Shayla Black (29 page)

Her body all but offered itself to him as she flushed and moaned, spread her thighs wider apart and pressed herself against him. With his free hand, he nipped and caressed the peaked pebbles of her breasts. His blood roared.

Greedily, he devoured the soft, soft skin of her neck with his voracious mouth. The tangled mass of her hair streamed down her back, caught between them. He wanted to feel it on his bare body. He did not remember ever wanting anyone—or anything—the way he wanted to be inside Maddie right now. Desire spiraled into a tight, thick coil. He vowed to send her over the edge while buried deep inside her so he could feel her pulsing on his cock.

For now, he forced himself to concentrate on unraveling her with his hands.

Maddie arched and mewled against him as his fingers plundered her. She was intoxicating to feel as her pleasure mounted, climbed, teetered on the precipice. The air between them felt primitive and charged. Brock swirled his fingers around her once more—and waited.

“
Do you want it, Maddie?”

She panted, shuddered. Tensed. Then she nodded.

“
Not good enough. Tell me you want it. Ask me to give it to you.”

She drew in a deep, trembling breath and threw her head back. His fingers hovered right over her, and she wriggled her hips to take her pleasure. He curled his free arm around her to stop her.

“
There’s only one way you’ll have this climax. Ask me. Make me believe you need it.” He punctuated his demand with another caress of the little hard bud, taking her right up to the edge again.

She mewled. “Please. Please, Brock. Touch me. I need it.”

“
It or me?”

Her fingers curled into fists against the wall. “You. Please… I need you.”

The surrender in her plea, in her body, was so, so sweet. He savored it. And every time he touched her, he would bring her to this place. She might not have given him her heart yet, but she would give him her body, give it completely into his keeping again and again, until her heart followed.

He brushed his thumb over her hard nub again, circling, caressing. And she gave a low, keening cry before her entire body shuddered for long moments of bliss.

Finally, she sighed and fell still. Silently, Brock ran a palm lightly up her hip, to her waist. Her body bespoke repletion, but she tensed, and he felt anxiety creep back in.

When he turned her to face him. Her eyes were languid, heavy. If he didn’t step in soon, she would begin to feel awkward and shy. That was the last thing he wanted between them.

“
Help me out of my clothes, Maddie. I’m dying to feel your bare body against mine.”

He started by removing his coat, then his boots. Breathing hard, Maddie hesitated, then raised her trembling hands to the buttons of his shirt, gray eyes heated, face flushed from pleasure. Her willingness flamed Brock, and he unfastened his breeches.

Soon, he stood naked. Beyond ready, he yanked her chemise over her head and murmured, “I can’t wait. I must have you.”

“
Now,” she whispered.

Brock looked about. The sofa was too small. The bedroom was too far away.

With a curse, he urged her to the ground and covered her body with his, nudging her thighs apart with his own legs. When he probed between her folds with his hard cock, she lifted her hips to him in welcome. He entered her in one solid thrust.

Brock groaned aloud, deep in his chest, and threw his head back in pleasure. Maddie’s flesh around him was so swollen. She gripped him so tightly. He wanted her so damn badly...

Capturing her mouth in a blistering kiss, he surged into her again and set a brutal pace. She matched it as he hammered into her willing body, moving beneath him, all lush curves arching up to him in perfect rhythm. The heat between them smoldered. Desire lanced him like a hot blade. He’d known he ached for her, but even he was unprepared for the force of his desire.

Beneath him, she writhed and clutched at his hair, his back. She was noisy in her pleasure, and he liked that. It drove him higher. Need clawed at him. But Maddie’s breathing told him she was damn close to ecstasy.

“
Don’t hold back,” he demanded. “Let me have it.”

With a catch of breath and a long cry, Maddie’s pleasure burst, and Brock felt her grip his shaft, milk him. Sensations rushed over him, exploded. He saw black spots, felt nothing but Maddie’s soft jasmine flesh, heard her cry in his ears.

Lord, he’d never known ecstasy so perfect.

When Brock caught his breath, he peered down at Maddie. She lay limp, eyes closed, replete. He’d never seen her look so damp or rosy...or beautiful.

Finding paradise twice in the past week with her hadn’t been enough. He began to wonder if twice a night would be.

Damn! He needed to move, leave the heat of her body—and this cottage. He’d proven his point. She was his mistress, to do with as he wished. And she had responded to his touch beyond his every expectation. Staying now and making love to her again would only prove him weak.

Gritting his teeth, Brock withdrew and rose to his feet, aching for her again already. Leaving her would be more difficult than he’d ever imagined.

In silence, he donned his clothes. Quickly, Maddie scrambled about to find her chemise and her dress, refusing to look his way. She wore no expression at all when he offered to assist her with her hooks. She merely presented him her back, while attempting to restore some semblance of order to her auburn curls.

The air was thick, with an undercurrent of her anger and unspoken words. One look at her face confirmed his suspicion. She’d drawn back into herself.

Now that Maddie was dressed, she looked as proper as any well-born widow. “Were you pleased enough?”

She spat the words at him, as if he’d done her some terrible disservice. Brock lashed back.

“
Almost as pleased as you.”

Maddie blushed a deep red and drew herself up higher. “You enjoy doing your utmost to reduce my pride.”

“
No. You hate that I’m forcing you to be honest,” he countered. “I won’t let you hide from me—not your body, not your response. I expect complete candor in that area for the next one hundred seventy-nine days because your pleasure is my pleasure. I’ll want to see it wildly and often.”

Maddie donned her cloak and whirled to face him. “Must you remind me that I behaved like a whore?”

