Savage Nights (The Savage Trilogy #2) (30 page)

No, there was something else: the rustle of paper, the scrape of chalk across it. He was drawing me like this. I’d inspired him.

I didn’t dare move, nor did I want to. My muscles ached and my nipples pinched, yet all that mattered was that this was how he wanted me.

I heard one sheet of paper tossed aside, the drawing finished one way or another. I heard him swear, biting off the words in frustration, and begin a fresh sheet and then another after that. I’d no idea how long I remained like this before him. Blindfolded, I couldn’t tell if the afternoon had become evening, though once I heard the scrape of a match, smelled the acrid flash, which meant he’d lit candles. For all I knew, it could have been midnight. Yet still I was the captive of his desire and his art, my body hanging on the edge of wanting.

At last unable to keep quiet, I let out a long, shuddering sigh. I heard him swear again and throw aside the paper, and then he was suddenly leaning over me. The hard muscle of his bare chest pressed into my back as he leaned over me, covering me, sweeping my hair aside so he could see my blindfolded face.

“Do you know how you torment me, Eve?” he rasped above my ear. “Day and night, you give me no peace. No matter how I challenge you, it’s never enough. How can I be your Master when you do this to me?”

“You … you are my Master,” I insisted. “You are!”

“Show me,” he growled.

Before I could answer he’d grabbed me by the hips and lifted me back to my knees. With my wrists still bound behind my back my face remained pressed to the sheet, the way he wished me to be. I whimpered with excitement, knowing how exposed I was to him now, and shifted my knees as far apart as I could to open myself further to him.

“Enough,” he ordered sharply, though enough of what, I didn’t know. It didn’t matter. That mastery, that command, excited me wildly.

He slapped one buttock and reflexively I jerked my head to one side. He gripped my hips again, opening my buttocks with his thumbs the way he’d open a piece of ripe fruit to be tasted. He held me that way, ready, and plunged his cock deep into me, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

He stretched me wide, enormous with need, and drove into me to bury himself. Once he was fully sheathed, he paused, breathing hard as he bent over me. His cock throbbed high inside me, and his balls, full and heavy, pressed against the outside of my quim. I arched my back to take him the last fraction deeper, and he groaned, his fingers tensing into the soft flesh of my hips and buttocks, holding me.

“Fuck me, Eve,” he ordered with a vicious desperation as he began to pump his cock into me. This
was
fucking, pure, primal, and stark, and each thrust rocked me so hard that I gasped with his complete possession. Bound as I was, I was helpless before his driving need, and it was like being taken by the night itself.

And it was glorious. As violent and demanding as this possession was, I never felt in danger. Instead I felt more a part of him than ever before, more truly his, because at that moment nothing in his world mattered more to him than me. Everything had narrowed to his possession of me, and my own feverish desire rose to match his.

I felt his cock lurch within me, and I rocked back and cried out with excitement, mindlessly pulling against the silk cords. His hands slid forward, tugging just enough on the chain to draw on my nipples, and I cried out again, desperate for release. He shuddered against me, his hands positioning me, and in response I felt myself begin to tighten around him.

He pounded into me mercilessly, mindlessly, and his shout when he came triggered my own orgasm, too. I thrashed beneath him and bucked with him, my head thrown back and even my fingers spread and trembling with the force of it.

Afterward he held me, both of us panting and exhausted and slick with sweat. He kissed the nape of my neck, another more tender mark of possession, and I felt weightless, as if I were suspended in his arms.

I was his, completely. I was his.

With a sigh he finally withdrew from me, sitting back on his heels, and without his support I slumped to my side, panting. Quickly he untied the silk cords around my ankles and wrists, massaging the places where they’d cut into my skin. He laid me onto my back and gently stretched my aching limbs. I wept, from the sensation of the blood rushing back to my hands and feet but also from the tenderness he was showing me.

I’d almost forgotten the nipple rings until he carefully removed them, too, and I gasped, my hands fluttering up to soothe my sore breasts. Gently he pushed my hands aside and licked each of my nipples in turn, his laving tongue the best balm imaginable.

