Carnal Knowledge Ch. 11-12

No, he wouldn't believe it of her, he decided firmly. He had seen with his own eyes how genuine and ladylike she appeared. None of it was her fault if Rockdale had truly forced himself upon her like some great rutting beast.

The very idea of her losing her maidenhead in such a fashion sickened him and roused his protective, chivalrous instincts.

He needed to devise a way to wrest the young lady from the earl's clutches. John snorted a bit at his own dramatic turn of phrase but resolved himself just the same. It wasn't right for Miss Lockhart to be treated in such a depraved manner, even if that gentleman was a member of the aristocracy.

She deserved better, he vowed, climbing back into his bed. He closed his eyes and studiously tried to avoid thinking of his still erect cock and what it would feel like to truly thrust it between Miss Lockhart's soft intimate folds.

"If I have to dream it again, just don't make me wake up this time," he mumbled to his pillow.

***

It seemed Rockdale could not remove her from Sinclair's manor house fast enough.

Eliza practically had to trot to keep up with him, and he refused to release her arm even after they climbed into the carriage. Feeling sick to her stomach, she longed to crawl into the corner and try to forget the entire evening.

She could feel the tense set of his body and half-expected him to erupt in a fury at any moment. Dear Lord. Had she really done all those scandalous acts tonight? First, cavorting with Rockdale in complete abandon in front of who knew how many voyeuristic observers, then her savage interlude with Sir Harold—this she didn't regret—followed by her half-witted participation in Violet's silly farce.

Perhaps another woman really had taken over her body tonight.

Rockdale seemed lost in his own thoughts, and the trip back to the townhouse was strangely quiet. Eliza opened her mouth several times, but somehow could not produce any suitable words to say.

She studied his profile, the haughty curve of cheek, the hard jaw and sensual mouth. The mere memory of those masculine lips tracing her skin sent a fine tremor of sensation up her neck, raising the fine hairs along her nape.

At times she felt captured like a hapless insect, snared in his deceptively delicate web spun of newfound sensual sensations and physical pleasures. The more she struggled to extract herself, the more intertwined and bound she became. It was all too simple to see herself helplessly addicted to the dark seduction of his smile that seemed to beckon to her with all the countless secrets of men and women that her body clamored to know.

Eliza tried in vain to focus instead on the memory of her mother's dear face. Nothing but heartache and regret could come from allowing herself to give into these unseemly desires. She needed—no—she must remember the reasons she had come to be in the earl's employ. Her family was relying on her for support, and their livelihood must be her only motivation.

She swallowed hard and ignored the troubling twinge of fear that like Pandora, once she had unsealed the container and loosed the myriad of evils it held, nothing could be undone.

But desires could be ignored. They could be repressed. She shivered, grateful that Rockdale harbored no real feelings for her. It would be easier to harden her resolve to escape him as soon as possible. And escape him she would, anything else was unthinkable.

The mood between them remained uncertain as Rockdale ushered her upstairs to the bedchamber where she had rested and gotten dressed earlier. It had only been a matter of hours, but yet it felt to Eliza as though days had gone by.

Ill at ease, Eliza slipped out of her cloak and hung it on a peg near the door, unsure of how to proceed. The earl had yet to speak a single word to her. She watched him out of the corner of her eye with wariness when he sat heavily on the bed. His head bowed down, she saw his shoulders begin to inexplicably quiver.

Good heavens. Eliza's eyes widened in alarm. Surely, he could not be...

One hand covered his mouth while his big body continued to shake. A few strangled noises escaped.

Eliza took one step closer then another. "William?" she asked hesitantly, reaching out to touch him.

He finally lowered his hand, took one look at her and guffawed out loud.

Shock froze her abruptly in place. "Are you... Are you laughing? "

He collapsed into whoops of laughter, clutching at his stomach.

"I keep picturing the look of horror on Harry's face when you viciously ripped open his smallclothes...and...and then when you paddled the hell out of that poor chap's bum..." he dissolved again into mirth, snorting helplessly.

"I believe you have finally taken complete leave of your senses." She pursed her lips and spun away.

Bloody idiotic man, she fumed.

