Badcock (15 page)

“Get on your knees,” he said.

She shook her head but her traitorous
cunny
contracted wildly.

“Twice,” he said and smirked. “That’s twice now.”

Her eyes fell to his erection. “I can’t possibly take you inside me…
there
.”

“Oh, three times.” He put the jar on the little table beside the bed and snapped the leather strap against his thigh. “Three, my sweet. Are you ready to get on your knees or will you protest a fourth time?”

Heat circled her rim. Deciding she could not take more than three swats with the strap, she twisted onto her knees.

“Head down,” Jack said.

Sophia dropped her head and shoulders to the mattress, knowing she was fully exposed to him. Dear Lord, what kind of woman welcomed this sort of thing?

She nearly swooned when his warm palm fondled her bum but just as she relaxed into the delectable sensation, the leather smacked her ass. She cried out as the sting coursed through her like wildfire and then abated into a slow, smoldering throb. “One,” she heard herself say, her voice muffled by the bed linen. Her toes curled as she awaited the next fall of the strap.

She did not have to wait long.
Smack!
“Two,” she sighed the word and gripped handfuls of the sheets. She’d never dreamed being punished could feel so wonderful. The bite of the strap made her feel alive. In some odd way, it prepared her for the pleasure to come.

Her nipples swelled and she took her breasts in her hands, pinching the tight little buds as the third blow burned through her backside. “Oh yes,” she mewled, releasing one nipple so she could reach between her legs to massage her yearning clitoris.

Jack’s fingers slathered cool goo around her rosebud and she tensed. “No, love,” he coaxed. “Relax. This will give you pleasure. I promise you.”

Panic swamped her. “But—”

“Remember your word,” he told her, pushing a finger inside her.

The finger felt…
good
. Oh, so good. She relaxed as he explored her and when he finally removed his hand and climbed onto the bed behind her, she was ready for him.

Or so she thought.

The head of his cock nudged her nether hole and she ached to feel him inside her but when he breached her rim, she bit her bottom lip to keep from begging him to stop. White-hot pain shot around the opening.

“Relax, sweet,” he cooed.

“I can’t.”

“Relax. Let me inside you,” he said. “God, you’re tight.”

Her breaths came in short pants. “Jack…”

His fingers squeezed the soft flesh of her ass. “Put your fingers in your
cunny
,” he rasped. “I want you to know where my cock is.”

She slid a finger into her wet channel as he trespassed farther. “Oh!” she cried but he was all the way inside. The pain subsided and in its wake was pure bliss.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes, yes,” she moaned. “Fuck me, Jack. Fuck my ass.”

His fingers trembled as he gripped her and began to piston her hole. Sophia spiraled as she worked her hungry clitoris. Her thighs trembled and just when she thought she would cry “stop” ecstasy consumed her. Her body clamped down around him until he stopped moving and somewhere in the sweet solace of passion she realized his cries mingled with hers.

* * * * *

“You can’t very well call him out,”
Elinor
told Lord
Wisbech
. “He’s a sure shot and would most likely kill you.”

“Blast it! Don’t you think I’ve considered that?” He paced.

Elinor
watched him. Lord
Wisbech
was as fair as Jack was dark and where Jack boasted an almost coarse build, Lord
Wisbech
was fashionably elegant. Attired in a bright lemon frockcoat and bone breeches, he was the epitome of an English gentleman. He wore his flaxen hair swept back and tied with a narrow black ribbon. Brass buckles gleamed on his pumps and the lace at his cuffs floated exquisitely over his well-shaped hands and jeweled fingers. Another flourish of lace jutted from his collar.
Elinor
had never seen a better dressed man.

He certainly hid the fact that his funds were seriously depleted very well.
Elinor
knew better than to suggest he file a breach of promise suit. He might entertain the notion of having her retain his legal representation for her part in bringing the two lovers together.

“Maybe irony will play a part and a highwayman will do him in,” Lord
Wisbech
mused.

Elinor
stared as a wicked idea played in her thoughts. “What if that highwayman were
you
?”