At last he untied the blindfold, slowly pulling the silk band from my eyes and smoothing my hair back from my face. I blinked, wincing at the sudden brightness of the candles, and then smiled. Savage’s face was all I saw before me, his hair tousled and his eyes filled with raw emotion that cut straight to my heart.

“You’re mine,” he said softly, bending to kiss me. “All mine.”

I couldn’t agree more.

*   *   *

“Of course you must go to Court,” Savage said late the next morning. We were still in bed, a place I’d decided I’d rather stay than go to the Palace and be formally presented to the king. From the moment I’d decided to come to London, this day had been one I’d anticipated more than my own wedding day. A Court presentation was a significant milestone for anyone, but for an American widow like me the invitation from the Lord Chamberlain was an almost unimaginable honor.

Yet over the last few days that honor had paled and lost most of its allure for me. How could a complicated ritual like a presentation possibly compare to the time I spent here in Savage’s company, in his bed? As the days passed, each minute with him was becoming increasingly precious to me, especially lying curled here beside him.

“There will be so many other women—most of them younger than me, too—that I doubt anyone will miss me at all,” I reasoned, hoping he’d agree. “All I’ve heard is that there’s such a tremendous crush for a few seconds’ time before His Majesty and then it’s done. Surely no one will take notice if I send my regrets.”

Savage grunted, never a good sign.

“To begin with, there could be a hundred younger women there at the Palace today and not one of them would have your beauty or grace,” he said, tracing lazy circles over my bare shoulder. “Of course your absence would be noticed.”

“You’re flattering me,” I said unhappily. He was looking wickedly seductive, his jaw dark and unshaven and his silvery eyes heavy lidded, and the musky scent of our combined bodies clung to his skin. None of it made me want to leave him or his bed.

“I’m telling the truth,” he said, nibbling at my shoulder. “Besides, once you’ve accepted your invitation, the only excuse that’s accepted is death, and fortunately, you are very much alive. Believe me, His Majesty will be looking for you amidst the milk-faced girls and their mamas.”

“You’re flattering me again,” I said, pulling my shoulder away. “Please, Savage, don’t make me go.”

“I’m afraid you have no choice,” he said, leaning on his bent arm to look at me. “You go off with your hired marchioness, make your curtsey at the Palace, and I’ll be waiting for you at the reception afterward, where I promise you I’ll have an excellent—most excellent—reward for us both.”

I sighed again, tipping my head to one side to look up at him from beneath my lashes. “Why can’t we skip the parts about the marchioness and presentation and the Palace, and have the reward here instead?”

He smiled indulgently. “Do not tempt me, Eve,” he said, tracing his fingers over my lips. “This is for the best. You’ve come all the way from New York to secure your place in Society here in London. I’m not about to stand in your way, as much as I might wish to. You need to make alliances of your own, without me.”

He rolled to one side, away from me, and left the bed. Most times I’d enjoy the sight of him walking naked across the room, the play of the powerful muscles of his back and buttocks. But now I could think of nothing beyond what he’d just said, and I sat upright in the rumpled bed.

“Without you?” I asked uneasily. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s not supposed to ‘mean’ anything,” he said, an unmistakable touch of irritation in his voice as he shrugged into his dressing gown. “I cannot be everything to you, just as you cannot be everything to me. You know that.”

“I do,” I said softly, understanding now. We’d two more days together. That was all. Just two more days.

“Your maid is probably here already to help you dress,” he continued, “and I’ve also arranged for a hairdresser familiar with Court attire to help her prepare you. You don’t want to lose your plumes before the queen.”

“No,” I said, reaching for my own robe—or, rather, the Chinese silk robe of his that I’d worn while I was here. In two days I’d be leaving that behind, too. “Thank you for thinking of that for me.”

“One more thing.” He scooped something from the table into his hand before he joined me again by the bed. “Beneath all your finery, I want you to wear these.”

He held his hand out to me, and in his open palm were the nipple rings and chain that I’d worn last night. I hadn’t seen them before, of course, having been blindfolded, but I recognized them from his description: gold bands studded with diamonds. They looked like miniature wedding rings, except for the little hinged clips that tightened them into place.

“You wish me to wear these beneath my Court gown?” I asked. Remembering how they’d felt made me blush furiously and also spurred the first twinges of excitement.