He grabbed her skirt and reeled her back. "Oh, no, you don't," he said, still chuckling.

The earl tumbled her down into his lap and wiped at his eyes. "I can't remember when I've laughed so hard."

She eyed him with baleful reproach. "I'm overjoyed I could amuse you."

***

William grinned unrepentantly. "Eliza, my dove, you never cease to surprise me that is for certain." He felt her stiffen in surprise when he wrapped an arm tightly around her.

He cupped her cheek, marveling how one small female could be both so fair and so brave. At times, she stole his breath clear away. He found himself wondering briefly how it would feel to be included with all that fierce loyalty she displayed for her family.

"Eliza..." he murmured, stroking the soft, pale skin of her lovely face. It hovered right on his tongue to demand that she become his mistress and stay with him. How could he ever let her go?

But uncertainty and even a bit of distrust lurked in the depths of her deep blue eyes as she gazed back at him. He felt almost certain she would refuse his offer of carte blanche, and part of him feared he may even beg should she say no.

A small voice in the back of his mind shouted at him to take her however he would, find a way to force her to stay. Yours, it insisted. She is yours!

"Why are you looking at me that way?"

Her question jerked him from his internal debate. He shifted—one of his legs was tingling and beginning to fall asleep—but he was loath to release her.

"Truthfully, I am feeling rather odd," he admitted.

She frowned, her expression puzzled. "Is something wrong? Are you unwell?"

"No, not unwell." William paused, opened his mouth then closed it again. "To be honest, I feel strangely...happy," he said and snapped his mouth shut again, feeling ridiculous for spouting something so inane.

But her eyes unexpectedly softened at his blurted words, and something warm and unfamiliar bloomed to life in his chest. Perhaps he was unwell in the head.

"You say it like you've never been happy before."

"I'm not sure that I have," he replied slowly.

Silence stretched between them for a moment or two, not quite awkward while they continued to stare at one another. The thudding of his heart seemed abnormally loud in the quiet.

"That seems a little sad," she said at last.

"Yes," he agreed somberly. "I suppose it is."

They regarded one another for another moment, and he saw something shift in her expression.

"You're an odd man, William Grayson," she murmured.

"And not a good one, either, I'm afraid." He stared at her broodingly. "Do you hate me for what I've done to you?"

She pondered that a moment then sighed. "I should... I want to."

"But you don't." One corner of his mouth quirked up. He leaned close. "It's my irrepressible charm, I suppose."

"It would be easier if I did hate you." She raised one hand and gently touched his jaw.

He fought the urge to turn into her slight caress and tumble her into the bed. A savage need to cover her body with his own had settled into his blood, into his bones, into the very essence of his body. But he held himself still and waited, almost daring not to breathe when her fingertips trailed across his lips.

Her face held an expression he couldn't decipher, and he struggled not to groan while she traced the shapes of his cheeks and eyes. The first touch of her lips to his own felt tentative and light as though rose petals had brushed across his mouth.

He shivered and fisted his hands in the gossamer folds of her dress. Eliza's kiss deepened, and the first slide of her tongue along his bottom lip sent an almost painful rush of blood to his stiffening cock. Christ. An urgent desire to claim her warred with his delight in having her touch him of her own free will.

Beads of fine sweat gathered on his forehead when she rested her hands on his shoulders and pushed her tongue into his open mouth. Desperately, he lapped at her sweetness, dueling and twining his tongue with hers, kissing her back with all the unfamiliar, unsaid feelings he held inside.

Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop. The litany repeated in his head, barely kept from being spoken aloud.

She finally lifted her head, and his cock pulsed eagerly when she licked her lips, appearing to savor his taste. His willpower frayed, and he flopped backward onto the bed.

"Mistress," he purred. "I am at your mercy."

Her lips twitched. "Is that so?"

"Yes, and I'm actually rather relieved you had no pocket to smuggle out that wooden paddle," he said, grinning impishly.

She burst into husky laughter, and the strange, warm feeling blossomed to life in his chest once more.

Eliza eased off his lap, and he quickly shucked his jacket and shirt and repositioned himself on the bed, with his head lying on the pillow. He gazed up at her and slowly raised his arms to grasp the large wooden headboard, unsure what her response would be but desperate to have her hands on his body once more.

