Read The Viscount's Addiction Online

Authors: Scottie Barrett

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Erotica, #Historical, #General, #Regency

The Viscount's Addiction (7 page)

BOOK: The Viscount's Addiction
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He jolted and let out a primal groan. “Don’t tease. Take all of me.”

She did not immediately obey. Once she’d started, she found she couldn’t get enough of him. From the first taste, she craved him. She had no wish to be rushed, wanting instead to explore him thoroughly. Jessie traced the slit with the tip of her tongue then drew it along the ridge on the underside.

His labored breathing gave her the cue to continue. The power of pleasing him sent a rush of sweet heat through her. Her eager mouth molded perfectly around him as if his body had been made for her.

“No more,” he said in a broken whisper.

Reluctantly, she slid her mouth the length of his cock then feathered a kiss across the slick head.

His hands were trembling when he pushed her back down on the bed. After positioning her so her feet were firmly planted on the mattress, he nudged her knees apart. His hand stroked her inner thigh, his gaze riveted to her. Her pulse raced. Yes, she definitely enjoyed having him look at her. Not a shred of modesty remained. It seemed no demand of his was too much. She opened wider for his inspection.

“Already anticipating what I want. Someone has taught you well.” There was no point in proclaiming her innocence again.

Her body trembled as his fingers skimmed lightly over her exposed nether lips. “Are you afraid of me?”

“No.”

“You’re shaking.”

“Your touch gives me pleasure.”

His lips curled into a wry smile. “My compliments to your tutor. You’ve been very well schooled.”

This stranger, her husband, pressed himself down atop her. Heat enveloped her. Even though he’d propped himself on his forearms, she felt trapped beneath the weight of him. His hand shifted to her bottom, angling her to take his straining shaft. He watched her steadily as he forced an entry. She felt too tight, too small to accommodate him. A mewl of surprise escaped her lips.

“Almost convincing,” he drawled. And then with one achingly hard thrust, he impaled her completely. She bit her lip to stifle her cry. He stilled his movements. His violet eyes assessed her. “I’ll be damned.”

“More than likely.” Her voice cracked with desire, diminishing, she was sure, the impact of her taunt. It felt incredible to feel the heaviness of him atop her at the same time she held him so deep and thick inside her.

He raised himself up on his arms, and the tips of his long black hair brushed gently against her face. With deliberate slowness, he moved back and forth inside her. The pain

had diminished, and she reveled in the delirious friction he was creating. Now that he no longer supported her bottom, she lifted her hips toward his instinctually, trying to absorb the full impact of his thrusts.

He stared down at her. “Why do you have to be so beautiful?”

Jessie wrapped her legs around him, squeezing him tighter with each movement. Her hands gripped his muscular arms. She was clinging to him for dear life, contracting every intimate muscle.

Blackwood’s movements became more reckless, his rhythm quickened, his hot solid shaft slamming into her. She closed her eyes, her head dizzy with pleasure. His open mouth clamped over hers, catching her scream. And then he pulled out of her, spilling his seed onto her abdomen. His body shuddering, he collapsed over her. She let her hands drop away and her legs fall open. She resisted the urge to hug him tightly to her, to stroke his glossy hair. Clearly, he felt her dismissal of him and rolled off of her. The cool air chilled her abandoned body. A single tear dripped down her face, wetting the pillow. A whole month of this loveless intimacy and surely her heart would shatter.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he said as he stared up at the ceiling.

“I had no reason to lie about it.” She swung her legs over the bed and stood. Her legs felt wobbly as she walked to the ewer stand. She dipped a cloth in the water and washed herself.

“It was just your story about the plowmen. And you gave yourself so freely to me.” “I may have been a virgin, but I am not naïve. When my father was alive we spent a

great deal of time traveling. There are people in this world who do not fear sensuality. I

can assure you, I witnessed things you’ve never even dreamed about. And legally I am wed to you, so I had no real choice except to submit.”

“Otherwise, you would not have had me. Is that it?” he asked.

“I was merely doing my wifely duty,” she lied. Coupling with him was far from a duty. She liked—no, she
loved
the look of him, the scent of him, the feel of him. She wanted badly to crawl beneath the covers and cuddle against the warmth of him.

