His Favorite Mistress Page 29

  “Tony, don’t,” she beseeched.

  “Don’t what?” Using a force she could not escape, he compelled her to do as he demanded; although she noticed he was careful not to bruise her flesh or cause her harm—at least not physically. “You said to just take you and get it over with,” he reminded in a harsh voice. “You didn’t say what position I had to do it in. This is the one I want.”

  She swallowed and trembled, wondering how this had all gone so wrong. But even as she braced herself for his penetration, it didn’t come. Instead, he bent over her and began to caress her skin. Scattering kisses, he roved over her shoulders and along the line of her back, while around front, he stroked her, his hands gliding in a warm, winding, seductive path.

  “I suppose you won’t respond to this either?” he questioned as he fondled her breasts, sliding her tight nipples in and out between his fingers.

  She shuddered, her nipples hardening to aching beads.

  “Ah, it would seem you’re making a liar of yourself already,” he declared. “But let’s investigate further.”

  Before she could stop him, his hand dived low, trailing over her belly and thighs, then around to thread through her nether curls as he sought out her most delicate flesh. She throbbed against him, condemningly slick to his touch. As he ran his fingers over her, scattering more kisses against her neck and back, she suddenly knew how he planned to claim his punishment.

  He was going to make her beg.

  Biting her lip, she held back a moan. But he wouldn’t have it, wrapping her hair around one wrist so he could angle her head back for his kiss. Forcing her to yield, he claimed her mouth with raw, dark need, opening her so he could capture her tongue and draw on it, suckling her the way he might a candy stick. She had to moan then, the sound unstoppable as it vibrated against his lips. Smiling, he took more.

  While he continued kissing her, he made no pause in his sensual assault of her body, his fingers moving over her and inside her until her mind began to dull, her body writhing and arching of its own accord. Pleasure spread, her skin growing damp and aching.

  He stroked her again and abruptly she came, the climax crashing through her—wild and fierce as a hurricane. Shuddering, her muscles trembled as a blissful lassitude stole through her weakened limbs. Half-boneless, she tried to sink downward onto the mattress, but Tony refused, holding her in place as he started the process over again.

  “I’m going to make you come,” he whispered. “I’m going to make you come until you can’t come any more, and then I’ll make you do it again even then.”

  And as he touched and kissed, fondled and licked her over the next long span of time, he did just that, driving her up and over in relentless waves until all she knew was need and Tony—her mind blank to anything but him and the bliss he made her feel.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t take more, he settled firmly behind her and parted her legs with his knees, opening her fully to his possession. Positioning her hands flat against the mattress, he wrapped one arm around her belly and held her secure.

  Curving over her, he kissed her neck. “Have you ever seen a stallion breed?” he murmured. “The mare is readied, then he comes to take her. Often he’ll bite her to keep her in place. Shall I kiss you, Gabriella, or would you rather I bite you instead?”

  She shuddered and gasped, releasing a keening cry as he thrust inside her, sinking his teeth into her shoulder at the same moment. Ecstasy chased through her veins like liquid fire, threatening to burn her up from the inside out. She arched and took him, her vulnerable position letting him sink almost impossibly deep, deeper than she thought he’d ever gone. Stroking fast and hard within her, he built her desire again, tormenting her with want, his every thrust leaving her needier than the one before. Gripping the sheets in her fists, she held on, arching back now to meet him, to drive him deeper and quicker as she trembled on the brink of pure ecstasy.

  She flew over moments later, a scream ripped from her throat as she shook violently within his powerful grip. A blinding cascade of rapture flooded her, making her quake from tip to toe as her mind simply stopped.

  When she returned to herself, she was floating on a sea of divine pleasure as Tony made a few last, frenzied thrusts inside her before claiming his own delight. He groaned, then slid down, the pair of them collapsing in a tangle of limbs. Panting and dazed, she cuddled against him, drawing in his scent and his strength. At length, he rolled onto his back, keeping her against him as if loath to give her up even for an instant.

