Wolfsgate (35 page)

He sighed and pulled out of her gently, rolling back onto the bed.

“I don’t believe this course of revenge is worth the price for all of us, nor is it worthy of you.” She turned on her side to face him.

He didn’t answer. He only took her hand in his and squeezed it.

“She’s still the pirate treasure you and William used to fight over, isn’t she?” Justine asked.

As young boys, Brandon, William and Andrew often pretended to be menacing pirates on the high seas who would take Amanda, Annie and Justine prisoner from their make-believe island fort—a flat moss-covered boulder at the creek they could all stand on at once. Brandon and William would end up fighting over whose prisoner Amanda was, and more than once Andrew, Justine, and Annie would get bored and wander off to play somewhere else.

“No such treasure,” Brandon murmured. “She’s only a convenient means to an end. My pursuing her is only about what I can achieve with William.”

“You’ve won her, and he’s received your message. What will you do with your spoils of war, Captain?”

“Make her walk the plank.” He chuckled as he took her in his arms. She rested her head on his chest as her fingers twirled through the crisp hairs on his skin.

“You’re enjoying punishing her, aren’t you?” Justine asked.

“Punishing her?”

“Isn’t that part of this escapade for you? Punishing her for abandoning you and your brilliant future together?”

“Perhaps.” His hand squeezed the flesh of her bare rear. “Oh, Jus, you realize if father hadn’t sent me to Jamaica, if Amanda hadn’t married William and waited for me, if I hadn’t been on that damned ship coming home, if I hadn’t survived, if I hadn’t been found, if they’d married you off to someone else—if, if, if—we wouldn’t be in this bed together right now.” His eyes pierced hers as she planted a kiss on his chest. Then another. “And we never would have—” Her fingers pressed over his lips.

“Yes.”

He kissed her hand and held it. “Now tell me about Charles.”

“You men have an aversion to paying attention when women speak, do you not?” Her hand wrapped around his cock and stroked and pulled.

“For fuck’s sake.” His breath hitched.

“Are you paying attention now?” she whispered as her fingers cupped his balls then stroked him harder, quicker.

“I’m most definitely paying attention, Lady Graven.” He rolled her on her back, grinning at her. “Do you believe me?”

“I believe you, Bran. It’s them I don’t trust.”

“Damn them,” he whispered sliding his hands under her chemise and over her bare hips. He thrust deep inside her quim in one long stroke. Justine bit her lip, her eyelids sinking as he dragged his cock out slowly and thrust back in. She moved against him, her hands pressing into his sleek back.

His lips brushed her ear. “You’re my sweet Jus. I need you, love,” Brandon whispered as he filled her. A groan escaped his chest as he watched the emotion wash over her face.

“Bran—”

“No more talking.”

“
ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THE SIXTY-FIVE POUNDS
?”

Justine frowned at her husband from across the desk. “Must I repeat myself, Lord Graven?”

“Really, t’isn’t worth an argument,” Davidson said glancing up at Justine. “Let me see.” He leaned over her paper and scanned her figures. She rubbed her stiff neck. They could have been finished ages ago.

“Sixty-five it is.” Davidson grinned at Justine, then glanced up at Brandon. “I really must be off now milord. We’ll meet tomorrow to discuss the new sheep, eh?”

Dear God, yes, discuss the damned sheep tomorrow.
Justine rubbed at her temple.

“Tomorrow.” Brandon lifted his chin at his manager.

“My lady.” Davidson nodded at Justine and showed himself out.

Justine tossed her quill on the desk. “Do you think I’m incapable of simple sums?”

Brandon glanced up at her leaning back in the old leather chair. “Must you take offense so easily? All I asked for was confirmation.”

“Confirmation?” she asked quirking an eyebrow. “Three times? How I managed without you for so very long I will never know. I remember a time that you and William did not do as well at sums as Annie and I.”

“For God’s sake, woman, we were children then.” He scowled. “We wanted to chase toads and squirrels, not labor over sums.”

Justine rolled her eyes.

