Surrender to a Wicked Spy (17 page)

He slid an arm beneath her to raise her breasts high—his reward for his restraint. He took one softened tip deep into his mouth, the way she liked. Her answering gasp fueled his lust, but he had to hold back. It was up to him to bring her along patiently. If this wild plan was to work, he must keep his distance, within and without.

He held the tip of the rod poised just at the top of her slit, not quite touching her sensitive button. As he sucked and teased first one nipple, then the other, she began to writhe, unconsciously straining her pelvis upward against the blunt tip of the rod.

He let the rod slip down a bit, letting the length ride slowly over her little bump, following her crease down like a guide. He let the rod dip into her dampness, using her own desire to wet the ivory, making it slip most sensuously against her.

There was a way to use the carvings, and he had an inkling of how. As she began to feel the effects of the carvings sliding fluidly over her swelling clitoris, her breath began to quicken sharply, tiny cries reflecting the rise and fall of smooth ivory on her sensitivity.

He rotated the rod, watching her face. "Do you like this side?" He twisted it again. "Or this?"

Finally, he turned the rod the way a man's cock would press if he lay between those sweet thighs—soon, by God, someday soon!—and slid it smoothly up and down.

She went mad in his embrace.

Olivia reached out, grasping for balance against the wild sensations radiating from her center. In response to her reaction, the rod slid more quickly. Up and down, again and again, the bumps and lines in the ivory caressing and kneading her nub into violent ecstasy.

Ascend and descend, on and on, sweet, sharp pleasure, until the now-familiar bubble of bliss began to grow within her. It swelled, expanding sharply. The rod rose and fell. Fighting the dizziness, she opened her eyes a slit to see Dane watching her, power and satisfaction on his face.

I am yours
. She was owned and cherished and his. She could fly free within the protective circle of his hold. He wouldn't let her fall.

He bent to take her nipple in his mouth again. That was all she needed.

The bubble burst in a thousand shimmering threads, sending white-hot shivering ecstasy radiating through her. As she floated down from the heights, her body still throbbing, she felt Dane change the angle of the rod.

Her eyes flew open and locked with his. He gazed down at her, his expression somber. "This should be me," he whispered.

She raised her arms to wrap about his neck. "It is you," she whispered back. "It is ever you."

He bent to kiss her softly, possessively, as he slowly pressed the rod within her.

Olivia closed her eyes and waited for the pain. Mother had made it very clear that there would be pain.

The rod was warm and slick and hard. The bulbous head pressed her open, the length sliding in behind to fill her. She felt a pressure. Dane stopped at her tiny protest.

"I think that is your maidenhead, sweeting," he said softly. "Once broken, it will bother you no more."

She blinked up at him. "I'm ready," she said, tensing her body in expectation.

Dane smiled at her. "I think I'll kiss you more, first." He bent to kiss her, a long, sweet wet kiss that made Olivia sigh with delight. She relaxed, going soft and pliant in his hold.

He thrust the rod deep.

She cried out, clutching at him, ready for the agony to overtake her. There was only a sharp sting, like the pricking of a finger.

She relaxed again, letting out a breath of relief. Dane slowly pressed the rod deeper, then smoothly withdrew it. "Yes?"

"Yes," she breathed. He continued the motion, once more twisting the rod until he found the best aspect. The carvings slid in and out, pressing here, drawing there, exciting small tugs of pleasure deep within her. "Oh!"

Dane paused the motion. "More?" he teased.

She clung to him. "Oh yes,
please
."

He took his time, first slowly, until she writhed against him. Then carefully faster, letting her wetness ease his speed. She bucked, gasping, helpless in her pleasure.

He found he enjoyed watching her take her pleasure. Sometime he might have her do it herself as he looked on. Let her perform for him… quivering at her own hand… in the bath…

Lecher
. He was most base, he decided. She was already giving him such a gift, bearing this outrageous invasion for him. The fact that he could probably convince her to do it notwithstanding, there was a line he could not pass, a level of sexual debauchery he could not ask of her—

"
Oh yes
!" she cried. "Oh, please,
more
."

Or perhaps he could.

