Thea Devine - Captivated

"Evie."

"Master?"

"Do her hands now."

"What…?!" She was holding a cup and a biscuit, but Evie paid no mind; she grasped each wrist, and as the cup and biscuit fell to the floor, Evie firmly pulled her hands behind her and wound a satin tie around them.

"Thank you, Evie."

He watched through hooded eyes as Evie left them, firmly closing the door behind her; and then he turned his attention to Drue.

"Yes…" he murmured. "Perfect."

Perfect the way her body arched and her breasts thrust forward because of her bound hands. Perfect how she had to press down against the fabric of the bench to keep her balance and her legs apart the way he liked them.

Perfect because her nipples were tight and hard with suppressed excitement and her eyes alive with curiosity and fury both at what he was going to do.

Maybe she knew.

Maybe she didn't.

He wanted those nipples.

He wantedher.

He dipped a finger in the jam pot, and pressed it against her nipple and began swirling it around the hard pleasure point.

She jerked away.

"Oh, no, little fawn. I will have this, too. I thought about it all night. Imagine it: me fantasizing about covering your nipples with jam so I can suck them.Hold still…!" as she wrenched away from him.

He leapt up and straddled the bench behind her, holding her tightly against his hot hard chest with one hand, and reaching over to the jam pot with the other.

She wanted to stop him; she was desperate to stop him as he rubbed her nipples, first one, then the other pointed peak, with the soft, sticky jam.

She had her hands. She had the weapon, the long bone of an erection sliding up her buttocks. She could… she couldsqueeze him or pinch him or something

She groaned involuntarily as his fingers made magic on her breasts.

That wasn't supposed to happen, it wasn't… she didn't want to feel them swirling, caressing, squeezing her nipplesthe sensation spiraled right down between her legs and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Her body, her traitorous, pleasure-seeking body, squirmed in delight, and it curved at an impossible angle to demand more of those tantalizing beguiling fingers on her breasts.

Her head lolled against his shoulder, and she moaned over and over, "No, no, no, no…"

And he murmured in concert with her protests, "Yes, yes, yes, yes…"

And he grew bigger and tighter with every moan, spurting hotter, harder, more insistent with every "no" she uttered.

"I can't, I can't, I can't…"

"You can…"

"I don't want to"

"You do…"

"Oh, God, Courtdon't…" as the feeling feeding from her nipples swelled and expanded and then streamed and funneled between her legs.

"Yes," he whispered into her ear, "give it to me… give me, give melet it… let it… come"

"No-o-o-o-o-o…"she groaned as she bent double and ground her hips into the bench. "No-o-o-o-o-o-o…" as his relentless fingers kept at her nipples until she could hardly stand the feel of them, and she pulled and pushed at them and undulated her body and grasped at his penis and whimpered in the back of her throat as her body convulsed and pure molten pleasure coursed through her veins and puddled between her legs and then detonated in the writhing heat of her surrender.

"No…" she whispered, her fingers flexing against the inflexible length and hardness of him, but it was too late. Too late for her. Too late for him.

He spumed like a geyser beneath his trousers, his manhood so overheated he thought he would die from the pleasure.

It took momentsit felt like hoursto regain some semblance of sanity, and when he finally did, he gently pulled the satin tie from her wrists where she still grasped him, and slowly, tentatively, he wrapped himself around her.

She held herself stiffly away, still as dazzled and bewildered as he. He was sure of it. It was time to gentle the fawn. He had all the time in the world to wait; and soon, slowly, reluctantly, she settled back into his heat.

It was late afternoon. He had sent Drue upstairs for a long, luxurious bath, and he had had Evie unlock the collar, and he had brushed his lips against her irritated skin.

He liked the fact she had shuddered at his touch. There was nothing about her that didn't arouse him, and now that she had capitulated to him, he was very willing to accede to her demands. A bath. A maid to wield a fan in the suffocating heat. The removal of the collar.

The knowledge in her eyes that he would possess her soon.

She could not, in the throes of that convulsive climax, have been thinking of anyone else buthim.

She made his blood run hot. She made him boil. She made him hard just at the thought of her.

He was hard for her now, his penis restless, his blood throbbing with the primitive need to claim her in the most elemental way.

