Page 63 of A Gentleman's Wager
“Not this time. You get what you deserve.”
He pulled her down astride him, not seeming to mind that he went where another man had recently been. Bella rocked between the two penetrations, the one in her cunny and the infuriating one in her rear, desperately trying to find her pleasure. She’d been driven so close and then snatched away from the prize so many times now, her nerves were sluggish to respond. All her muscles were knotted too, perhaps anticipating rejection.
“You’re tense as a virgin.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Ah, Bella.” He kissed the turn of her chin. “Did I not say I’d give you satisfaction? I always keep my word.”
It was madness to even think of believing him, and yet, she couldn’t think of an instance of him being anything other than truthful.
“Come now, tangle your fists in my hair or dig your nails in my arse, and allow me to prove myself.”
What else could she do, if she wasn’t to walk away, but to comply? They began rocking together in a more meaningful way, finding a flow that lifted them both rather than set them in opposition. Such smooth sailing after so much discord lent the rhythm an additional euphoric edge. It wasn’t long before her insides turned molten. She grinned like a lunatic, listening to the rasps of his scalding breath against her ear, as if she’d won a prize. Then she was the one crooning, singing his praises right into his mouth as he savaged her lips and chin. It was a messy kiss, with no finesse to it, and no dignity, more glorious for being so desperately beastly.
His thrusts sped, hips hammering, cock hitting her in places and ways no man had ever done so before. Her past couplings had been furtive affairs, moments snatched in quiet corners at the county assembly rooms, or else lazy indolent explorations conducted in the heat of summer amidst golden waving ears of corn.
The tremors started in her legs, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her, then her hips wouldn’t obey the rhythm, trying to fit two beats into one. Bella curled her nails into his flanks. An area of pressure coalesced at the top of her skull, another deep in her belly, then they blended into an explosive whole. Her climax ripped a gasp from her throat, while her inner muscles squeezed tight around his prick. He let her fly all the way to the sun and back before he allowed his own release to consume him. She came again as he jerked, the feel of him contracting and spending inside her as hot as the devil’s backside. He kept moving and riding that wave until his cock stilled its pumping. For a moment, they rested, foreheads pressed together, panting and red cheeked as after quakes ran through them. Until, finally, he tumbled her from his lap into the haystack.
He stood to attend to his garments.
Buttons fastened, he wiped away the fine shadow of sweat from his brow, then he dug into his pocket and produced ten-and-six, which he absently scattered in her direction.
“Damn you!” Bella surged onto her feet. After what they’d just shared, how could he command such viciousness? “I’ll have Lucerne when and where I like, and you won’t stop me.”
Vaughan straightened his cravat. “Don’t be so sure. Or do you imagine he relishes the prospect of a strumpet as his betrothed?”
“More than he relishes the hangman’s noose.”
His eyes narrowed. “Take care with your words, Miss Rushdale, or do your friends command so little of your affections?”
“My friends. Are you threatening Louisa?”
“Stay away from Lucerne.”
“I won’t.” Allowing her frustration to run away from her, she stamped her foot.
“Then don’t be surprised if you get burned.” He mounted the ladder. “Vale, Miss Rushdale. Until next time.” He blew her a kiss.
-38-
Bella
“But where have you been?” Louisa asked for the third time in as many minutes. She fussed around Bella, tutting and pulling at her sodden clothing. As with the first two times, Bella gave her a noncommittal shrug.
“Everyone’s been looking for you, Bella. Lord Marlinscar was ever so worried, especially when the thunder started. Dear me, you’re soaked. I could wring your skirts.” Louisa pushed her towards the roaring fire. Bella turned her back to it, raising the clammy layers of her dress so that she could warm the backs of her legs.
After Vaughan had left her in the hayloft, she’d wandered around the gardens in a frenetic sort of agitation, trying to figure out what move she ought to make next. Best to cast the first stone rather than the last. She’d taken refuge in the willow cave when the storm descended, which had kept her mostly dry. Only the alarming way the old tree groaned and cracked when the wind got up had persuaded her out from under its shelter.
She’d not yet run back into Mark and hoped that didn’t mean he’d been dragged before Lucerne and dismissed. Would Vaughan lower himself to being so petty? She hoped not. Probably he’d rather hang the knowledge of her coquetry over her head than reveal it immediately.
“Lord Marlinscar was very concerned.”
“How very?” Bella asked, Louisa’s hints finally registering in her cold and tired brain.
Louisa jabbed her needle into her embroidery—a waistcoat with a motif of delicate flowers Bella presumed she intended to gift to Wakefield on his return. “Exceedingly. He kept pacing about, back and forth, looking at the window, looking at the door. He only stopped when the marquis scolded him, and then he accused Pennerley of being an unfeeling wretch if he didn’t care about a young lady out in that rain.”
“What did Pennerley say to that?”
