His Desirable Debutante (6 page)

He had her full attention now. What was he asking? She’d allowed his valet into their marriage bed. How much more could she do to prove she’d released any desire to be back in society’s good graces? “How?” she asked.

“Touch yourself.”

“No,” she said without pause for thought. He asked too much. Touching herself would bring back the flood of bad memories. Of getting caught and shunned, and relegated to the side of every ballroom, branded a sinner.

“You can do this,” Pierce said, reaching down to hold her hand. It was his simple touch that did it. ‘We’ll help you. Even call for a bathtub if necessary.”

She released a nervous laugh. “No. No tub. I…I’m scared.”

“Of what? Of finding your true self? Don’t be frightened by desire, sweetheart. Some of us have more than others.”

“And some of us have it in spades,” she muttered.

Pierce laughed. “True. And you’re one of them. As am I. Embrace it. Don’t run from it. I’m right here with you.”

She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. She could do this. What was so frightening? No one would know, save the two people in the room, and she trusted her husband. Trust, she realized, was liberating. She could be herself and act on her most secret desires with him, because he would never laugh or throw her to the wolves as the supposedly decent people who’d been her friends had done.

“All right.” She released his hand and sat higher up against the pillows. With heels braced against the mattress she parted her thighs and dipped a finger down. She closed her eyes against the pleasure. She was much wetter than she remembered, much closer to breaking point.

“Eyes open,” Pierce said. “We’re with you.”

Her eyes opened to the sight of both men kneeling on the bed at her side, holding their erect cocks and stroking. A lightning bolt speared her, turning her into a mass of desire. She fingered herself faster, dipping into her tight, pillowy passage and spreading moisture around her tight hard little bead.

As an experiment she squeezed her muscles around her finger. “Oh, god.”

The sensation of her fingers was only increased by Pierce and Gerrit also engaging in self-pleasure. The wall of taut male skin covering muscled chests and thighs surrounding her heightened her delight.

Her finger and her thumb worked faster, and one hand boldly shot out to hold the small sack on the underside of Pierce’s penis. Their hands brushed together and he grunted his pleasure.

It was all she could do to maintain her grip on sanity as both her hands moved in rhythm to reach her goal. Her feminine pants and whimpers joined deep breathing and the brush of male skin on skin, forming an unusual but beautiful symphony.

Faster and faster they all stroked till she was raising her hips and sliding fingers hard against herself. She could take no more and screamed in delight feeling the uncontrollable pulses of pleasure squeezing her fingers rhythmically. Warm wetness fell across her chest as Pierce’s rapid hand movements slowed and steadied.

Only Gerrit remained racing toward the goal, hand pumping his member faster. Sweat glistened on his chest, stark muscles stood out in relief from his effort.

Pierce grabbed his discarded cravat to wipe his seed off her then crawled in bed alongside her. His chest pounded against her arm and his breaths came in spurts.

Together they slowed their bodies back to normal while watching Gerrit find his release. The valet understood he was on display for the lord and lady of the manor and did his best to draw out his climax, finishing only when Helene turned to kiss her husband.

The next few days passed in a similar manner to her first magical day as Pierce’s student. He took her to new heights of pleasure, teaching her about her body’s needs and desires. But she was still somehow a virgin. Pierce was holding back from her, but why? He’d encouraged her to be her true self. Somehow she’d have to find a way to do the same for him. She’d have to take matters into her own hands if her husband didn’t show some flexibility on the matter.

Where was she? Pierce entered his dining room looking for his errant wife. She’d been missing nearly all day, and he had some wisdom to share in the form of a new sexual lesson. Truth be told, his balls ached from the effort to keep from taking her. They’d been finding release every chance they got, but it was not the same as burying himself into her warm wetness.

Christ, how did he end up in this ridiculous situation, unable to fuck his wife? He replayed the image of last night’s lesson. Helene on her knees in front of him, his cock in her hot greedy mouth, teaching her exactly how he liked it, and her sucking it all in. She was the best lover he’d ever had, and they still hadn’t consummated the relationship.