He watched in wonder as she arched her back and tossed her fair hair on the pillows, her lips open as she gasped her pleasure, her breasts quivering with the tension in her body. He threw his thigh across her nearest leg to hold her still and drove the rod in deeply a final time, sure it would drive her over the edge.

It did.

She bucked wildly in his hold. Her soft body writhed and tortured his imprisoned erection, making him shake as well. She called his name out loud, her broken cries husky and abandoned.

He nearly lost his own control, nearly spilled himself right there like a randy lad. If she kept that up—

She went limp, her breath leaving her in a wordless sigh. He withdrew the rod and set it aside. Thankfully, he'd held his seed—or perhaps he wasn't all that thankful. His tormented body ached for release, any release. He wanted to undo his trousers and have her put her hands on him, to stroke him as she had the night before, with her soft hands directly on his sensitized flesh.

He could not do it. He could not reveal himself to her in all his abnormality. He still did not trust her nerve, it seemed.

Memory assaulted him.
Good God! Get that 'orrid thing away from me
! He didn't know what was worse, honest revulsion or horrified fascination. His aching cock subsided at the memory. He'd experienced both and he wasn't willing to go through it again. There was time.

They had the rest of their lives, he and Olivia.

He found that thought very comforting. As he pulled her soft body close and drowsily tucked her head beneath his chin, it never occurred to him to worry about how comforting the thought was.

«
^
»

Dane rolled over, sleepily reaching for his bride.

She wasn't there.

He started and sat up, blinking about him. He was disoriented at finding himself on the floor until he remembered it was his idea.

Olivia sat tailor-fashion nearby, the reddish glow of the coals on her skin, still clad in nothing but her stockings and garters. She held another of the rods in her hands, peering closely at the pictorial carvings. She turned her head and smiled as he sat up.

"Did you rest well, darling?" She went on all fours and crawled to him. What a sight! His cock shifted at the way her heavy breasts hung and the way her pert rear beckoned. She came close and collapsed into his lap, nuzzling his neck with her forehead. "I feel rather astonishing," she purred.

"You look rather astonishing," he gasped. "I thought you would be in pain."

"So did I." She shrugged. "Well, that was a great deal of fanfare for nothing. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

He drew his brows together. "It didn't hurt?"

She shook her head. "Only a bit. Wasn't it supposed to be much worse?"

He blinked. "Ah… to be truthful, my lady, we are both operating on secondhand information here. I have never taken anyone's virginity before."

She tilted her head back and smiled at him. "I shouldn't think well of you if you had." She held
up the second rod. "As a matter of fact, I felt quite 'comfortable' with the first one." She gave him a demurely naughty smile. "And you know what that means."

He blinked. "Again? Are you sure?"

She nodded with certainty. "I realized something, you see. I am not a small woman. My mother has often pointed this out to me. It seems at last that I have found a benefit to being oversized and awkward—"

"You are nothing of the sort!" Dane was surprised that she could even think such a thing. "You are tall and stately, with the figure of a goddess. I should not wish you to be a small woman." He frowned. "I always feel as though I'm going to crush them."

Olivia's lips quirked. "I have sometimes felt the same way."

Dane tilted her chin up with one finger. "You are perfect for me, just as you are."

She swallowed and blinked at that, and then her eyes took on that grateful gaze again. This time Dane didn't mind so much at all.

She cleared her throat. "As I was saying," she continued huskily. "I am not a small woman. Therefore, it only makes sense that I would… ah,
graduate
sooner than someone more petite."

He narrowed his eyes. "Or can it be that you want another such climax?"

She lazily slid her hand into his hair and pulled him down for a hot, wet kiss. "Why, my Lord Greenleigh," she murmured against his mouth. "What a naughty thing to say."

He pulled her back down onto the cushions, chuckling deeply. "I fear I've created a monster."

She rolled her naked body sensually on top of his. "Absolutely." She growled playfully. "It's all your fault. Now you must pay. I want more."

He flipped her over and, taking the second rod from her, pinned her roving hands above her head. "As my lady commands," he said, and proceeded to give her just that.

The next morning, Olivia did not have time to seek out Dane. In fact, she learned that he'd breakfasted early and left to take care of a few things before they all departed for Scotland tomorrow.

