Saffina's Season (9 page)

“This is unfair, sir,” I wailed, tears spilling. “Am I to tell you all my movements? You said—”

“Silence.”

I shuddered as he stroked me again, his hand cool and smooth now on my hot, stinging ass. With a sigh, he slipped his fingers once more into the tingling spaces between my legs. I felt moisture trickle where he touched, betraying my all-too-shameful pleasure at this casual display of his will.

“Now for the tawse. You’ll take this in silence, or you’ll stay tied here till nightfall.”

What?
The humiliation of it. Terror clamped my mouth shut as I felt his arm rise, saw its shadow fall across the bed. The tawse rose with it, then it landed with a crash.

I writhed as the sting bit. Heat sparked through me in a lightning shaft of raw lust, clenching my belly and pooling shamefully between my legs. Cruelly, he waited for the pain to bloom, stroking my sorry ass with cool, flexing fingers, his sudden tenderness springing yet more tears. Once more he kissed me, trailing whisper-soft touches of his lips all along my spine, down to where I awaited the next crashing blow on my quivering, burning ass-cheeks.

The leather fell again and again, until I thought I should have to scream aloud at the force of it. All at once I saw it land on the bed as he flung it away, then, to my surprise, I felt his cock—cool, hard and silky, as he prodded at my punished behind, eager for entry.

“No climax for you. And you must promise me, no touching. Can you do that? Or shall I bind your wrists?”

Yet more shame?

“Are we still going out, sir?”

“To Vauxhall? Certainly. And I shall expect you to sparkle your best. No slouching or hanging back. If you do, we’ll start over the moment we return. So, no touching. You promise?”

“Yes, sir. I promise.”

Drat the man.
I was burning up now, desperate to come. Not touching would be a far harder test than a mere spanking.

How shall I bear it?

He untied my wrists and spun me around with a laugh. His eyes glittered as he pulled my hair back from my face.

“See you keep your word,” he murmured. “Or you may regret it.”

* * * *

Vauxhall Gardens was all he’d promised. I walked stiffly after my harsh spanking. But his amused looks turned my discomfort to something very different. With my tender places stirred and throbbing, my sore backside protesting at every step, his glances sparked a steady pulse deep in my groin.

I felt new heat in every glance, a pleasurable shiver whenever we touched. And soon we’d be alone again…

The sun shone, the gowns were pretty, smiles bright. Jacquard introduced me to so many persons of fashion that I thought I’d met half of Almack’s before we’d reached halfway.

Soon, brimming with the latest gossip—
Did we know the regent’s new mistress was a mystery? Had we heard he meant to reveal her soon? Was it true he planned a ball at Carlton House?
—we turned back for home. Jacquard was greeting some friends from his club when I heard someone call out to me from the shrubbery.

“
Milady?
Over here.”

Startled, I spun around to see Martin, his eyes wild.

“I’ve been trying to reach you. I called at your house. They turned me away.”

I frowned, horrified. “Go away, sir. I warned you, no contact. You promised.”

He frowned. “But you said—”

“Enough,” I said firmly. “My husband will see us. Stay away from the house and from me. No one must see us together.”

I turned away and ran straight into Jacquard. “
Oh.
You startled me, sir. Are we ready for home?”

“Who was that?” His expression was all mild interest.

My thoughts were all confusion.

“No one. That is—” I floundered. “I—I was asking a groundsman about the plants.”

“
Plants?
Since when did you take an interest in plants?” Jacquard narrowed his eyes. “Since they needed a fetching young blade to explain them, maybe?”

My heart sank. He was still out of temper. His losses at cards must be even worse than I’d thought. “Please don’t pry, Jacquard,” I said gently. “It’s all part of your surprise.”

“Meeting young bloods in shrubberies?” He glowered. “Is this a surprise I’m likely to enjoy?”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered. “I hope so. Please be patient.”

Ignoring the risk of being seen out here in the open, I reached up and kissed his cheek. For a moment he stood very still. With a dark look he squeezed my hand and we walked on.

But this was serious. If his losses were too great to tell me, it would take more than stolen kisses to mend things.