She rose from the bed, and disappointment surged through him. But it turned to heady elation when she removed her gown and jewelry and turned back to him in all her glorious naked glory.

"If anyone ever needed punishment, it would be you," she informed him dryly.

He smirked at her and gripped the headboard tighter, watching her eyes follow the play of his muscles.

"Show me the error of my wicked ways, mistress," he coaxed, his gaze hungrily traveling her curves while she climbed back onto the bed and inched closer.

"Good heavens. That could take weeks, months, possibly years."

"Cheeky baggage." William groaned when her hand brushed his groin; the rigid length of his cock strained against the confines of his trousers. His eyes drifted closed for a moment at the tentative stroke of her palm over the sensitive head of his staff.

Near panting with need, he opened his eyes and focused on her face. "I'd be your willing sexual slave any time you desire," he murmured, nearly weeping with relief when she undid the buttons of his trousers to release his cock.

Her expression was half amused and half disbelieving. "And you'd kneel down for me, I suppose?"

"Darling, I'd kneel down for you whenever you wish as long as your sweet cunt was there to shove my face into and lick. Come put your little arse over my face, and I'll demonstrate for you."

She froze for a fraction of a second. "You're rather commanding for someone who's supposed to be my willing slave."

"Just offering suggestions, mistress."

His hips arched off the bed when she leaned over and blew her warm breath over his bare groin. The sweet torture was almost more than he could stand. She glided her soft lips over his overheated flesh in slight nibbles that built to lazy flicks of her tongue.

He groaned at the first feel of her open mouth lightly suckling at the head of his cock. It was far too much and not nearly enough at the same time. Almost of its own volition his arm released the headboard to push her head down onto his cock.

Eliza immediately lifted her head. "Keep your hands over your head."

He narrowed his eyes. "You're a cruel mistress."

"Don't make me get my hairbrush," she said silkily. "It's not a paddle, but I think I can achieve similar results."

His eyes widened in surprise, and he snorted with laughter that shook the whole bed frame. "I'm a bit frightened actually."

Then her lovely pink mouth enveloped his cock once more and none of it mattered. She hummed her pleasure over him, taking him deeper, and his eyes rolled back as he struggled to not erupt too soon. Her hand wrapped around his base, aiding her ministrations, and he gritted his teeth, sure his grip on the wooden frame would cause it splinter any moment.

His hips thrust ineffectually upward when she backed off and swirled her tongue under the swollen head of his cock.

"Jesus, Eliza," he choked.

She smiled and pressed small kisses along his shaft before abandoning his aching groin to pull his trousers the rest of the way off.

He was momentarily arrested by the sight of her crawling over his body, straddling his hips so that his cock nestled between her legs. Her heat and her wetness slid tantalizingly along his stiff length.

"Let me touch you." His breath turned ragged when her breasts pressed against his chest, and she leaned in to lick along his neck.

"No," she whispered in his ear, biting down hard on his lobe unexpectedly.

He flinched, and his cock jumped. Damn it all! She had him lurching and quaking like a virgin schoolboy. Her tongue discovered the shape of his ear, and he shuddered.

"I can feel you throbbing between my legs," she said, her voice low and breathy.

"Let me inside you," he urged hoarsely, feeling he might go mad with need of her and the sweet clasp of her quim that hovered so tantalizingly close.

She moved her hips so that he slid against and through her slick, velvety folds, rocking against him. He felt her breath quicken, heard her soft moans as she rubbed herself on his cock.

His whole body burned with a fevered desire. Her hair, now partially loose from its pins, cascaded down over him, twining and twisting sinuously around his chest and arms like the sweetest of bindings. A high-pitched mew of female arousal slid from her lips into his ear, and quite suddenly his control snapped like a taut string stretched too tightly.

In an instant, he had her pinned beneath him, their positions reversed in the space of her indrawn breath of surprise. He shoved her thighs wider to accommodate his weight, smiling with grim satisfaction when she gasped and squirmed against the push of his cock breeching her quim.

"I thought you were at my mercy!" she protested, arching her back when his hands settled possessively over her breasts.

