Carnal Pleasures (17 page)

In a rush to get it done, Griff poked a shaky finger between Dulcie’s labia and stroked. The potion had released her sexual juices, glazing the entrance to her pussy. His fingertip came away slick and wet. He leaned forward. “So help me, Dulcie, I don’t want to hurt you, but I’ve got to do this.”

He sucked in a deep breath and undid his breeches. He placed his rigid cock at the point of entry and shoved his rigid cock inside her with a swift, hard jerk of his buttocks, burying himself deep in one powerful thrust, tearing through her maidenhead, and seating his erection to its fullest length.

Dulcie jerked from the rough, forcible intrusion almost instantaneously. A long wail tore from her throat when he rammed into her. She struggled vainly to get away from the unexpected stabbing pain.

Griff’s full weight forced Dulcie to the mattress, pinning her flat. “Lie still!” he rasped, his voice stretched tight by tension. Holding back further thrusts, he gave her trembling body time to accept him. “The pain will ease soon. Take my word on it.”

* * * *

Take my word on it,
echoed in Dulcie’s brain. She remembered her stepmother’s words in the note ordering her to come to Town.

Was this what she meant? Was I brought here to be seduced by the countess’s nephew?

Pressure inside Dulcie was like a hot poker searing the opening between her thighs. Her struggles didn’t cease immediately, but she realized they were of no use. Griff lay on top of her, keeping her from moving while she drifted in and out of consciousness.

“Dammit, I didn’t want to hurt you. Stay quiet, Dulcie!” he warned again. “Bloody hell, I need you to come. Now.”

“C-come? Where?” Dulcie replied hazily. She had no idea what he meant.

“Dulcie, I beg you just don’t move,” Griff pleaded.

Her eyes dragged open slowly as she tried to focus her gaze on him. “I-I thought…c-coming up here was what you wanted.” Her eyes became unfocused again.

* * * *

Griff leaned forward suddenly and kissed her with a combination of want and forgiveness. Finishing the ravishment would go easier if she enjoyed his kisses, he thought. He sank into her mouth expertly. She seemed to surrender, even join him in the erotic blending of lips and tongues.

Believing she was ready, Griff reached for the spot where their bodies joined. His thumb flicked her clit, stroking gently. He wanted her to climax quickly and as often as possible, to get the drug out of her system. He hoped he could hold off his own release before she came.

“Oh, umm!” she exclaimed when he touched her there. “Ohh, heavens! I-I … umm…” She squirmed restlessly under him. Hopefully, his rhythmic stroking would soothe her sexual itch. If this didn’t alleviate her distress completely, perhaps there were other means to help her. He certainly knew enough carnal ways to satisfy a woman.

Griff’s breathing slowed although his desire spiraled into a sizzling, growing coil of need. He ached for satisfaction, too. He pulled his cock out of her core in a sensual plundering of her body, and slid it in—again and again. His senses had reeled after his initial plunge. She was so hot, so tight, so enticing, it was difficult to maintain control. He never felt like this before, but then, he never fucked a neophyte. He’d always enjoyed fucking experienced partners.

Bracing himself, Griff pushed in deeper, stroking Dulcie faster. He hung on, waiting for her erotic explosion, praying he had strength enough to send her over the edge for her first climax. They fit together fine now that her body accepted him. He knew, too, that once a day or night was never going to be enough to satisfy his hunger for Lady Dulcie.

Griff pressed on, concentrating on gratifying Dulcie. She maintained her drug-induced passion as she arched against him, her wanton behavior growing stronger and bolder as sensation built in her core.

He did everything he knew how, inside and out, to deliver her to the brink. Bloody hell, he was too damn close himself. He kept circling her clit, pulling out of and surging back in again, pummeling her with deeper and deeper plunges until he was finally gratified by her loud exclamation of pleasure. Grinding his teeth and tensing the muscles of his backside, he threw his head back, and gripped Dulcie’s buttocks. At once, he emptied his seed into her, no longer able to maintain control.

It was several moments later when Griff drew in a shuddery breath, glancing at the supine form lying quietly beneath him. Damnation! How could he have been so foolish? He always pulled out. He had vowed never to let that happen when he came.