On the way back to Endale House, he said little, his expression grim. On arrival, he snapped at the footman and scowled at the groom. And when he handed me out of the carriage, he kept firm hold of my hand. As we walked past an alcove, he pushed me up against the wall.

I gasped as he put his face close to mine.

“What happened just now, madam? Why do you whisper to young men in shrubberies? You fancy a bit of rough?”

“Jacquard? You’re hurting. It’s not like that—”

“No? Then what is it like? You forget, ma’am, that I can do rough as well as smooth, if that’s your fancy.”

As I opened my mouth to protest, he captured it with his. His kiss was hard and controlling, like I’d unleashed some inner demon. Heat spiraled through me as he forced my legs apart with his knee and wrenched up my skirts. He pulled me hard against him with his hand at my rump, his jutting cock hot against my belly, the hard ridge of fabric that covered it pressing painfully into my naked softness.

“Lift your legs, damn it.” His command made me prickle all over as he hoisted my thighs up around his waist and ground against me, his mouth finding mine again as he freed himself. At once he surged up inside me, his deep grunt of triumph echoing in his chest. He stifled my shouts of pleasure with the full force of his greedy tongue.

I felt his heartbeat race to match mine as we clung together, fused in heat. If servants tiptoed past, I never heard them. My blood pounded in my ears to the rhythm of his strokes as he filled me, ebbed away and plunged again, skewering me on his lust.

When he finally released my mouth and lowered me to my feet, I was all on fire, giddy with arousal, astonished he could go so far, so fast without release. I reached down to touch his burning manhood as he swiftly fastened himself. “You’ve not
come
, sir? You want me to—”

“Later.” His face grew stern. He took something from his pocket and placed it in my ransacked bosom.

The leather rose.

“Twenty minutes.” He strode off, leaving me mussed, panting and bereft.

Newly anxious.

In the Leather Room, I’d soon reach the climax I craved. But…what about my portrait
?

Would marks spoil the sittings?

Chapter Nine

“Do you know why you’re here?”

His words thrilled me as I knelt on the leather mat before him.

“Yes, sir,” I murmured. “For discipline, for punishment…” The possibilities seemed endless. I murmured a few more, careful to leave out all mention of admirers.

I felt nervous now. The second Jacquard had ordered me in here, I’d felt a shaft of white-hot arousal. Our last session in here had been wildly exciting.

But I still smarted from the tawse. And I had to watch the marks.

“I’m enjoying the list,” he murmured, lifting my chin to gaze into my eyes. “And seeing your soft lips tremble. But this room has pleasures too. I warned you not to touch yourself. Did you obey?”

He scanned my face.

I swallowed. Impossible to hide the truth when he looked at me like that. I usually spoke my mind, often getting in trouble when I did so.

I did it now.

“No sir,” I whispered. “My need was too strong.”

He leaned back in the chair, amused.

“Very well. Then you know what happens next. But first you must show me what you did.”

I felt a rush of pure joy. “You mean…I can
come
?”

His lazy smile should have warned me. Foolishly I smiled back at him, hopeful.

He took much pleasure watching me take mine. It looked like my session in here could be fun.

“Did I say that? I
said
show me what you did.”

Leaning back with my hand deep in my skirts, I splayed my thighs wide for him to see. With a short, cruel laugh, he flicked my skirts up to my waist.

“I prefer a clear view. Now begin.”

I started to feel myself, my fingers quickly slick with juices, sending shudders of excitement over me. Pitilessly exposed to his dark, amused gaze, I worked my fingers faster, desperate to reach relief before he made me stop.

At the same time, I felt hot shame.
Why does he make me do this?

As a raw girl, I’d pleasured myself often. Since meeting Jacquard, I usually did this at his direction. His vigorous attentions left me so satisfied that I scarcely ever felt the need. But having to do it as a punishment filled me with hot, burning shame, fanning my arousal even hotter.

Now, close to my peak, I closed my eyes to savor the moment. Instantly I felt a slash of pain on my wrist.

My eyes snapped open. I snatched my hand away with a whimper. The whip he’d used—a tough-looking crop—still quivered in his long fingers.