Lord
Wisbech’s
gaze collided with
Elinor’s
and her lips drew into a smile. She continued. “No one would question a highwayman murdering a gentleman. Outlaws are rife along the roads to and from London.”

“Are you suggesting I masquerade as a highwayman and kill Lord Stafford?” Lord
Wisbech
asked.

Elinor
shifted on the settee and stroked her snoring pug’s head.
Wisbech
was enraged enough to kill Jack and
Elinor
was surprised that she felt no qualms about persuading the duke to go through with it. This was like a game—a game she was determined to win.

Although she had not been publicly humiliated as Lord
Wisbech
had been, Jack’s rebuke and blatant interest in his little virginal lover had been an insult that
Elinor
could not ignore.

When she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she saw an aging woman. Not even heavy powder could conceal her wrinkles. When she removed her wig, she noticed increasingly thinning hair. Her once-renowned beauty faded day by day and
Elinor
knew it.

She did not relish a future as an aging dowager who sang the praises of glory days long past and Jack’s disinterest was only one more step toward the inevitable. A cold chill crawled up her spine as she lifted her gaze from the sleeping dog. “Yes. I am suggesting you kill Lord Stafford. Do what you like with his whore but after what she’s done to you, I should think you’d like to see her dead and buried as well.”

Lord
Wisbech
pursed his lips and began pacing once more.
Elinor
held her breath as she waited for the gleam to appear in the duke’s eyes—the confirmation he would go through with it and put an end to Jack and his doxy.

“I don’t know…” he mused.

“If I were you,”
Elinor
prodded, “I would want to sample what Lord Stafford stole from me.”

Wisbech
stopped pacing. Turning, he stared.

Elinor
leaned slightly forward. “I would want her to know what she so carelessly tossed away.”

A smile curled his thin lips. Triumph surged as
Elinor
watched the sparks flash in
Wisbech’s
eyes.

* * * * *

“I don’t want to leave either,” Jack said and pressed a kiss to Sophia’s forehead.

Although every muscle in her body ached and she was completely raw between the legs, Sophia could not bear the thought of leaving the hunting lodge. Panic welled every time she thought about putting that horrid wedding gown back on. But since it was the only garment she had to wear, she had no choice. Partly, she feared where they would go. To Jack’s house?

How could she go there and pretend to be his wife when she was merely a mistress? Knowing Lady Hilda would be moving in and taking her place as Lady Stafford caused a knot to well in Sophia’s throat. She’d thought she resigned herself to the fact that he was promised to another—but accepting a situation and liking a situation were two different things.

“We’ve no food,” Jack said as he slipped his shirt over his head. Standing in his bare feet and wearing nothing but his breeches and voluminous white shirt, Sophia found him more handsome than ever.

“I…I can’t wear
that
,” she said pointing to the heap of fabric that was her wedding gown.

Jack looked at the pile of rainwater stained cloth and then back at her. “What if I give you two more days?”

Heedless of her own nudity, she bolted upright in the bed. “Would you?”

He crossed the short distance to her and reached out to caress one of her breasts. “I can go and gather a few provisions and something for you to wear. Would that please you?”

She climbed onto her knees and embraced him. “Yes! Oh yes!”

His mouth sought hers and his hands roamed over her back and down over her buttocks. Sophia melted in his embrace, opening her lips to his intruding tongue. She moaned into his mouth. Joy filled her. Two more days! She could scarcely believe it. No one had ever treated her so well.

He tore his mouth from hers. “I ought to tie you up and fill your bum up with that cattail while I’m gone.”

She clenched at the thought of it. “How long will you be gone?”

“No more than a couple of hours,” he told her.

“I have a better idea,” she told him. “I will bathe while you are gone and await your return. Then you can bend me over your knee and punish me thoroughly.”

His hand covered hers and he pushed it over his burgeoning arousal. “Look what you’ve done. I won’t survive two more days here with you.”

She gave him a squeeze before guiding his hand between her own legs where she knew she’d grown wet for him. “Look what you’ve done to me,” she said coquettishly.