Oh, he’d wanted to, but she’d changed everything when she’d begged him to “
make the marriage real.”
At that moment, he knew if he gave in, she’d take everything from him. His secrets, his decadent lifestyle, and scariest of all, his heart. And then she’d probably die in childbirth abandoning him. And so he’d been holding out. Though it hurt. A hell of a lot, both physically and emotionally.

When the hell had he become this sensitive? It was her doing; she was turning him into a eunuch. Part of him was enticed by all she offered. It’d be so easy. Take her and everything she had to give. Tempting. So tempting.

Helene greeted him from the table as he barged into the dining room, calling for her.

“Where have you been?” he asked, ignoring the way his heart pounded at her calm, regal appearance at the table.

“Oh, doing this and that,” she said. “Come sit. Eat.”

She patted the place setting next to her where soup steamed up from a bowl. He eyed her curiously? What game was she playing at? Acting all wifely. He didn’t need or want a woman fussing over him, ordering his favorite meals from Cook. But she looked at him with such hope in her eyes. Hell, he’d appease her this one time.

A few spoonfuls into the soup, his head began to swim. Helene’s lovely face wavered in front of him. “There’s some—” And then he blacked out.

A while later he awoke in his bed.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” His guilty-as-hell wife repeated his words of their marriage day from his chair, only this time he lay naked and tied up in his bed. He was going to kill her. Slowly.

“Untie me.” He tugged on the cravats holding him, but they held fast. Who were her accomplices? There was no way she could’ve carried him upstairs, stripped and trussed him alone.

“Gerrit, you’re sacked,” he bellowed, struggling in earnest now.

“Hush,” Helene said in a chiding tone. “Stop thrashing about and accept it. I will untie you when you give me what I want?”

“And what is that? Freedom? A divorce?”

A hurt look passed over her face, but she shook it off with a deep breath. “No, you idiot. I want
you
.” She eyed his nude form with interest glowing in her eyes.

His traitorous cock hardened. “What makes you think I want you? You’ve been fun to play with for these last weeks, but I’m getting bored. I want to go back to London.” He closed his eyes against seeing her reaction to his harsh words. Protection at all cost. He couldn’t love her.
Wouldn’t
love her.

“Liar.” Her voice trembled but she stood her ground, supremely confident she saw the truth. The truth he wouldn’t even let himself see.

“You can keep running from me, keep playing these games. But I know the truth.” She advanced on the bed, untying her wrap as she came closer.

She was a goddess. An all-knowing, all-powerful woman who threatened him on every level. And he loved her. Her body, her wit and most of all her bravery. She had to leave. Now, before he broke.

But, oh hell, she climbed naked onto the mattress and straddled him. His hips thrust, seeking entrance, but she denied him.

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head and smiling. “No more running. No more hiding. Just you and me. Man and wife.” She leaned down to brush her lips across his.

His blood heated and boiled with the need to rip free, roll her over and plunge into her. But she was not done with her little games. She took his cock in hand and stroked once. Hard.

He moaned, but refused to beg. What did she want of him?

“I am going to take what is rightfully mine, but only after you submit.” She stroked him again.”

So good. He was so close. Five strokes more and he’d finish. Three strokes max. “Submit? What do you want from me? Promises? Fine. I’ll give up the whores. They’re not as talented as you anyway. Society? Do you want to host a ball? I’ll throw you the fanciest one…”

She cut him off with a kiss. “No, that wasn’t what I was seeking.”

What then? He thought he knew and took a deep breath. “Love? Do you want me to admit I love you? Fine. I love you. All right? Now can we get on with the hand strokes?” His hips lifted to nudge his cock in her hand.

Shock surfaced on her face and heat infused him at her expression. Hell, had he got it wrong then? Had he just made a fool of himself? He could play it off, though. It was common knowledge he’d lie, cheat and steal to gain sexual pleasure. Surely she didn’t believe him.

Oh, but she did. The shock faded from her face and her eyes grew glassy, tear-filled. “I…I…” Her hand dropped off his cock, and she wiped away a tear. “I never thought…when we married…I was so angry and scared.”

He made an encouraging sound in the back of his throat.