“Then you may continue to fulfill your obligations until I am finished with you,” he said, his words harsh, exacting. He rose from the bed, grabbed his clothes and headed for the door.

His words were meant to punish. She threw the cloth into the basin; the water splashed angrily over the sides. “My lord? Is there anything special you would like me to prepare for your breakfast? Or will you just be eating opium again?”

She could see the muscles tense in his broad shoulders. He said nothing but nearly splintered the door as he slammed it behind him. To survive her wifely
obligations,
she would have to encase her emotions. For him, their sexual encounters would amount to compensation, a payment for the wrongs he’d suffered. For her, if she weren’t careful, and left her heart unguarded, these trysts could be her undoing.

Chapter Five

After a restless night, Ryder plodded down the staircase to the dining room. He could not stop thinking about the chit. Her lying little heart was wrapped in the most enticing, delectable package he’d ever had the pleasure to fuck. She smelled so sweet and tasted even sweeter. She was saucy, clever, and daring in bed. Completely addictive. But he could handle only one craving at a time. Her comments about his habit had stung, and he found himself ashamed about his dependency on opium.

Even as he berated himself, he stopped on a step and removed the amber bottle from his pocket. He hadn’t indulged since the gatehouse, but now his whole body shuddered with aches and he needed it badly. Only a few drops, he told himself. Just enough to hold him over until he could have her again.

As he neared the dining room, he could hear Lewis’s voice raised in anger.

“You were too closefisted. Had you paid for enough of the stuff, it might have put him in a permanent coma,” Lewis said all too clearly.

Ryder threw open the door. Both Lewis and Henry startled, the old man spilling his tea on the white tablecloth.

“A true shame that you didn’t spend my money better,” Ryder said dryly as he sat across from his visibly shaken cousin.

“What are you on about?” Lewis asked sullenly.

Jessie entered quietly, her arms laden with a tray of food. Her slippers whispered over the hardwood floor. The woman who eagerly spread her legs for him last night offered him a demure smile. He had to remind himself to breathe as he faced his cousin again. “Clearly, I have you three to thank for the opium provided to me in prison.”

Lewis fumbled with his napkin. “It was your own damned fault. The guards did not know how to control you. After the prison doctor gave you laudanum for a malady, they noticed how well it subdued your behavior. They considered you a dangerous character and pleaded with us to keep you supplied with a sedative.”

“It wasn’t the guards who wanted me sedated. How else could you have hoodwinked me into signing the marriage certificate? And the
malady
of which you speak was a knife in the side.”

Jessie gave a cry of surprise. He glanced up at her. The color had drained from her face, and her green eyes were huge with shock. Amazing what emotions she could feign.

Henry’s lips twisted into a macabre grin. “I’d have pushed that knife into his black heart and ripped it from his chest.”

Ryder studied Jesse. She hadn’t even flinched at Henry’s gruesome statement. He turned his attention back to his cousin. “You arranged everything so nicely, a term in prison, a knife attack, a dependence on opium.” Ryder shrugged. “Shame I spoiled it all by surviving.”

“Father, you daft fool, say something in your son’s defense.”

Henry was more concerned with arranging his bits of toast and eggs into some sort of design. His eyes appeared hollow, as if emptied of a human soul.

Lewis grunted in disgust at his father. “I had nothing to do with your arrest, and you know it.” He did not refute the other accusations.

Jessie poured Ryder’s tea with her gaze averted like an indifferent servant and not like a woman who had just been naked and on all fours mere hours ago.

“You were my alibi, Lewis. You know I wasn’t at Retscliff’s tavern that night because I was settling your debts at the gaming hell.”

Lewis’s face turned crimson.

“To save your pride, you did not testify on my behalf. And what if I’d hanged? The crown might have confiscated everything.”

“They repealed the Corruption of Blood law. We wouldn’t have been tainted by the judgment placed on your head. I believe the inheritance would have been quite secure.”

“Secure in the hands of a pathetically inept gamester? Hardly.” Lewis’s voice rose to a shriek. “I don’t have to listen to any of this.”

“And, my wretched cousin, I no longer have to provide you with a place to live. I want you out of here in a week’s time.”

Lewis gave him an incredulous look. “And where the hell am I supposed to go?”

Ryder pulled out a silver flask and poured several shots of whiskey into his tea. “You won’t have to worry about that for long. Soon you’ll be taking up residence at Newgate.