“Do you require a prize now?” Brandon asked, a smirk twisting his lips. Their governess had turned her lesson into a contest one day between the boys and the girls. Justine and Annie had beaten the boys soundly, and the governess had rewarded them with sweets. “I’m afraid I’m all out of toffee,” Brandon said as he collected the papers that were splayed across the desk organizing them into two separate piles.

She sighed as she shuffled her collection of bills into one, even pile and slid them across the desk to Brandon. “I don’t require toffee.”

He filed all of them into a leather folder. His long fingers worked quickly to fasten it, and her gaze rested on the elegance and efficiency of their movements. The ledger and the heavy folder thudded into the desk drawer. Brandon slammed the drawer shut and locked it. He laid his hands firmly on the surface of the desk.

This damned desk.

“What ever is the matter, Justine?”

Her scalp prickled. Here on this desk, William had put the quill in her hand and held it there. Here on this desk, she had signed the many marital and banking documents that had changed her life so indelibly. Here in this study, he and Richard had hung over her in a severe yet gleeful manner, a unique talent they both possessed, convincing her, threatening her. Their solicitor had hovered in the doorway, his face red.

The dire grimness and guilt that had haunted each one of those occasions beat through her afresh lacing her insides with ice. Such doom had pressed in on her then in this very room, in this very chair. She took in a breath and eased back in the chair, her hands sliding over the engraved arms, clutching the ends.

And now?

Now in this same room, on the same desk, she was organizing a household budget with her husband, the Baron of Graven, lord of Wolfsgate. Just another mundane activity for Lady Justine.

Yes, exceedingly normal, quite mundane.

She breathed out again and slowly reached out a hand and traced a line against the rounded edge of the polished mahogany desk. Brandon’s desk. Now it was Brandon’s desk. Her fingers grazed the thumb moulding over the smooth green leather writing surface and traced over the seam of gilt tooling.

His eyes narrowed over her. “Justine, are you unwell?”

Normal. Justine and Brandon at Wolfsgate. Brandon’s desk.

Yes, normal.

The tension drained from her limbs, and a small smile swept over her lips. “I’m very well.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“Indeed, I am.”

“You seem—”

“Shall we open one of those new bottles of Madeira that arrived this morning?”

“You want to try the Madeira?”

“Hmm. A good Madeira would be just right.” She rose from her chair, fluid warmth stealing through her. “Yes, don’t you think? Let’s. I definitely need a glass of—”

“I need to be inside you.”

She stilled and met his gaze. His eyes had darkened and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Doing sums arouses you?” she asked.

“Sums relax me. Arguing with you arouses me.” His voice was low and thick. “Come here.”

Justine went to him as if under the power of an invisible force pulling her towards him. He put an arm low around her waist drawing her close, and her hand slid over the bulging hardness between his legs. A husky breath escaped the back of his throat, and a blaze of heat flared inside her. She touched her mouth to his, her other hand sinking into his hair as she slipped into his lap. He pulled her into a deep, hard kiss, and she was lost.

“Here,” she said between kisses.

“Pardon?”

“Let’s do it here.” She pulled at the fastening of his breeches.

“Here?” His eyes widened as her hands worked to free him.

“Yes, here.”

Here in this room where they had made her agree to their hateful plan.

“Are you sure?” A wicked smile tipped his lips.

Georgina’s words from the ball rushed into her brain: “
Give him something different.”

The heat of his hungry gaze made her entire body seize. She licked at her dry lips and slid from his lap to the floor. His eyes widened over her. She released his rigid cock from his breeches and wrapped her hand around its stiff length as she rose to her knees before him.

Brandon’s breathing became jagged, his pulse banged in his head. He brushed his thumb over her lips, and her tongue swiped at it, then she took it in her fantastic little mouth all the while stroking his cock up and down, as her other hand found his balls.

