Owning Arabella (7 page)

Chapter Twelve

 

Arabella felt something light and caressing flutter over her skin. Everywhere it touched was like the soft brush of feathers. She was so caught in the sensation of how it felt against her skin that she nearly forgot anything else. Then she realized that it barely covered her bottom and the material, if one could call it that was as light as air. No gown could ever be this short or light. That was when she'd questioned Darth in confusion. Still, she remembered to keep her eyes closed. Her next thought was that surely this was only an undergarment, of a sort, that her less than worldly ways knew anything about. That was until Darth said that she should look at the piece of clothing that he had gotten her.

"Darth, this is indecent!" she cried in dismay. "Surely this cannot be the clothing you have brought me. This can't be the only piece!" She looked in disbelief to Darth, and saw that he was sprawled in the wing chair, bare-chested with his long legs crossed at the ankle in front of him. The firelight played devilishly across his face, with his manner bordering on insolent.

"It is the clothing, Arabella. The only you will receive for now." He would not tell Arabella of the other clothes, unless necessity demanded it, and the only necessity he could envision for quite some time was that he wanted to take her riding. He'd known from his first intention that Arabella would be angry, yet he was totally unprepared for what happened next.

Arabella's anger exploded. "You lied to me!" she cried.

Arabella was so swiftly consumed with fury that she could barely see clearly. Only she knew in which direction the culprit lay and she rushed at Darth like an avenging angel with her hair flying and her fingers curled. "You lying, vile, cheating. Cheating-!" And then Arabella thought of it. "Bastard!" It was a word that she'd heard the sailors aboard the ship use and it sounded like a fine word to describe, Darth. Although she was not entirely certain what it meant, it sounded superb in her fury. So she shouted it again, just as she balled her fist on her headlong journey to reach Darth. Whereby, she punched him squarely in his stomach. Immediately, she heard the air leave his lungs and she felt victorious satisfaction as the pain of her punch exploded into her hand.

"It is what you deserve, you screaming hellion!" he bellowed. He released Arabella's wrists in his agitation and continued to spank her soundly. Hitting her hands at times as she tried unsuccessfully to cover her bare and squirming buttocks, while he just shoved her hands out of his way and smacked her naked ass cheeks again. Woof's of air expelled from her with each smack of his palm and he noticed finally that her supple buttocks were marked red. He stopped abruptly, realizing he was breathing heavily.

"Are you finished, you lying brute?" Arabella's voice was choked with tears and filled with aversion.

"You will not speak to me that way, Arabella," he threatened, then he raised his hand and she flinched.

"No, Darth, please!" Her hands returned, palms upward, trying to cover her naked buttocks. He stopped his hand's motion and she squirmed over his thighs. He leaned back in the chair, holding her over his lap.

"You will understand, Arabella, I am now your master in all things," he finally said, then he stood, effectively dumping her onto the floor at his feet, as he merely stepped over her to stalk away.

Arabella tore at the hated garment Darth had given her, pulling it off her body as she tried to stop her tears. She cast a wary glance at Darth, who had his back to her, facing the fire. She could see the angry tension bunched in the muscles of his bare back. He stood with his legs splayed straight and his fists curled at his hips. Even as she felt the lingering burn on her buttocks she knew that Darth had a right to be angry. A powerful man, such as he was, would never tolerate such an attack, and she was even appalled that she'd physically tried to harm him. It did matter that he had lied to her! Only not so much that she should have hit him, or pulled out his hair. Darth's entire structure exuded raw masculine power, tightly held at bay, and she found herself grateful that a spanking was all she'd gotten for her crime. She prayed it was all.

Her hand shook as she dared to reach for the shirt she'd worn earlier, which was tossed on the chair she now hugged against. Her fingers shook badly as they touched the silk material, she did not want to be spanked again. Her buttocks burned fiercely as she fought back her tears. To be spanked like an errant child, pulled over a man's lap and spanked. It was horrible, embarrassing, and humbling. She hugged the shirt in front of her, unable to find the nerve to put it on. She should not have gotten so angry. She never realized that she could be so fierce and she began to shake again just thinking about it. It seemed that she was no longer in control of her emotions. They were raging out of control from one extreme to the other. And now she did not have any clothes. How was she ever going to help Nicholas?

"Arabella, come here."

"No, Darth, please."

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

Arabella tensed feeling Darth lift her off the floor from where she huddled. He lifted her as if she weighed no more than a child, carrying her in his arms to the bed. There was nothing she could do or say, if she could, so she remained silent as he laid her on the feather mattress. Yet he did not lay her on her back, instead he turned her onto her stomach. Alarm pierced her despair. Would he rape her now? She buried her head in the feather mattress, terribly afraid that she had pushed Darth over the edge and now he intended to rape her.

"Let me see your hand, little dove."

Before Arabella could comply, and she was not sure she would have, Darth took hold of the hand that she'd used to punch him, as she kept her face hidden on the mattress. He was very gentle and she tried not to wince.

"You have hurt yourself with this foolishness," he proclaimed, and then he began to kiss her knuckles.

"It was not foolishness," she mumbled into the mattress. "You lied to me."

"I will admit that I stretched the assumption, Arabella, but I did not lie, and I will have you as I want you. You need to understand this. However, little dove, I do not enjoy having to spank you and I hope that I will not have to do it again."

Suddenly, Arabella's body jerked on the bed, feeling Darth's warm lips pressed to the flesh of her buttocks. "Darth, no," she gasped.

"Nay, Arabella, you will lay still. You are mine now and you must understand this," he rasped. Then Darth's wet tongue followed where his lips had been, while his wide hand pressed into the small of her back, holding her down on the bed. Darth's tongue was warm and insistent over her shivering buttocks. To her intense mortification a slow pleasurable flush spread through her entire body as Darth licked over every curve of her naked bottom intimately. It made her undulate and roll her buttocks embarrassingly, and then she gasped as his tongue dipped into the crease.