“It’s not a wish, Eve,” he said with that sardonic smile that meant he expected to be obeyed. “It’s an order. Consider it the first of the day’s events.”

“Yes, Master,” I murmured. I looked down at the jewels in his palm, surprisingly delicate for what they’d done to me. They must have been costly for erotic playthings and had obviously been bespoke from some skilled and very discreet jeweler. The chain with the diamond drop slipped swinging from my fingers, and the dangling stone danced in the light. Last night Savage had likened it to several things, but today to me it could only be a melancholy teardrop.

“I’ll put them on you now, before you go to your maid,” he said. “Open your robe, and prepare yourself. The rings won’t fit unless your nipples are erect.”

I nodded, pulling the front of the robe open so that my breasts were bare. I cupped my breasts in my hands and lightly pinched my nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. My nipples were still sensitive, a little raw, from wearing the rings last night, and I couldn’t help but wince a bit at my own touch.

Yet I knew how much he liked seeing me pleasure myself, and I’d lost all of the shyness I’d once had about doing it. Now it excited me to watch him watching me. His heavy-lidded gaze was intent on my hands on my breasts, framed by the brightly colored silk, and I teased my nipples as much for his pleasure as for my own, flaring my fingers across my flesh. We fed upon each other’s excitement that way, and my breath quickened as my nipples puckered and stiffened. His breathing had changed, too, and I glanced down at the front of his robe, already knowing his cock would be tenting the silk above it.

“That’s enough,” he said roughly. He brushed my hands away and quickly clipped the rings to my now-stiff nipples. Again, I gasped at the pressure of the gold bands surrounding them. The pinch was subtle, more of a tight squeeze, with the pressure accentuated by the tug of the weighted chain.

He led me to the mirror. He grabbed my long hair in his hand and twisted it over my head to uncover my neck and shoulders.

“Look at yourself,” he said. “See and understand how beautiful—and desirable—you are to me.”

I didn’t just look at my reflection. I stared. Framed by the open robe, my skin glowed like ivory. Fascinated, I now could see how the rings looked in place. The tips of my nipples were as red as berries, and their arousal was enhanced by the stones around them. I raised my chin a fraction, arching my back to make the chain swing and the stones sparkle, and my breasts swayed like ripe, jeweled fruit. I looked like a pagan goddess, adorned and worshiped.

No, it wasn’t just what I appeared. With Savage that’s what I’d
become,
and I reveled in it.

I shook my hair free of his grasp and turned around to face him, making a shimmering offering of myself to him. He captured my jaw with one hand and kissed me deeply, possessively, his mouth grinding over mine as his other hand thrust into my robe and over my hip to caress my buttock. I melted against him, certain he’d sweep me back to the bed and that my presentation at Court would be forgotten.

I was wrong.

With a groan he pulled back and away from me. The effort it took was clear, especially in the way his gaze remained on my breasts, yet from the way he crossed his arms over his chest I knew he wouldn’t change his mind.

“Go dress now, Eve,” he ordered. “Even as you bow before the king, you’ll feel those rings, and remember you’re mine.”

“I never forget, Master,” I said softly, wishing it weren’t quite so painfully true.

“I’m glad.” He smiled crookedly, and that alone was enough to make me melt inside. “So long as you remember, you’ll be rewarded later tonight.”

Reluctantly I left him, tying my robe closed before I went across the hall to the room where I’d dress. As he’d said, Hamlin was waiting for me, along with another maid to assist her, and the special hairdresser. All the various pieces of my Court attire—petticoats, lingerie, corset, stockings, shoes, gloves, plumes, and veil for my hair, feather fan, cloak, handkerchief, and of course my dress and train—were arranged in waiting around the room. Everything was of the finest quality, exquisitely and extravagantly embroidered, beaded, and lace trimmed, and all purchased for this day alone. Most likely I’d never wear any of it again, either.

Also on the bed were the jewels I’d wear, still carefully arranged in their plush-lined cases. There was a choker of diamonds and a slightly longer necklace, also of diamonds, to go beneath that, both made for me for this day by the Maison Cartier. Beside the necklaces was the drum-shaped box that held my diamond tiara, created by Mr. Tiffany from stones my father had purchased long ago.