  If only he loved me like that! she mused. But then she pushed the cruel idea away and let herself sleep, her final thought the hope that he would still be there when she next woke.

  The steady gleam of sunlight roused Gabriella from a deep, almost dreamless sleep. As she woke, the faint sounds of water splashing into a bowl came to her ears. “Lay out my dressing gown, would you, Janet?” she mumbled in a drowsy voice. “I’m just going to lie here a few minutes more, then I’ll be up.”

  “You can lie abed all day if you like,” rumbled a low masculine voice. “And Janet brought you a pitcher of warm water before I sent her off. You can ring for her whenever you’re ready.”

  Abruptly, Gabriella’s sleepiness fell away, memories of the night just past rushing into her mind. Rolling onto her side, she searched for Tony and discovered him across the room in front of her washstand. He’d slipped on his trousers, she saw, but nothing else—the rest of him boldly, breathtakingly naked.

  Letting her gaze roam, she realized she must have interrupted his ablutions, since glistening droplets of water were caught in the expanse of dark curls on his chest, his face moist from a recent washing. Employing a leisurely motion, he rubbed a towel over his face, then did the same below, stroking the cotton cloth over his pectorals and under his arms.

  “I assumed you’d gone,” she said, curving the sheet up over her breasts.

  He draped the towel around his neck and strolled toward her. “Not yet. I have some time this morning. I thought we might take breakfast together.”

  “Breakfast, is it?” she repeated in a casual tone that belied the unsteady thumping of her heart. “I am sure Cook would be more than happy to oblige you. I, however, have engagements and shall just take tea while I dress.”

  Before she could rise from the bed, he dropped down next to her, nudging her with his hip so she was compelled to scoot over and roll onto her back.

  “I thought you were going to sleep a while more?” he questioned in a silky voice.

  “I was, but then I recalled that I promised Julianna I would accompany her on a trip to the millinery. We are to have nuncheon, then make our way to the shops.”

  Leaning forward, he planted his hands on either side of her, effectively caging her between his strong arms. “Nuncheon’s hours off. You have time.”

  She met his gaze for a long moment, reading the undisguised desire that turned his eyes a deep, penetrating blue. Her blood heated as a liquid rush engulfed her. Resisting her own needs, she rolled abruptly onto her side. “You’re right,” she declared, beating a fist against the pillow beneath her head. “I do have time. Tell Janet to wake me up in an hour.” Having clearly dismissed him, she squeezed her eyelids closed.

  Instead he kept his seat.

  “Go away, Tony,” she said after a full minute had passed, resolutely keeping her eyes closed. “You can see me again tonight.”

  “But I’m seeing you right now. Perhaps you need another reminder like the one last night.” He lowered his mouth to her shoulder and kissed her before giving her a teasing, painless little nip with his teeth.

  Her eyes flashed open, her gaze going once again to his. “No, I need no reminders.”

  “Well then?”

  She turned onto her back. “You haven’t shaved.”

  “I didn’t have a razor. I will see to it one is sent here, along with a few other essentials I’ll need in the future.” Hooking a finger around the edge of the sheet, he eased i
t down to expose her naked breasts.

  Her nipples hardened with condemning honesty, her body telling him what she could not conceal. “So?” she said on a husky note. “Do you still want breakfast?”

  A feral grin curved his lips. “I do, yes. That is, if you’re what’s on the menu.”

  Their gazes locked for a long moment before she gave a muffled curse and reached up to pull him to her. Taking his mouth with a ravishing hunger, she let him have his way.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  A LIGHT BREEZE wafted through the open sitting-room window of Gabriella’s townhouse, the air surprisingly warm for a late March day. Seated at her rosewood escritoire, she watched an orange-bellied robin hop across the greening grass in the small rear garden below, and knew spring was definitely upon them.