“Bloody hell, Justine…”

Heaven help him. No, wait. He didn’t want saving. He wanted to suffer this glorious torment. She glanced up at him, her dusky eyes innocent yet knowing, playful. Fucking mischievous. Oh yes, he was ready for death now, he was sure of it. Her mouth released his wet thumb, and she bent her head and licked at the tip of his cock, then dragged her tongue up and down the rigid shaft.
St. Peter are you waiting for me at the gates?
He would certainly die the happiest of men.

He let out a low groan and shifted his hips. At that, she took him in her mouth fully and sucked on him slowly while her other hand continued stroking him. His brain drained of all logic, all sense. His mouth hung open just taking in the sight of her at work over him. The wet suction of her hot, little mouth made his eyes roll back in his head. With a slight moan, she took him deeper. He dug his hands into her hair cupping her head.

“Jus, damn.” He shuddered. His eyes were locked on Justine on her knees in between his legs, her gorgeous shiny lips wrapped around his cock. He was utterly at her mercy; he was her slave. Dammit, if he didn’t stop her now, he was going to make a mess all over her, and he didn’t want to. What he desperately wanted was to pound into her sweet quim and maybe tonight in their bed she could resume this…

This…

Look at her.

His mouth went dry. What if that bloody parlor maid came in now to chat about dusting or Molly shuffled in with a tray of refreshments? Poor woman would surely have an apoplectic fit.

Another moan erupted from Justine’s throat.

Holy mother of…

Detonations went off all over his tight flesh. Her hand squeezed around the base of his cock, and he grit his teeth. “Jus, stop. For the love of all that is holy, please.”

His wet and heavy cock slipped out of her glistening, swollen lips with a popping sound. Her skin was flushed, her eyes round. “You didn’t like it?”

“It was fantastic. You’re fantastic. But I want to finish inside you, with you.”

She let out a whimper and rose immediately to straddle his lap.

Oh, there’s my girl.

He wrenched her skirts high and ran his fingers over her bare thighs. Justine moaned as he explored her wet heat. She moved over him, against him, her body demanding friction, demanding to feel more, more, more. He pressed the soft globes of her rear closer to him and nipped her lower lip with his teeth.

“Tell me what you want, Jus,” he rasped. “I want to hear you say it.”

A hazy smile stole over her lips. “I want you to fill me with your cock right here on this desk,” she whispered against his blazing skin.

Hell, he was a lucky bastard.

“Fill you I will,” he breathed.

He propped her up on the desk and wrenched her skirts up around her waist. She let out a tiny yelp and kicked off her shoes with a grin. His fingers dragged over her stockinged legs, hooking them around his hips.

“Vixen.” He planted his hands on either side of her and impaled her with his length as he watched her. Justine let out a sob. Her silky insides drummed around his throbbing length, sucking him in. His cock was so, so very happy, the happiest cock in all of England.

“Jus.” He inhaled a gust of air trying to regain a slip of his sanity. “You’re pure bloody velvet.” She cried out with his every slamming stroke, her body jerking across the desk. “You mesmerize me over and over again,” he murmured. She twisted her hips into his, and that small movement made the violence of his hunger for her even fiercer. Certainly gone was his Mistress of Self-Control.

She panted hard, her eyes shining, her skin flushed, that slow smile curling her lips again. A tight lash whipped straight through his chest. His entire body throbbed with the sensations of Justine unravelling around him.

Images from a thousand years ago burned through his brain. Her trembling little girl hand in his when she had been lost in the meadow for hours, and he had found her with a tear-stained face, sheep chasing her. Her anxious smile when he had lifted her up onto the saddle of his horse for the first time, and afterwards her tight embrace and nervous giggle when she thanked him for that first ride on Midnight.

Finding her hiding in the prospect room in the tower crouched in a corner hiccuping on tears after they’d brought Annie’s lifeless body back to the house. They had sat there in the dust for a long while until she had fallen asleep in his arms, then he had carried her back to her bed. The rose petals tangled in her mop of hair the day he had left for the Indies. Her hushed goodbye in his ear as she hugged him quickly before darting back a few steps to stand next to Richard, her wet eyes averted, every inch the disciplined young lady.