He shoved the entire length of his cock inside her with one relentless thrust, and she squealed.

"Playtime is over," he growled, his gravelly voice almost unrecognizable to his own ears. "Now you're bloody well going to get fucked."

Thoughts of skill and finesse fled, and his entire world narrowed down to the feel of her naked skin and soft curves, the muscles of her tight cunt gripping his cock, the overwhelming need to shove as much of himself inside her as humanly possible.

So tight.

So hot.

Little moans and sighs bubbled from her lips, enflaming him even more. He hooked his hands behind her knees and pushed them toward her head, penetrating her in long, deep strokes. Her inner passage bathed his cock in a heavenly molten embrace.

Fucking her once or twice should have been enough to rid him of this weakening need to have her. It should have been enough! His hands slid upward to fist in her hair, holding her in place for the assault of his open mouth. He devoured her parted lips with all of the confusion and pent-up emotion coursing through him.

She kissed him back with equal fiery abandon, her arms wrapped tight around him. He could feel the sting of her nails scoring his skin, and dimly, in a corner of his mind still managing to function rationally, he was amazed that she could find any gratification in his frenzied invasion of her body.

Little wonder he craved her with an incessant urgency.

He pushed up to kneel back on his haunches between her splayed legs. Sliding his hands under the cheeks of her arse, he lifted her hips, spreading her even wider, riveted to the sight of his cock plunging inside her.

"You're not so good either, are you, Eliza?"

***

His demanded question startled her out of the sexual haze that held her in thrall.

"You love this," he continued, sweat dripping off his brow. He brushed his thumb over her sensitive pearl, causing her to gasp and arch up off the bed. "You like my cock filling you up so tight, fucking you."

She did. Oh God, how she did love it. Her hips bucked in his grasp when his thumb leisurely circled her most sensitive spot.

"Say it." His voice was rough and dark.

He had pulled back and was barely penetrating her now. She whimpered, needing more contact.

"Please...William...please, I need," she panted.

"Say it, Eliza."

Damn him! She wanted to sob with frustration. "Yes! Yes, I love your cock fucking me. God help me, but I love it. Now, give me more, damn you!"

He obliged her with alacrity, his body covering hers once more, hips hammering into her softness with a fierce, unrelenting rhythm. Sweat and heat fused their bodies into one. Words of need and desire and praise babbled from his lips and hers.

She sobbed and writhed beneath him as her body convulsed in explosive orgasm. He shuddered atop her, the rasp of his hot breath loud in her ear when he pumped his own release inside her soon after.

The limp weight covering her was considerable, and her arms and legs were still wrapped around his body, oddly reluctant to release him. She could feel the galloping of his heart and his breaths ruffling her hair near her ear.

William finally rolled to one side with a grunt, keeping her flush against him, her leg thrown over his hip. His hands continued to roam her body, and she wondered groggily if they would ever be sated of this powerful desire of the flesh.

He leaned in and slowly, tenderly covered her mouth with his own, kissing her as though she was the most precious thing on the earth. Gently and reverently. There was a slight tremor in his hand when he smoothed a tangled mass of curls away from her face.

Her heart clenched, and her eyes burned with a prickling of tears. She had no defense against this man who no longer seemed so much like a peer of the realm, but more like her lover, William. A big muscular male with rumpled dark hair and soft eyes, whose body was so entwined with hers, she wasn't sure where she started and he began. His cock, though softened somewhat, remained inside her.

His hand found hers and linked their fingers.

She drew a shuddering breath. "William," she began, unsure of what she even intended to say. Fatigue weighted her eyelids. She struggled with the tumbled thoughts crossing her mind. She needed to wash. Her hairpins were scattered in the bed—she could feel one jabbing her in the arm. It felt strange to lie on top of the bed coverings, surely they were soiling them. It was chilly in the room, but William's body seemed to hold a furnace of warmth.

"Stop thinking," he whispered. "Just lie with me."

Just lie with me.

Just love me, her mind wanted to plead.

No, not love, never love.

"Can't," she murmured, burrowing her head into the pillow of his chest.

"You can." His rumbled answer was the last thing she heard before sleep claimed her.