He hooked one hand under her leg and pulled her down on her back before he undid the fall of his breeches. Sophia sighed happily as he dragged her to the edge of the bed and plunged into her.

He was not gentle. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, holding her thighs open wide for his frenzied assault. The muscles in his jaw clenched. Perspiration beaded on his upper lip. His gaze fixed on the place where they were connected. He pummeled her, hard and fast, his thrusts forcing the air from her lungs.

Taking charge of her own pleasure, Sophia found her clitoris and she rubbed furiously until the spasms racked her body and she heard herself crying his name. Still wresting the last shard of pleasure from her pearl, she watched through hooded lids as he withdrew and jacked his cock, spewing a shimmering ribbon of semen onto her belly.

Breathing heavily, he leaned on the bed. “Damn, woman!” he gasped. “I love watching you touch yourself.” He blew out a breath and grinned.

Sophia pushed herself back in the bed and then crawled under the covers. If he was going to be away for two hours, a nap would make the time go by far faster.

Jack eyed her as he did up his breeches. “You’ll be the death of me,” he teased and then his face grew serious. “Do you know how to fire a pistol?”

“Me?” she asked. “No.”

He lifted the flintlock pistol he’d placed on a shelf. “This is loaded and packed. You have only to aim and pull back the trigger,” he said as he put it on the table beside the bed.

Sophia gaped. “Surely I won’t be needing it.”

“I don’t expect anyone to trespass on Stafford lands but a stray hunter or two pass through on occasion. While they would not tangle with me, I don’t know what they’d do upon finding an alluring and naked woman all alone.” His expression softened as if he realized he’d frightened her. “Not to worry, love. This lodge is well hidden. You will be safe here.”

She nodded.

“Are you certain you don’t want to accompany me back to the manor? I can send someone to London to procure an apartment for you straightaway,” he said.

“No!” she said, clamoring for the two days more he’d promised her.

He brushed his palm over her hair. “Very well, my pet. I will return as quickly as possible. After he tucked his shirt into his breeches, he leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead before he finished dressing. He bade her a quick farewell and then galloped away.

The tiny lodge seemed desolate without him. Already, Sophia’s heart ached. Dismally, she realized this is how she would feel every time he left her company. Even though she knew he would return shortly, she felt empty. And yet, possessing at least a tiny part of Jack was far better than being Duchess of
Wisbech
.

Maybe it didn’t matter that she would never be his wife. She would never have to perform the duties expected of a wife or worry about society any longer. Since her coming out, she’d never cared much for society, not having grasped the nuances and intricacies needed to shine. She’s much preferred the company of a good book to a gossiping girlfriend.

She closed her eyes and wiggled her toes under the covers, wondering what her future would hold. Everything had been carefully planned for her and she’d thrown it all away when she’d taken Jack’s hand and climbed into the saddle with him.

Now her destiny was uncertain but she welcomed whatever lay in store for her. As long as she was with Jack nothing else much mattered.

* * * * *

Laden with serviceable clothing for Sophia and provisions enough to last them two more days, Jack whistled to himself as his horse sauntered back down the road toward the hunting lodge. Even his manservant, dour old Hobbes, had remarked on Jack’s light mood.

He’d never felt this way before. Carefree. Smitten with the idea of stripping off his clothing and crawling back into that bed with Sophia. Darkly, he wondered what cruel twist of fate had crossed their stars. If only he’d met her before his arrangement with Lady Hilda and before Sophia’s contract with Lord
Wisbech
…

Impatient, he urged the horse on faster. Already his brain was scheming up ways to persuade Lady Hilda to cry off.

“What the devil are you thinking?” he asked himself aloud when he realized what he was doing. His horse snorted as if in response. Jack patted the animal on the neck. He was actually entertaining thoughts of marrying Sophia—imagining her as mistress of
Amberley
and the mother of his children! He shook his head as if he could dispel his wild imagination. Circumstances made a marriage to Sophia impossible. He had a responsibility to his estate, to his title. Sophia was…well, she was…