“Enough.” His rigid jaw and the tough gleam in his eyes warned we were not at play. He looked stern and remote. Worse, he was already freeing himself.

“See to me, and take your time. If you do it well, you’ll attend tonight’s party with your hands unfettered. If you miss a stroke or fail to please, I’ll bind your wrists.” The cruel glint in his eyes meant business. “You may start.”

“Wait, sir,” I faltered. “Why are you so harsh, so unloving? Have you lost a great sum at cards or on some silly wager? I have my own money, remember? I can help you out if you—”

Fury flashed in his eyes as he leaned forward. “You think I care so much for money? I face losing something far more precious—and irreplaceable.”

Alarm clutched my stomach. “Good grief, sir, what? Your properties? Your life? Don’t say you plan to fight a duel?”

His bitter smile made me cringe. “
Life?
Something even more precious than that. You’re watched by many and are the subject of gossip. The word is you’re having an affair.”

“
What?
But—”

“Enough.” He sounded weary. “It’s common among our rank. And to be blunt, one of the main reasons I was glad you avoided the Season last year while you were having our son. I suppose I thought I could trust you. But you’re so young…”

“
Young?
But, sir—”

He put a hand over my mouth. Now I saw real pain in his eyes. “Enough, I said. I should have known you’d seek someone younger. It was only to be expected. And now to business. Pleasure, rather. Mine, at least. Do your worst.”

His curt tone gave me little choice. Neither did the sight of his cock looming before me, now glossy with need. It reared in my face, tall and proud, purplish in color and hot to the touch. I caressed it lovingly, glancing up once or twice to see if I pleased.

This time his stern look gave me no clue.

Shorn of hope, I fell to with a will, tasting, teasing with the tip of my tongue, licking with the flat. Soon, I sensed his strain. I plunged over, yawning open my throat to take it all.

After a few missed thrusts, I managed it, feeling real pride that I could, when my face—and my heart—felt so choked with tears.

This was disaster. My plans for his present were falling into chaos. I’d forgotten how famous he was. Here in town we were always on show, our every move watched, our lightest remark eagerly repeated.

Vicious tongues happily wagged at any hint of gossip about the newest arrivals, the Earl of Endale and his new countess. If he had enemies here, males jealous of his wealth and his looks, I had them too—females cheated of their yearly sport of chasing him.

But with my mouth fully filled and my throat strained to bursting, I knew that here I was at home, and doing this was one of my greatest pleasures. As I rode him to fruition, I felt his touch on my face. He ran his fingers lightly down my cheek, as if in wonder as his climax built.

Even at his peak, controlled in this as in all things, he betrayed the moment only with tension in his fingers and a jolt in his breathing. But it was all I needed.

I felt a ray of hope that my mouth, at least, still had the power to please, even if he mistrusted my words.

His suspicions would be harder to handle than his needy cock, but handle them I would. Soon his birthday surprise would be in the bag. All it needed was a few more sittings under the supervision of Martin’s crazy friend.

Once more, I was dicing with danger.

Just like the old times.

* * * *

Forbidden yet again to pleasure myself, I tried hard to avoid it during the short time we had to get ready before going out. Tormented by his merciless whip, it took all my restraint. But because my promise was so hard to keep, my denial felt all the sweeter, leaving me pulsing and wet.

Now every move, every shift of my clothing, made me long for his touch. His every glance reminded me of his command.

Would he put an end to my misery? When? Push me into an alcove, maybe? Take me over the arm of a chair? Wait till the maids were almost upon us then bury his hand in my skirts and dare me to climax without making a sound while they walked past?

He’d tried all of these at one time or another. His range of torments seemed endless. It was unbearable to think he could end my misery with a mere flick of his fingers, but endure it I must.

To seal my fate, Jacquard shut himself in his study with his secretary to dictate letters. Sulky, I lounged on my bed, sipped lemonade and summoned my maids to help chose an evening gown for tonight’s party.

A little later I made my way down to the entrance hall, satisfied that I looked fine enough for anywhere, let alone Lady Hornsea’s musical evening. Impossible to avoid her, she moved in the very best circles, the prince’s among them.