It was packing day. The house was in a flurry, servants rushing this way and that, with a much more cheerful Mrs. Huff directing the traffic.

Olivia glanced a question at Petty, who nodded back with a sly smile. Olivia's cure for joint ache had worked its magic, it seemed.

She and Petty spent most of the morning in Olivia's bedchamber, packing up the gowns and possessions that had only been unpacked five days ago.

Had it truly only been five days? Five days since she'd waited in this room, not knowing what to expect from the stranger she'd married?

She held the green gown up to inspect it for damage but then only dreamily clutched it to her bosom as she recalled how Dane had stripped it from her last night.

Goodness, what a night!

The second rod had been an entirely different matter. She'd been fortunate to have a man like Dane, who had labored over her for what seemed hours of pleasure, purely to ensure her readiness. She sighed deeply, remembering the way he'd held her tightly when she'd climaxed again. She closed her eyes, recalling how he'd whispered that she was beautiful and amazing and strong as she'd ridden the falling pleasure to come back to herself in his arms.

It had been a bit disappointing to wake in her wide bed without him this morning, but she supposed that was how marriage was conducted. After all, her parents didn't share a bed. Lord and Lady Cheltenham rarely shared the breakfast table if they could help it.

Of course, tomorrow Olivia and Dane would be traveling together. Surely they would share a room when they stopped at an inn tomorrow night. Olivia smiled dreamily at the thought. She must be sure to order a bath first thing when they arrived. It would be like a little honeymoon for them, for they'd had to pass on the traditional month together.

Someone cleared her throat. Olivia opened her eyes to see Petty standing there with an I-know-what-you're-thinking-about glint in her eye. The maid held out her hands.

Olivia looked down to see that she was crushing the green gown to her bosom, creasing the already-abused silk. She shrugged sheepishly and handed it to Petty. "His lordship thought it was a bit tight in the bosom," she told the maid.

Petty sniffed. "I thought it looked right fine, but what do I know about ladies' gowns and such? Nothing at all, that's what."

Olivia ignored Petty's irony and forced herself to focus on her tasks. Abruptly she realized there was a very serious problem with her wardrobe.

"Petty! What am I to wear to the Hunt Ball? Mother ordered a ball gown for my trousseau, but it hasn't come yet—"

Petty pulled a heavy card dress box from beneath the bed. "It came yesterday evening, my lady, but I didn't have the chance to tell you." She bent her sour gaze on Olivia. "What with you two lockin' the door and all."

"Petty, you are insubordinate!" Olivia hugged the astonished maid. "But I forgive you! Let's try it on, shall we?"

When Petty bent to undo the string ties on the box, Olivia's enthusiasm began to fade. Mother had chosen this gown as well. If Olivia recalled correctly, it was a flounced blue satin with a bell skirt, which Mother was convinced was on its way back in. The style made buxom Olivia look like a flour sack tied in the middle.

"Oh dear." She had to wear it. She had nothing else. At the very least, it would be grand. If awful.

"Oh, my lady!" Petty's breathy, unqualified approval made Olivia open her eyes. "You'll look a sight in this!"

From the maid's hands hung a sleek column of sky blue silk, falling from a low-cut Empire bodice that went to perfect tiny cap sleeves at the shoulders.

Olivia gasped, her hand at her mouth. It was perfection. It was divine. It was nothing her mother ever would have ordered for her.

"I am going to find that modiste and kiss her silly," Olivia vowed.

Petty, who knew the difference between Lady Cheltenham's taste and good taste, nodded emphatically. "That one knew what side her bread was buttered on. Better to make a wealthy viscountess look fine than please a poor countess."

Moments later, Olivia turned toward the mirror. Oh my. "Petty, I don't look fine."

Petty shook her head. "No, my lady, you don't."

Olivia grinned down at Petty. "I'm going to boggle his mind!"

Petty grinned back. "Himself isn't going to know what hit him."

Then Petty's smile retreated and she looked away, busying herself with checking the gown's hem. Olivia sighed, but what could she say to the girl? Dane was never going to be hers, it was a ridiculous fantasy, but hearing that from Olivia would only cut deeper.