Brock grabbed her shoulders. “You behaved like a perfect mistress. Be prepared to act the same, naked, eager, and ready for me tomorrow night.”

#

The next afternoon, Maddie sat in the parlor of the one person she knew could help her: her sister-in-law, Roberta. What were her chances that Roberta would rally round her? Assuredly slim, but Maddie had to try. She was desperate. She didn’t dare repeat that joyful, humiliating surrender to Brock’s touch again.

Blast it all, she would rather ask Gavin for help. And she would have gone to her cousin if she believed for a moment he would grant her wish. Brock had made it clear, however, that, despite her warning, Gavin had chosen to stay in league with her “protector.” Clearly, money meant more than blood.

Over the preceding sleepless night, she had debated the wisdom of coming to Roberta, pride swallowed. Eventually she had decided she must sacrifice her dignity for an hour to ask a favor, albeit a large one, of a woman she had once called family. It seemed better than surrendering her pride every night for the next six months to a scoundrel who could turn her inside out with a mere touch.

“
You’ve come to
me
for money? That’s nearly a fortune!” Roberta looked both displeased and smug at once. “How have you so sorely mismanaged what Colin left you?”

“
As I’ve told you, he left me nothing but debts. Since his death, I’ve been struggling to pay his creditors. I’ve sold nearly everything that belonged to my father and used the money to pay your brother’s gentleman’s club, his tailor, his—”

“
Are you insinuating that Colin left you destitute? He was the heir to an earldom. He had money.” Roberta sent her an accusatory glare. “Are you certain you didn’t spend it?”

“
Quite certain, yes.” She gritted her teeth.

“
Colin was always excellent with his money.”

Maddie bit the inside of her lip to keep in the details she knew Roberta would neither believe in nor care about.

With this avenue closed to her, what would she do?

She rose to her feet, giving Roberta a cool smile. “I can see this was a mistake. Forgive my intrusion.”

As she made her way to the door, Roberta raced to the portal and blocked her path. “After insulting my brother’s memory, you think you can just leave as if it never happened? I’ll have your apology.”

She glared at Roberta, feeling every minute of her sleepless night. The sore muscles of her inner thighs and the lingering hum of her body reminded Maddie of last night—and all the nights that lay ahead of her as Brock’s mistress. He could melt her body and empty her mind, almost instantly. If she wasn’t careful, he’d steal her very soul.

Anger and hopelessness welled up inside Maddie. Roberta had always been silly and vain. Now Maddie could add deluded to the list as well.

“
You never saw your brother as he was. He enjoyed more than his share of gaming. And he spent a great deal on other women. The only things he left me were a mountain of debts and a cottage in which he kept his mistresses.”

“
Colin would not have needed solace elsewhere if you had been more…receptive,” Roberta shot back.

Maddie reared back. Colin had told his sister that he found her cold?

She pushed past Roberta. “Forget I came here.”

Before she could make her way out, Roberta’s bird-like hands found Maddie’s wrist and stopped her short. “Do not insult my brother again. And do not darken my door until you can admit that you did not deserve such a wonderful man.”

Maddie wanted to shout that Roberta hadn’t truly known the “wonderful man” she blindly worshipped, but clearly she would never believe that Colin had been cruel.

“
Then we shall not be seeing one another again,” Maddie replied crisply, then yanked her wrist free. “Goodbye.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Across Ashdown Manor’s candlelit burgundy-and brown-shaded dining room, Maddie stared at the bright smile Brock sent Aunt Edith. Its brilliance dazzled and infuriated her.

“
What is India like, Mrs. Bickham?” Brock asked the older woman, seemingly enthralled.

“
Hot!” Edith laughed, the little posies on her yellow and green hat bobbing about a collection of flowers. “And dusty. Oh my word! But the wilds are lovely, and I adored...”

Maddie ceased listening to her aunt and tried to focus on her current problem: the man sitting across her table.

The remnants of dinner lay between them, and still Maddie had spoken no more than two words to the blackguard who wanted her land and her body. She still could hardly believe Aunt Edith had invited him to dinner.

But Maddie was also shamefully aware that she’d hardly taken her eyes off of Brock all evening. Since she had become his mistress and they’d shared that stunning evening together on the floor, Maddie had spent another two nights in his arms. Each time she’d sought to resist him, Brock had reminded her of her obligation—just before he unraveled her with his touch, making her pant and mewl and plead. Heat suffused her skin just thinking about those sensual hours.

The first night, Brock had carried her silently to the little bed and undressed her. He had instructed her to undress him. Her heart had been beating, her limbs trembling. She had sighed when he’d kissed her, then moaned when he’d suckled her breasts to stiff peaks. Perspiration had heated her when he’d curled her fingers around his shaft and shown her how to stroke him. She’d felt sublimely boneless when he brought her to orgasm with his mouth, then again as they had joined. And again closer to dawn.

Come morning, she’d been furious with herself for succumbing and allowing the pleasure he gave her during those pleasure-filled hours to burn away the haze of her anger.

Last night had been no less consuming. He removed everything except her stockings. He had been too impatient to find the bed. Rather, Brock had led her to the sofa, then taken her on it after he’d urged her to straddle his lap. At his instruction, she had fed him her breasts—and he’d feasted slowly, lapping, nipping, making her completely wanton. She heated thinking about that—and what came next.

Brock had driven her wild as he had impaled her with his thick staff. The Milk and Water Embrace—she remembered that from the
Kama Sutra
. The description alone had made her blush. The reality had been a thousand times more staggering.

He had let her set the pace. The freedom and the power had been heady, and as with everything else, Brock used that to his advantage. After her first orgasm, when she was beyond protest, he took control again and drove her to a second bone-melting explosion.