Page 35 of When the Marquess Needed Me (The Rake Chronicles #4)

Chapter Thirty-Three

L eith was still panting from the exertion of choking Mr. Gordstone. His blood was raging—and, with Beatrice in his arms, his cock hard. He had grown used to bedding her frequently and so, after the omission of last night, he was newly sensitive.

He had been worried that she would react badly to his interference. But he had been unable to tolerate that man speaking to her that way. This grasping, greedy, malignant man had no right to address his Beatrice, so honorable and generous, with such cruel words. Nor threaten her mother, who clearly wanted nothing of his suit.

“I can’t let you pay the debt,” Beatrice murmured, looking up at him, her dark eyes still swimming with tears. “It wouldn’t be right. It is too much.”

Truthfully, Leith saw no other way that the money would get paid. But he saw no point in arguing the point with her now. Not when he hoped no money would have to be expended on this excuse for a man.

“Let us not worry about it now,” he said softly. “It will take many days for the money to come. And, in the meantime, I hope that we may discover another way.”

“I will find a solution,” she said, miserably. In response, he merely brought her close again. She was so proud, he thought, and so strong. She wanted to control all aspects of her life, he realized, because she was afraid of being hurt. He understood it well, because that was how he had been. Before she had helped him.

“Come here,” he said, tipping her head up and kissing her. He did not want to quarrel with her. He did not doubt her abilities, but he saw no way that this little estate, while quite lovely, would ever give her ten thousand pounds in so short a time. She would have to accept the help of someone, in one way or another.

She responded to his kiss with a little grateful moan.

“We can’t. Not here. Come with me,” she said, taking his hand.

She led him out into the hall and towards the stairs, both of which were blessedly empty. They climbed the stairs and found the door to her room.

“Everyone else is out, I believe,” she whispered.

Then they were safely ensconced back in her bedroom.

He closed the door and then turned the key. Then turned back round to face her.

“Can we? Please?” he asked.

She nodded, rapidly, her face still wet from tears, but her eyes shining with what he now recognized as desire.

He kissed her once more, plumbing her mouth with his tongue, desperate to have her. She met him with equal passion, but it wasn’t enough.

Leith bunched her skirts in his hand. “I need this. Off.”

“Help me,” she said, turning to expose the buttons on her back. He made quick work of them, peeling off her dress and petticoat, until she was only in her shift. He brought the thin material over her head and then gloried in her bare form before him. Pert, succulent nipples; her breasts that were just a little too large for her frame; and the thatch of curls between her legs—all of her was so beautiful to him.

He pushed her backwards so that she was seated on a small bureau and kissed her hungrily, not having the patience to be gentle, and sensing that she didn’t want hesitancy, either. Luckily, the bureau was at the perfect height for them to join.

With trembling, rapid fingers, she undid the falls of his pants and grasped his cock, hard beyond belief and already leaking seed.

He palmed her breasts as she fondled him, hissing at the joint sensation. Then he moved his hand down to her core and teased her, bringing his fingers in and out of her, over that spot inside of her that he knew was the key to her undoing.

He had learned, in the time he had spent with her, how to arouse her without making her spend.

“I know what you are doing,” she said, looking up at him. “I don’t know how you manage it.”

He didn’t know, either. It was simply knowing her, he supposed, and the little touches that would be too much and the ones that would be just enough.

“I need you indecently wet for me. That’s the only state I want you in. Only when you are dripping for me, Beatrice, will I let you have my cock.”

Leith didn’t know when he had become so bold. Sometime around when he had fallen in love with her, he expected.

“I—I am—ready,” she panted.

“No, not yet,” he said, even though she was sliding on his fingers.

“I want to come, please. I am so close. I’ve never felt this before.”

She was used to being sated easily, as she had once told him. But he had discovered that what she needed was a man who knew how to draw it out.

“Not yet,” he said, moving his fingertips out of her, away from where she was most sensitive, and towards her clit.