“But then I got to know you, and…”

And love you. Tell me you love me, too.
Pierce held his breath hoping she’d admit it, but girding himself to be denied.

“…I love you, too,” she admitted on a sob. “I just never dreamed it would be you.” Her voice rose on the “you,” as if he were unworthy of her love. And perhaps he was, but now she’d admitted it, he was never letting her go.

“Untie me, so I can make love to you properly.”

“I can’t,” she sniffed.

“Why the hell not? I gave you what you wanted. Now let’s consummate the marriage.” If she didn’t untie him in six seconds, he’d take back his love and go on a whoring spree the likes of which the Madams of London had never seen.

“I didn’t ask for your love, but it was the best gift I’ve ever received.” She smiled at him, and he knew he’d never sleep with another whore again. Not unless Helene was with him. “When we married you made me tell you about my past. Now I want to know yours. Why turn your back on society? Why be an outcast?”

This was love then. Baring his soul, sharing the secrets he’d vowed never to tell another person. He looked at his wife for a long minute. Trust and love shone down on him. He could do this. Reciprocate the trust. He’d been betrayed before and had lived. He’d survive again.

“I never chose to be an outcast,” he said. “It was thrust upon me.”

“Why? How?” She went to work on the knots at his wrists, freeing him.

He shook out his arms and took a breath. “My father never wanted a wife, but his parents made him marry. They feared for his mortal soul.”

“A bigger rake than you then?”

He snorted. “He spent his whole life hopping from bed to bed. But he did marry and dumped his wife and child at his estate. Here.”

“And then.”

This was the bad part, the part he hated remembering. “And then Mother died. She was a good woman. She protected me from knowing about my father. When she died, I had to go live with him in London. He didn’t know what to do with me. Thought it’d be a laugh to treat me as a friend. Take me along with him everywhere. To the hunting parties and the brothels…” His voice trailed off remembering those first few weeks as a young boy thrust into a new life and missing his mother.

“How old were you?”

“I was eleven. My first night in his house he brought me to a brothel. Paid a woman to initiate me into sex. And then he called me his best buddy.” He’d been lost as a kid, just looking for his father’s love. Going along with the decadent lifestyle had seemed the best way to get Father’s attention. “I could barely get a proper erection, I was so young.”

A soft hand caressed his thigh, and he looked down to realize he was squeezing Helene’s other hand tightly. He slackened his grip and gave a shrug. “It was long ago, and I’m all grown-up now.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t make the memories less painful. He could’ve hired a proper governess to watch you, as my father did when my mother died. It was a lonely life, but I have no scars to show for it. No visible ones at least.”

He pulled his naked wife up onto his lap and nuzzled into her silky hair. “No proper governess would’ve stepped foot into our house. He tried sending me to school, but by then the damage was done. I liked my father’s attention, and his lifestyle appealed. At least in the short term.”

“And now?” she asked, turning to encircle his neck with her arms. If only her thighs parted, life would be damn near perfect.

“It has lost some of its luster,” he admitted. “Sleeping with the same beautiful, sensuous woman nightly holds more attraction now.”

“Excellent answer.” She spread her thighs to wrap them around his hips, rubbing her wet sheath against his belly.

In that moment he realized his student had become the teacher, and he ached to submit to her lessons. “Let’s consummate the marriage. I want to make love to my wife.” The words were unfamiliar.
Make love
. But in this case it was true, and he’d never been more aroused.

They began with a gentle kiss, but tongues tangled and quickly heated. Helene tightened her thighs on his waist and he pressed up against her, bracing his feet flat on the mattress to angle his cock near her warmth. God, he wanted in her and it was hard to remember she was technically a virgin because of her skill. He’d taught her well. Too well.

“Lie back, darling,” he said, helping her. He lowered his mouth to her and guided her hands to spread her lips apart. She was beautiful, all pink, swollen and delicious. She held to his wants for a few breathless moments then sat up.

“No. This isn’t how I wanted it. I tied
you
up. I want to be in control.” She pushed at his chest till he fell back against the pillows and she climbed back onto his thighs.