Other than that one mistake, fucking Dulcie had been almost perfect.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing soft and slow now. She looked relaxed. Any signs of tremors and twitchings were dormant. Thank God, he thought. Fucking her had erased her most fearsome anxieties and discomfort. He felt his own tension slowly ease. He was sated by the prolonged foreplay and release. His heavy breathing tapered to normal. The muscles in his arms and thighs relaxed, too. Ah yes, making love with Lady Dulcie again couldn’t come soon enough for him.

* * * *

Dulcie was wonderfully relaxed.

A series of powerful contractions had flowed through her, unleashing waves of unbelievable pleasure, inundating her inner being with a score of new and unexplored responses, sizzling along nerve endings that she didn’t know belonged to her. She remembered loosing an unexpected keening sound, hearing it reverberating within the room, as her convulsing core muscles squeezed Griff’s stroking erection. Her body clenched deliciously as she milked his cock. Gripping the linen bed sheet beside her hips, Dulcie shuddered with titillating spasms as reality shattered into flashing pieces of shimmering light, displaying a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors behind her eyelids and flinging her properly-brought-up, ladylike-training into total disarray. Mind-bogging pleasure, meshed with wonderment and surprise, took root deep inside her, emotionally and physically.

She had been mortified when Griff first fondled her breasts and devoured her mouth in ways she never thought she’d be touched or kissed. Now that he had invaded her body so intimately, igniting and satisfying the deepest, darkest parts of her unplumbed depths, she wanted to experience that same ecstasy, that same enjoyment over again.

Shame had suddenly metamorphosed into something else, all consuming and needful. Her mind had accepted what she allowed Griff Spencer to do … without reservation. She still didn’t know why she had thrown herself at him, only that she had to, because she craved his help. Neither did she know what to do about it. During those terrifying minutes when her body was almost uncontrollable—wild and untamed—her mind, too, was unmanageable, aflame with lust and desire. Griff Spencer had saved her sanity. The fact that he was a master seducer didn’t matter. Instead, she had surrendered her false modesty, suppressed any improper inhibitions, and embraced what he was doing, begging him to rescue her from madness.

Was it wanton and wickedness that she wanted him to make love to her again? And soon? Was she vile and immoral, aching for him to touch her, caress her again? Letting him fondle and explore—and allowing her to do the same? Oh God, was she doomed to burn in hell while the bonfires of carnal desire boiled through her hot and uninhibited?

As unanswerable questions swam through the rivers of her mind, Dulcie floated in a quiet haze of tranquility, almost at peace—at least with her body. No hundreds of legs crawled across her skin. No itchy heat, no painful discomfort, nor continuing distress. No horrible sensations bedeviled her, tickling her arms and legs, numbing her fingers and toes. She felt as if her bones had softened to porridge, but surely later, when she rested, they would hold her upright. Dulcie inhaled deeply then released a long sigh of pleasure and contentment. She lay back and closed her eyes. At last she could sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

As Dulcie slept, Griff rose from the mattress, strode to where a supply of liquor was available, and poured himself three fingers of French brandy from a crystal decanter. He fell into one of the wing chairs facing the fireplace and stretched his long legs out in front of him. Every now and then, he glanced over at the bed to check if Dulcie had roused from her lethargy.

Well, it’s done. Now, I can despise myself in peace.

He rolled the potent liquor around in his mouth, trying to remove the sour taste of what he had been forced to do to satisfy his bargain with the countess. The brandy burned a path of dishonor to his guts. His nerves still twitched slightly from the effects of the aphrodisiac as he endured the cuts to his once-proud male ego.

Thankfully, it appeared as if Dulcie was recuperating and sleeping in deep repose. Maybe she’ll forget what I did, he thought, the same way she denied remembering our earlier tryst. But this time, denying what happened wouldn’t be that easy. He had almost raped her—for her own good, of course, for he knew of no other way to counteract the potion they must have been given. She would have been hysterical in his bedchamber without relief.

It dawned on him that he must remove her from his room…and quickly.

Again, he looked toward the quiet sleeper, the delicious female he had devoured with lustful eyes and ravaging lips and hands and body. He hoped her dreams were peaceful. When he’d eased from the bed, he had covered her nakedness, pulling up the linen sheet and tucking it under her chin. She didn’t move, but he heard her sigh, deeply, contentedly. He had made love to her, but perhaps, she had merely endured. He’d learned from other promiscuous rakes that virgins experienced pain and bloodletting only when the maidenhead was broached the first time.