She let out a little whining sound, but he paid it no heed.

He got down on his knees and put his mouth to her core.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed as he teased her clit with his tongue. “Please. I need it.”

He did not obey, continuing to tease her, and then only when her fingers were fisted in his hair, did he move to tongue her channel. But then he only did so gently, conscious of not overwhelming her.

“Sweet Lord. Please, Thomas.”

He gave her a little more, as reward for her begging.

She let out an exclamation that had him hoping the doors were thick.

“I am so close. Please. I beg you. I need you, Thomas. Please.”

He withdrew his mouth. She let out a cry of pure affront.

“You need a man who will tease you, Beatrice. Who won’t let you have your spend all at once. No other man has done that for you, has he?”

“No,” she sobbed. He put his mouth back on her and gave her what he knew she wanted: his tongue stroking that spot inside of her. “Oh God, it’s so good.”

“Tell me you need me again,” he said, withdrawing once more. “Tell me.”

He placed his mouth back on her and she cried out.

“I need you. I need you,” she said. “So much, please.”

Leith couldn’t deny her anymore. Any more of her desperate words and he would be coming himself.

He stroked her in the way that he knew would undo her and she cried out, spasming over his tongue.

When she was done riding her pleasure, he stood and surveyed her on the bureau. She was still in her stockings, but other than that she was bare. Her skin was flushed with pleasure and her eyes had a glazed, contented look.

She was the woman he loved, sated from his lovemaking.

There could be no better sight in the world.

She smiled at him. “That was very nice.”

“Mm,” he said, contented with her praise. “Was it, now?”

“Yes, very much so. The only question that remains is what we should do with this.”

She moved her hand down to his cock, which jumped eagerly at her touch.

“Would you like me to use my mouth? Or shall you enter me?”

“I esteem your mouth very highly. But I want to be inside you, Beatrice.”

“Then take me.”

He needed no further encouragement. He took her legs in his hands and positioned her so that he could enter her with ease.

When he entered her wet tightness, he had to bite back a curse.

He thrust into her and then withdrew, glorying in the tug of her sheath on his cock.

“Now tell me what else you want,” she said.

He smiled. “I can want nothing else in this life than this.”

She laughed. “No, surely, there must be something I can add.”

“To you, naked on your own bureau, my cock inside of you? I am afraid it is impossible.”

As he said the words, he pumped in and out of her faster, and he heard her breath catch.

“What if I put my hand on your arse? As I did the other night?”

A strange feeling inside of him stirred. He had enjoyed that. Greatly.

“Yes, please.”

She did so, massaging his buttock and then using that extra purchase to help bring him in and out of her.

But, as she did so, he realized that he did want something else. And, for reasons that he did not want to examine too closely, while he had managed to forget about French letters, he had not forgotten about these particular items. Although he was only bold enough to bring one to her attention right now.

“Beatrice…”

“What?” she said looking up at him.

“Remember the shop…?”

Her eyes lit up. “You brought yours? From London?”

He nodded.

“Do you want to use it?”

“Yes.”

“Then by all means.”

He staggered through the doorway to his chamber and found his trunk. After a moment, he had located the object and brought it back to her.

Her eyes went wide when she saw it.

“Do you want to use it on me? Or shall I use it on you?”

He had not thought of the first. He had only been able to think of the second.

“On—on me.”

“How?”

“I—I am not sure.”

“Give it here,” she said, holding out her hand.

So he handed over the riding crop.

It was only a small crop, very similar to the type that he had seen made for ladies. And for reasons that he couldn’t understand, he very much wanted her to use it on him.

“Put your hands on the bureau.”

He walked towards the bureau and put his hands on it, his back to her.

“You must tell me what you like,” she said. “I’ve never done this before.”

Then he felt the leather of the crop going down his back and landing on his arse.

At first, she gave him a little tap.

“Harder,” he said, immediately, aware that he wanted more.

