The thought flittered though her mind, igniting new waves of response somewhere deep within. He had mastered her, owned her, claimed her. Whatever he chose to do to her, she would submit. And she would love it, as she loved this. Her body knew the truth; she was his.

“Victoria?” He leaned over her, and she turned her head to meet his gaze.

“I am fine, sir. Please continue.”

He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, then straightened. “I believe you wanted me to fuck you. Am I correct?”

“Yes, sir. Will you do it—there?” A finger was not too much of challenge. But his thick, hard cock?

“No, my sweet. Soon, but not tonight. Apart from other considerations, such as privacy, or the fact that I intend to take a lot of time over you the first time, that is not how babies are made. And I am keenly aware of your wishes in that regard.”

“Oh. Right. I see.”

“So, if you will excuse me for a moment…” He withdrew his finger.

Victoria was moved to protest. She had found the intrusion erotic; it seemed to heighten other sensations, in her clit for example. She turned her head again, and this time was treated to the fine sight of Adam unfastening and shedding his trousers. In moments he was naked, and kneeling behind her on the bed.

“Two fingers this time. You’ll feel them when I fuck you.”

Victoria closed her eyes, nodded. She would have welcomed anything, was convinced that he need only blow on her and she would climax again. Two fingers in her arsehole seemed a reasonable bargain, if she also got his cock in her pussy.

He poured a little oil from a small bottle onto his fingers, then applied more of the lubricant to her arse too. One finger slipped in with ease. He withdrew, then thrust in deep again. Victoria arched her back, her senses quivering. He was right, this was good. The second finger stretched her, but was not painful. He gave a couple of slow, smooth thrusts, and her body capitulated. She groaned, tightening her arse muscles around his fingers.

“Good girl. But I need your bottom a little higher, please.” He exerted the slightest pressure from inside, lifting her rear end up a little more. She knew her pussy was swollen, dripping disgracefully, desperate for his hard cock. Victoria wanted him inside her, now.

“Sir, quick. Please, I need this. Need you.”

“You shall have me, sweet slut.” He positioned the head of his cock at her entrance and drove it home in one long, smooth stroke.

Full, so full. Stuffed.
The sensation was sublime, both holes filled with him. By him. Bizarre words whirled around her brain—possessed, taken, powerless. But powerful too, because this was her choice. She chose to do this, could have said no, could have stopped him.

She would never stop him. She loved him.

Adam pulled back, then thrust again. His cock rubbed against her pussy walls, the friction delighting her. She squeezed, gripping hard, everywhere. She wanted harder, faster, more.

He delivered, setting up a brisk, demanding rhythm. He twisted his fingers inside her arse. That heightened her arousal, causing her to gyrate her hips madly, seeking… something.

“Stroke your clit.”

“What? I don’t…”

“Reach back, and stroke your clit. It will feel good.”

He was right. She knew he was right. Tossing aside the remaining shreds of her tattered and wholly useless modesty, she did as he suggested. And was gone. Her climax was instantaneous, powerful, an avalanche of erotic sensation that stole her breath for several moments as her pussy and her arse convulsed.

Adam continued to pound his cock into her, at the same time thrusting his fingers in and out of her rear hole. Beyond coherent motion, Victoria gripped her clit between her fingers and pressed hard. Her actions were clumsy, untutored, but enough to prolong and enhance her release, sending her to even dizzier heights.

Only when she eventually started to return to her senses did she become aware of Adam’s guttural moans, his low, tortured breath sounds. He rammed his cock in hard, and held still as his erection lurched inside her. The familiar heat of his semen washed her inner space. Victoria tightened around him, as though by doing so she might hold him with her forever.

Six weeks. Had it really only been six weeks since he left? Well, six weeks and two days. Forty-four days and nights?

Victoria set down her pen and recapped her inkwell. She would finish her correspondence tomorrow. Or the day after.

What had happened to her? She used to be so much more diligent, so much more hard-working. Adam had changed that. He had spanked her for working late—twice—and maybe that had brought about some change in her. But she thought his influence was probably more subtle than that.

He had shown her a new and different way of living. He had awakened in her desires she had never dreamed of, appetites she could not have imagined. And he offered possibilities; new, delightful possibilities. He could fill her body and her life. She was just beginning to believe that perhaps he had.

She loved Adam Luke, she knew that. She wanted him. Every day, every minute since he had left Wynne House the morning after the awards dinner, she had craved his return with a desperation that frankly unnerved her. And in the last couple of weeks, she had begun to suspect he had left her with more than just fond memories.

Her monthly courses were almost a month late. She was just daring to hope.

She let her thoughts drift back to that morning, which seemed so long ago now. She had slept in Adam’s bed, a deep, satisfied sleep despite her earlier wakefulness. He had roused her as the fingers of the dawn light just started to penetrate the curtains, which she supposed he must have closed. They had definitely been open when she entered the room; she remembered the moonlight quite vividly. He had murmured in her ear that she should return to her room, that she did not want the maid to find her bed empty when the girl came to make up the fire.