He tried not to hurt her physically. Now, he wondered if Dulcie’s emotional health might be in jeopardy.

Uh oh!
The bed linens! There must be bloodstains. Could he come up with an excuse to stave off the servants’ gossip?

At that precise moment, the door to his bedchamber from the countess’s suite swung open without warning. Griff leapt out of the wing chair. Agina stood there, still dressed from her evening on the Town. Her gaze took in the bed with Dulcie still in it. “Ah,” she said, sounding very pleased. “Good boy.” She strolled toward him with a smile on her lips.

“I hope to Christ and bloody hell you’re pleased, Agina,” Griff snarled through clenched teeth. He kept his rant almost inaudible, enunciating his words precisely. He faced the countess with more than anger flashing out of his gray eyes. “Didn’t you trust me to do what we discussed? Did you have to drug us?”

“Drug you? I certainly did not, Spencer. Don’t be silly.” Her expression was bland, noncommittal. “However, one never knows when one’s plans may go awry. I’m glad yours did not—for both our sakes.” She whirled away from his angry glower and tiptoed toward the four-poster. Leaning over the bed, she gazed down at Dulcie, then asked, “How long has she slept?”

“Not long. But I meant to remove her from here, or…”

“Why? What difference does it make if she wakes up in your bed? She will certainly realize where she is and what happened after you tell her. You can also explain what she can expect afterward.”

The countess walked back to face Griff. “I, of course, shall make a terrible fuss over what occurred. Dreadful. Quite dreadful.” She smirked openly.

Pursing her lips, Agina reached out to fiddle with Griff’s wrinkled shirt, sliding fingers through the opening to caress his bare chest with the lascivious glide of a questing, jeweled hand. She looked up at him, coyly. “Most parents make a fuss, but in this case, I can’t be blamed, because I wasn’t here to protect her.”

Griff grabbed Agina’s wrist in a firm grip and ripped the creeping hand away from his skin, stepping back quickly from her unwanted caress.

Eyeing Griff’s less-than-happy demeanor, Agina laughed naughtily, with obvious satisfaction. “You must know, Griff, that I shall scold both of you, strongly, ranting long and loud about your deplorable behavior. Dulcina will hear what I expect of you, my honorable nephew, to do the right thing.” Agina raised her arched brows in answer to his taut, indignant expression.

Swiftly, Agina spun in a half circle toward the door to the master dressing rooms, her fancy gown swishing around her ankles. “Trent, bring me the ring,” she demanded in a low voice to the older woman who stood silent, lingering in the doorway. The countess turned back to Griff. “The ring belonged to Eloise Trayhern,” Agina explained. “The betrothal ring was given to Dulcina’s mother by the late earl. You are to place it on Dulcina’s finger when she wakens.”

Trent delivered the velvet pouch and laid it in the countess’s outstretched palm. “You may tell her to whom it belonged. You may say I saved it so her betrothed may place on her ring finger. Perhaps she may think fondly of me because of it.” The countess’s smiling lips broadened into another wicked chuckle.

Agina gripped one of Griff’s hands and opening his clenched fingers, plunked the pouch into his palm. She finished with a flourish, saying, “Congratulations on your forthcoming marriage to my stepdaughter, Spencer! And yes, goodnight,
dear
nephew.” Agina’s laughter cackled as she preceded her maid through the dressing rooms and into her bedchamber.

Griff heard the echo of the countess’s laughter in his ears for a long time afterward. He slumped into the leather chair, took a mouthful of liquor, and allowed it to burn his tongue and throat. A parade of ideas and schemes marched over the rugged paths of his worried mind. For a long time he gazed into the low flames in the grate. What to do? What
could
he do, to wiggle out of this damned coil he got himself into? Dulcie must surely despise him. He didn’t blame her at all. She
should
hate his guts. He snatched from her what no man had the right to take.

Griff’s head pounded, probably from the love potion they were given. Right now, he wished nothing better than to drown his troubles in brandy, but that would only make things worse. He needed to reconcile what happened before Dulcie woke. He planned to enlighten the girl about two things—what took place between them and what she knew about her inheritance.