I’m sure you’ll find it as cozy as I did.” He flashed his cousin a smile before downing his tea mixture.

Lewis jumped to his feet, snatched up a dining room chair and hurled it across the room. Ryder’s first instinct was to yank Jessie into his lap to protect her, although she was in no real danger. The chair cracked against the wall at the far end of the room.

“I’ll be glad to be gone from this hellish place.” His cousin, quaking with rage, glared down at Jessie. She was still neatly tucked against Ryder, her golden hair silken against his chin. She seemed in no hurry to leave his lap.

“By the way, dearest stepsister, I have another chance to sell that damn horse. And do not dare look at me like that. You’ve had your
opportunity
to make it right. The buyer is coming this afternoon, and the beast better be sound this time, or I will personally shoot him in the head.” He stormed out.

“You are going to allow him to sell your horse?” Ryder asked.

She twisted around to face him, placing one delicate hand on his arm. “It is his horse, but I have no intention of letting Titus go anywhere.”

“His horse?”

She looked exasperated by his persistent inquiries. “I had to borrow money once from Lewis long ago, so I signed Titus over to him.”

Ryder was relieved that Lewis was too thick-witted to ask for sexual favors instead of a horse. And then he recalled Lewis’s angry words. He quirked a brow. “What did he mean you had an opportunity to make it right?”

“You do have an evil mind, sir,” she said primly.

He wasn’t wholly convinced by her answer. “Why were you so desperate for money that you actually signed your beloved Titus over to him?”

“If you must know, the money was for a headstone.” Now she truly looked upset, and he wished he hadn’t pried. “I wanted a decent marker for my mother’s grave. Satisfied?”

Tears beaded on her thick lashes. He wanted to hug her tight against his chest. What was happening to him? Reminding himself that she was nothing but a cold, calculating bitch, he wrapped his hands around her waist and plunked her down on her feet.

Jessie took a seat at the end of the table and nibbled on a piece of dry toast. She allowed the tears to trickle down her cheeks unheeded.

“Only a fool ventures there. I will not chance the witches,” Henry muttered.

“What the devil are you going on about, old man?” Ryder asked angrily.

His uncle jerked up his head. He looked surprised to see anyone else in the room. “They are gathering,” he said in a sepulchral tone and pointed a gnarled finger at Jessie.

Jessie didn’t blink an eye at Henry’s utterances. “Witches?” Ryder asked.

She dabbed some marmalade on her toast and nodded. “I’m one of them—” she hiccupped on a sob, “—but I suppose you already figured that out.”

Ryder glanced at his uncle who was now rocking back and forth and mumbling to himself. “My God, he’s raving mad,” Ryder said under his breath.

“Indeed,” she said matter-of-factly and pushed the last bite of toast between her luscious lips.

Ryder pulled the small brown bottle out of his waistcoat pocket. He shook it lightly then quickly replaced it when she gave him an admonishing look. She had an oddly moral attitude for a thief. Suddenly, he was struck by a flaw in his logic. If she were a thief and had his money at her fingertips, why did she need to sell her horse for a gravestone? Was he already trying to make excuses for her in hopes that she truly was an unwitting accomplice? Or had all his fortune already been squandered? It was time to discover the truth.

He headed into his father’s study to look at the estate’s account books. A brave thing, he thought, to pore over the ledgers while being nearly sober. He sat in the brown leather chair and ran his finger over the black singe mark left by one of his father’s cigars. The suddenness of his father’s death still pained him. He’d been told that his father, an expert shooter, had had a hunting accident. Even as a youth he’d known it to be a manufactured tale.

His gaze flicked around, taking inventory. There was a discolored rectangle on the wall where a priceless painting had once hung. The ormolu clock on the mantel was gone, along with the silver cigar box. His venal cousin had plundered the room of valuables.

With a sigh of disgust, he turned his attention to the ledgers. They were stacked neatly atop the massive walnut desk. He plucked a book from the top of the pile. As he flipped through the pages, the reality he’d feared materialized. His uncle had ruined him. Then he noticed something he hadn’t predicted. He yanked open the curtains to let in more daylight before returning to his seat. His pulse beat erratically as he drew his finger

BOOK: The Viscount's Addiction
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