"Darth," she cried, knowing in that moment that she would do anything he desired . . . anything!

She was a willing consort now, an equal partner with passionate thrilling whimpers, quivering thighs, and her knees spreading wider upon the mattress. He ravished that willingness with greed, devouring her sweet tender pussy with masculine possessiveness. Each time he licked his tongue into her cunt, she gasped excitedly and raised her ass to him as he knelt crouched behind her. Her anus was smooth and rosy-colored and he made her cry out with passion, with each lap of his tongue over it, to return then to her vagina with stiff thrusts.

"Darth," she squealed. "Darth!"

Then he fucked her with his tongue, grabbing her cushy hips to pump them back and forth, piercing his tongue inside her with each pull.

Slowly, he let her hips lower to the mattress with her legs sprawled on either side of him as he knelt between her knees. He wiped his mouth with an arrogant twist of mind. He felt cocky and roguish as he picked up the blindfold and bent over Arabella's buttocks. She was startled when he slipped the blindfold over her eyes, as he whispered, "All day and all night, little dove, remember?"

She was complacent and languid as he urged her onto her back. Then while he still knelt between her thighs, he reached down and undid the ties on his breeches, until his stiffened cock fell free, thrusting outward in a straight line. At the same time he reached for Arabella's hand, lifting it to his cock. He guided her fingers to the shaft, her palm to the base. She gasped at the touch. He closed her hand around the thickness, holding her touch there. With the pressure of his hand over her hand squeezing his cock, he could feel the rapid beating of his pulse in the base.

"Stroke me," he rasped, willing Arabella in this one moment to be a voluntary participant of his lust. Insanely afraid that she would not. How he could expect it of her, was his insanity, and how he could need it so desperately from her was his doom.

"You are so strong," she whispered. Stunning him with a small caress of her own volition beneath his hand, even as he groaned involuntarily within the tumultuous feel of it. To have a woman holding his cock was a greedy male prize and Darth lifted his hand from Arabella's as prayers of longing whispered in his mind. Yet, she stunned him again, and then humbled him, by taking a firmer grip with her slender fingers around his throbbing bulky width.

"Let me see you," she whispered, reaching for the blindfold. "I want to see you," she murmured, holding him enslaved against his will with her hand around his aroused cock. How could he think clearly? How could she want to see him? How could he stop her? But her hand was already there, and he did not stop her. Wanting so fiercely to believe.

Arabella's normally golden eyes glowed amber with her languid passion as she lifted the blindfold and looked up at him. She did not look at his cock held so warmly in her hand, but at his marred face. And Darth found within her golden-amber irises not one hint of distaste for the face that she gazed at so closely. It was then and only then that she stroked his cock, turning her gaze down to it.

Instantly he saw the hunger and desire lighting her eyes and the thrill of that insight lifted his chest sharply. She desired him . . . she wanted his cock, even though he had forced his sexuality onto her so thoroughly. Beneath his gaze her nipples beaded tight and her hips shifted restlessly as her palm and fingers tested his length with a solid sure stroke that brought a groan from his lips. She'd learned her lessons well from watching his depravity earlier and now wonderfully she used it against him.

The ardent groan that spilled from Darth's lips thrilled Arabella's femininity thoroughly. She finally had powerful control over her dark Earl, and she feasted on it. She had long since admitted to herself that she wanted Darth completely. She wanted anything and everything that he could do to her and that they could do together. Never in her life had she felt as alive as when she was with him. He bullied her and he coerced her, yet it was always ultimately for her pleasure. What man could do the things to a woman as Darth had done to her and not care?

Yet at this precise moment she'd not thoughts for any of it, but the tempting male organ in her hand. Its fleshy red coloring belayed its strength and power. This was not a piece of pliable flesh. It was sturdy and vigorous. So long. So thick. Her sex ached deeply as the circle of her hand pulled and pressed around its stoutness. Each draw she stroked along the wide shaft brought the head upward and the crease in its center mesmerized her. Darth groaned harshly as his angular hips moved with her pumping hand. Then small bits of creamy substance oozed from the tender slit, making her gasp as her sex began to ache unbearably. That yearning sensation deep inside her was the torment building between her thighs. That clutching torment that had a master and salvation now. She held part of that master in her hand, worshiping it and loving it.

Darth's lean belly drew inward, outlining powerful ridges of sinew, as his muscular chest expanded and his hands curled into fists at his sides. The sight of his beautiful masculine strength undulating with the stroking of her hand delighted her senses beyond compare. Then she knew where the torment was drawing her. She knew where her free hand and tongue craved to be. The crease drew her tongue and Darth's male sacks drew her hand.

When he finally unclenched his eyelids, his gaze was arrested by the sight and feel of Arabella lavishly licking her tongue around the head of his cock. This had to be every man's sweeping erotic fantasy and the fact that Arabella laved her tongue on his cock, he with his scarred and hapless visage, staggered him. In addition to the wonderfully powerful pleasure she reaped over him, making him groan outrageously, as her pretty blush lips tested the shape of the bulbous head.

He was confident that he'd never felt anything as resplendent as he tested Arabella's eager mouth in response with a return nudge. Her wet gossamer lips parted further as the head of his cock intruded into her mouth and her tongue slid down the long ridge along the underside of his cock. His groan was absurd and robust, as his fingers clenched into the thick strands of her hair.

He wanted Arabella to take it, he demanded that she take it. It was cruel, it was untrustworthy, yet he could not stop even for Arabella's innocence. And then it was too late. His hot seed filled her mouth. He would forever wonder what might have transpired next because of that moment.