  The new Season was as well, London abuzz as members of the Ton descended upon the city in force. With their arrival came parties and balls, and a steadily increasing selection of invitations that began to arrive daily at the house requesting her presence at one event or another. Despite the ceaseless gossip regarding her separation from Tony—if one could call what they presently had a separation—such chatter was not proving a hindrance to her social success. As the new Duchess of Wyvern she seemed to be more popular than ever, clearly more so than she had been as plain Miss Gabriella St. George.

  After sifting through the small stack of vellum cards that had arrived only that morning, she set them aside and returned to penning her letter to Maude. Choosing her words with some care, she related most—though not all—of what was now happening in her life. To be truthful, even Gabriella didn’t always feel as if she knew what was going on in her life lately, taking each day as it came, without expectation or plan. She was Tony’s wife, and yet in many of the ways that counted, she wasn’t. She was his mistress, though she wasn’t actually that either—her days and nights passing in a strange, almost contradictory duality of roles.

  Since that first memorable evening—and morning—two months ago when Tony returned to her bed, she’d given up any further attempts to deny him. He’d more than proven his mastery over her when it came to all things sexual, her passion for him simply too strong to resist. And what is the point, she found herself asking, when I adore all the deliciously wicked things he does to my body?

  As for the rest, including her continuing one-sided love for him, she refused to let herself dwell on such difficulties. There would be plenty of time later to repine, she decided, months and years to come in which she could wish for what she did not have and would never be able to find.

  Still, in spite of her total capitulation in the bedroom, she was adamant about maintaining her independence when it came to her living arrangements. More than once, Tony had asked her to give up her stubborn ways, as he called them, and return with him to Black House. But always she refused. She might give him her body. She might give him a child. She might even give him her heart, but she would not let him claim her free will or what scraps remained of her pride, knowing how much she would one day need those small dignities in order to survive. And so she went on day by day, not allowing herself to think much beyond the moment or the activity at hand.

  She had finished her letter and was sealing it with a few drops of hot red wax when her cat, Hamlet, leapt onto the desk. With his orange tail held high, he paused and gave a loud meow before weaving dangerously close to her open bottle of ink and the candle she’d lighted to melt the wax. Quickly she replaced the stopper and blew out the wick, doubly glad she had done so when his black-furred brother, Othello, joined them.

  True to his word, Tony had sent immediately for her kittens after she’d asked him to do so, the lively pair arriving only two days later, rushed down to London by a footman. In the weeks that followed, the growing cats had settled in, claiming their spots on all the best furniture and providing excellent company during those times when she found herself alone.

  Rescuing her letter from stray paw prints, she watched the pair leap down again and race playfully across the room, nearly crashing into Tony’s legs as he appeared in the doorway.

  He laughed as they ran past, out into the hallway. “Considering the antics of those two miscreants, I am surprised you have any breakables left,” he remarked, strolling into the room.

  “They’re amazingly nimble, although they did break a plate in the kitchen last week. Anyway, I’m glad you’ve come,” she said, turning slightly on her chair. “You can frank this letter for me.”

  Stopping next to her, he shot her a look. “Glad to know I can be of some service,” he said, quirking a brow that conveyed his amusement and sarcasm. Leaning across her desk, he took up her pen, dipped it into her inkwell, and inscribed his name on the upper corner. “There, that should suffice. I will, however, expect a proper show of appreciation.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you.”

  “You can do better than that.”

  She paused, sending him a teasing smile. “Thank you very much.”

  “Minx,” he said on a laugh. Drawing her out of her chair, he wrapped her inside his arms. “Now, madam, you may begin displaying your gratitude.”

  Cupping his face between her palms, she urged him to bend his head and kiss her, opening her mouth to share a warm, wet side of tongue and lips that was long and bold enough to elicit a growl from deep in his throat. “Acceptable?” she asked as she eased away.

  “Not bad.” His palms slid downward to cup her bottom, giving her pliable flesh a light squeeze. “Although I can think of other methods you might exercise.”