She did it again and this time he felt a sting where the leather landed.

“More,” he said.

She obeyed and struck with more force, the sound making a satisfying slap across the room. He winced at the pain. “That is perfect.”

His cock was in a state of acute alert. He wanted to touch himself. He was so aroused from the scenario unfolding that he could come quickly.

“Don’t touch yourself,” she said, as if reading his mind. “You need your punishment first.”

He whimpered.

“I will give you five lashes. And then you may get your reward.”

She hit him once more and he cried out, the sweetness and the pain melding together. His cock leaked seed onto the floor.

“If you come, I’ll only have to punish you more,” she warned. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he moaned.

She hit him again with the crop, a little harder this time, and he moaned, his spend threatening with a keenness he had not anticipated. And then she did it again and he was utterly desperate.

Once more she brought the crop down and he came, just a little, on the floor.

“Beatrice, it’s so good,” he moaned. “I am going to come, my love. I am sorry.”

“No, you won’t,” she said. “You will be a good boy and listen to me. If you spend, I won’t give you what you want. Do you agree?”

“Yes, dear God. I won’t spend.”

She hit him again, the hardest she had yet done, and he stifled his shout, aware that he had to maintain some discretion. He leaked more seed but he succeeded—using all of his powers—in not spending.

“Excellent,” she said, walking over to him. “Now I want you inside of me.”

“Beatrice—”

“You will listen to me. You will do as I say.”

She returned to her sitting position on the bureau.

“Enter me.”

He obeyed her, once more dipping into her sweet slickness. She was, somehow, even wetter than she had been before. It seemed that she was enjoying his request.

And she still had the riding crop in one hand.

She brought it down on his arse again. He startled and drove deeper inside of her, the slick feel of her now added to the sting of the crop.

“Ahhh, Beatrice,” he warned. “I am very close.”

He feared that he would be unable to withdraw.

“Very good,” she said. “That’s what I want to hear, Thomas. As I said, you would get your reward, if you withstood your lashes.”

She hit again with the crop, which caused him to sink deeper into her once more.

“Beatrice, I am going to spend. I should withdraw.”

But she paid him no heed. She brought the crop down on him again and he came, instantly, upon contact. He filled her sweet pussy with his seed, spilling deep inside of her. She cried out, too, and he realized that she was following him. Her muscles contracted over his cock and only drew more seed from him.

“Fuck,” he swore, drawing himself out of her, even as he continued to spill.

She dropped the crop and her hands went over her mouth.

“Thomas, I am so sorry!” she exclaimed.

He turned away from her, ashamed of his loss of control.

“No, it is my fault.”

“No, no, it isn’t,” she said, rounding him and putting her hands on his hands. “You warned me. It is my fault.”

“You didn’t want this—you asked me to take care.”

She shook her head. “It is just one time. One mistake. On my part. It is unlikely to result in any consequence.”

“You can’t know that.”

“It is my fault. I got carried away. I never knew—how much I would like that.”

He sighed. “If there are consequences, I will take care of you.”

“I know you will.”

“No, Beatrice, not just with money. I will marry you.”

She gave him a long look. “You cannot mean that. Marrying me—it would be a scandal.”

“I don’t care about that,” he said, taking her in his arms. “I will marry you, if there is a child, or if there isn’t one. I just want you. Forever.”

He had known he felt this way when he had declared his intentions to her brother, even though he had known that she thought he hadn’t meant it. He had meant to ease into the topic, to perhaps wait until they returned to London, and she knew him better, before making any declaration.

But his own body had forced his hand—his body and Beatrice with a riding crop.

It was, really, rather ridiculous.

“Thank you,” she said. “I am not sure. I need to think about it. About everything. With my mother and Mr. Gordstone—”

“Shh,” he said. “Don’t answer now. I only want you to think of it.”

They had plenty of time, he reasoned, and he was in no rush.

As long as he didn’t lose her, as long as he got to keep holding her like this, he was content to wait.