For a brief, heady moment Victoria had wondered if she cared a jot what the maid found, or thought, but on further reflection decided he was right. She was resolved to live her life as she chose, but discretion would make things run more smoothly. Victoria was not a woman to court problems if she could avoid them. She kissed Adam and slid from his bed as he retrieved her discarded wrap from the floor. He helped her into it, tied the belt at her waist, then accompanied her down the hallway to her own door. He cupped her chin and kissed her, and told her not to be late for breakfast.

She was not late. She was first to enter the dining room, in fact, closely followed by her mother. Hester poured tea for them both, then took her usual place at the table. Victoria sat opposite, choosing a seat where she could see the door. She had not intended to, but found herself watching for Adam, listening for his footfalls as he crossed the hall from the bottom of the stairs.

“I trust you had a successful evening. Did we win any awards?”

Distracted, Victoria beamed at her mother. “We did. Two, in fact.”

“I see. Shall we need to have a cabinet built, do you think, to show off our accolades?”

“Perhaps. I intend to weave much more in the way of fine cloth. Can I leave the showing off to you?”

“Of course, my dear, I shall be very good at it. A nice cherry wood, I think.” She reached for the sugar bowl and selected a small lump to drop into her teacup. “So, did you and Mr. Luke have a good time at the dinner?”

“Yes. He is good company. We danced, and…” She had faltered, searching for something safe to share with her mother given the nature of the evening she had spent with Adam. At least, the latter part of it. “…and we spoke.” It was not wholly untrue. They had spoken. A bit.

“He is a pleasant man. And handsome too.”

Victoria nodded as she reached for a slice of toast. “I suppose he is. Pleasant company, I mean. And an excellent business partner.”

“You like him?”

Victoria looked up in surprise. It was unlike her mother to quiz her on such a matter. “Yes, I like him. It was very good of him to agree to a partnership, to allow me a chance to regain our livelihood. He did not have to.”

“No, of course he did not.” Hester sipped her tea before levelling a sharp look in Victoria’s direction. “Nor did he need to return Wynne House to us. That was most generous of him.”

“Yes, it was.” Her mother’s pointed look was not lost on Victoria. She knew that expression, and she waited.

“You did not sleep well, I fear.” Hester lifted her teacup, sipping from it in her dainty way, a skill her daughter always envied.

Victoria frowned. “Why would you think that? I slept very well, thank you.”

“I see. You fared better than I did then. I woke with a terrible thirst, no doubt caused by the lamb casserole we had at dinner. Mrs. Bridger is a wonderful cook, but she does have a heavy hand with the salt cellar on occasions.”

Victoria remained silent, apprehensive. Her mother was working up to something. She had a growing fear she knew exactly what that would be. Victoria folded her hands in her lap and waited for the other shoe to drop.

“I had to go in search of a drink of water, down to the kitchens. It was perhaps three o’clock, maybe a little later. I noticed that the front door was locked, and supposed you had turned the key as you came in. But I am a mother; I fuss, I daresay. Anyway, I needed to be sure that you were home safe so I peeped into your room on my way back to bed. You were not there, though your lovely ball gown was hanging on the front of your wardrobe so I knew that you were in the house. I waited, perhaps for twenty minutes or so.”

Victoria met her mother’s steady gaze. She could lie, she supposed. She could no doubt come up with some half-reasonable explanation for her whereabouts in the middle of the night, and her mother would accept that. She would not believe the tale, naturally. Hester Wynne was too astute for such deception. Nothing more would be said, and they would both know where they stood. But Victoria loved her mother, and she respected her more than she could find words to express. She could not lie to her.

“I see.” Not an admission, nor a denial. She settled for that, for now.

“You were with Mr. Luke.” It was a statement.

“I was.”

“You slept with him?”

“Yes.”

“We both know that the term ‘sleeping’ is a euphemism.” Another statement.

“We do.”

“He is your lover?”

“He is.” The description was near enough.

Hester’s gaze was level. She did not miss a beat. “You chose well, my dear, though I would naturally expect that of you. You have impeccable taste. Do you intend to marry him?”

Victoria regarded her mother warily. She had expected somewhat more in the way of censure. “No. We have—an arrangement. It will not end in marriage.”

Her mother lifted one dainty eyebrow. “Oh? Mr. Luke is already married, perhaps?”

Victoria shook her head, her denial emphatic. “No, of course not. I would never do such a thing. I… I asked him before we…”

Her mother spared her the need to elaborate. “I am relieved, though not surprised. You are a woman of strong principles, I am well aware of that. You inherited your integrity from your father. So, why will you not marry?”