  She looped her arms around his waist. “Hmm, well, those methods will have to wait until later. I have an engagement this afternoon.”

  “Break it,” he said, planting his lips against her neck for a drawing kiss.

  “I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. “In fact I need to dress if I’m to leave on time.”

  “Let me help you undress.” He kissed her again, stroking his hands over her posterior in a most possessive, insistent manner. “You can be late.”

  “It’s a lecture. If I’m late, I’ll miss it entirely.”

  “Then miss it. Lectures are notoriously boring. Let someone else take notes.” From behind, he began to gather her skirt into his hands, distracting her with a kiss that made her pulse skitter at a crazy pace.

  “The servants might come in,” she warned, breath growing shallow in her lungs.

  “They won’t. Not after your footman caught me tupping you against the dining-room wall last week. I think they know now to stay away unless they’re called for—at least when I’m around.”

  Color pinked her cheeks to remember, recalling the servant’s astonished expression before she’d hidden her face against Tony’s shoulder and blocked out the view. For his part, Tony had barked out a harsh command for the young man to get the hell out and shut the door; then he’d gone on thrusting inside her, reawakening her passion until she’d come in a violent, spasming rush—the rapture too intense to be denied despite any future embarrassment.

  “Maybe I can be a little late,” she said. “Why don’t we go to my room.”

  “We can, but—wait now, what is this?”

  God, how could I have forgotten? “Nothing,” she squirmed, suddenly not wanting him to know. But already it was too late, his hands delving beneath her skirts.

  “Are you wearing the pantalettes?” he ventured, one palm sliding over the silk before roving inside the garment to find her bare skin.

  She’d worn them before as he’d asked, but only in bed. She didn’t know what naughty imp had gotten into her today to put them on under her clothes. Beneath his trousers, his shaft leapt to life, straining like a length of steel that threatened to rend the cloth. Suddenly, she realized they’d never make it to her bed. “At least close the door,” she whispered.

  Lifting her off her feet, one of his hands positioned on her naked bottom beneath the slit in her little silk pants, he strode across and kicked the door. It closed with
a slam she was sure everyone in the house heard. But suddenly, she didn’t care as his mouth came down on her own, his other hand joining the first to explore her nether flesh.

  A thrill went through her as he set her in the armchair where she’d once fantasized about just such a scenario. Shoving her skirts high, he revealed the undergarments, then spread her legs open to reveal her. Dropping to his knees just as she had envisioned, he slid her forward. But instead of taking her as she expected, he claimed her with his mouth, using his lips and tongue in such a way that she couldn’t contain her cries of ecstasy, quaking as he brought her to several forceful peaks. Then it was his turn, freeing his trousers to thrust inside.

  They ended up on the floor with her on top, Tony working her until she was so limp and languorous with pleasure that she couldn’t form a coherent sentence. She was so dazed, in fact, that she forgot all about her lecture, snuggling happily inside his arms. At length, he carried her to bed, where they slept and made love throughout the afternoon and on into the night.

  Tony stretched an arm behind his head, lying comfortably against a pair of feather pillows while he watched Gabriella dress. He’d sent her maid away, agreeing to help her with any buttons or laces that might need fastening. At the moment, she was rolling one of a pair of white silk stockings up the length of her shapely leg, the sight doing things to his body he’d frankly assumed impossible at the moment.

  “If you keep that up,” he drawled, “I may just need you back in this bed.”

  She shot him a look. “I don’t know where you can find the strength.” Returning to her grooming, she secured the first stocking with a ribboned garter before reaching for the next. “You are insatiable, Your Grace.”

  “And so I am,” he grinned, feeling well satisfied after their morning tryst. He’d spent the night—an occurrence that was starting to take on the trappings of a routine. Rarely now did an evening go by that he wasn’t here, preferring to sleep in her bed far more than he ever did his own.