Lord Almighty… he couldn't keep his mind off her…he never got to suck her nipples…

Tonight…

The word thrummed through his blood. No more waiting. No more wanting and aching. He was tired of waiting for what was his; tired of fighting his body, tired of the battle for hers.

Tonight…

His penis spurted at the thought; ruthlessly, he got it under control.

A man didn't spend his seed profligately when he had a woman like Drue to service him. He planned to keep her pinned to the bed for a week, a month, a year, naked and begging for his sex between her legs.

Tonight…

He liked the fact that there was a factor of time in his decision to finally give her what she wanted. Always, the anticipation made the thought of the act seem even more deeply erotic.

They had so much time…

And he would take his time once penetration was complete. And he even looked forward to that moment, when all barriers between them ceased to exist and she could encompass all of him, tight and to the hilt.

He made a hissing sound as he imagined it. His manhood ached for it, tellingly, even now.

He shuddered at the force of his craving for it.

Noman should ever be that whipsawed by any woman…

Well, damn, he wasn't in love with her; he just wanted her, naked and writhing beneath his body…

" Master Court "

…and screaming for more

" Master Court "

Damned insistent voice jolting him out of his fantasies.

"What is it, Evie?"

"I got something here you want to see."

"Come in then," he said gruffly, shifting in his chair. "What is it?"

She handed him an envelope. "A man done give that to Louisa, and she come to me."

"I see." He turned it over in his fingers. No identifying marks. No address. "And who was Louisa to give it to?"

"The mistress."

The words fell like stones. "Thank you, Evie. You can go."

He waited until she had exited the room. And waited still longer, turning the missive over and over, as if the blankness of it would tell him something and he wouldn't have to open the envelope at all.

Three days… not even a week before the betrayals set inhe was a fool, and sheoh, she…

Slowly, he got up and went into his office and closed the door. Slowly, so as not to damage the flap, he slit open the envelope and took out the letter, even knowing what it probably contained.

He had to know. Even though he knew.

My dearest, darling Pet,

I can't stand it anymore. Three days knowing you have been in the arms of that monster and I'm half crazed with anger and jealousy. There must be a way. I cannot bear that he should have you. I cannot bear that I can't.

Remember the things we said to each other? The promises we made? There are other places, other possibilities. You don't have to stay with him. You can come to me. Your father will not suffer, I promise. I swear it. If that is the only reason you consented to this abomination of a marriage, you must believe me. Summerville can never harm your father. On my life I swear it.

Leave him. Marry me, as we had planned from the beginning. Don't stay a moment longer in that hell house. Tell me I may still hope to possess you, my darling love. Tell me you haven't forgotten everything we did, everything we were to each other.

She who delivers this letter to you has promised to be our go-between. Please, please, please answer my prayers, give me hope. Send your lover the one response that will open the gates of heavenfor him and for you.

Your beloved, Gerard

He read it slowly; he read it again. Three phrases jumped out:everything we did, everything we were to each other… Send your lover…

He felt like smashing something. To his credit, he thought, he did nothing. He just sat there, still as a statue, contemplating the cramped writing on the page.

…everything we did…

… everything we were to each other…

… send your lover…

The lying bastard, he thought violently; the evidence was irrefutable that Lenoir had never been her lover. He felt murderous. Uncontrollable. He wanted to teach the son of a bitch a lesson, to keep his hands, his filthy words, away from hiswife.

But he couldn't get aroundeverything they did… Hehad to know. And he didn't want to know. He wanted to kill Lenoir so that one memory ofeverything they did would be obliterated forever.

And he could only think of one sure way to efface it from hers: he was going to pound her body to oblivion and back so that the one thing, the only thing she would remember inside her washim.

He would never let her go, never; what was his belonged tohim, forever. But he had to know.

So now, yes, he would take her so she would never forget to whom she belonged, and because of this betrayal, he would test her.

But he didn't know what he would do if he didn't win.

She lay on the bed, luxuriating after her bath without the confining collar and straps. Evie was off somewhere else in the house, and there was no sound anywhere but the soft swoosh of the palm fan wielded by Evie's daughter.

She didn't want to think; she tried to make her mind a blank so she didn't have to feel, didn't have to remember the bone-melting excitement of what he had done to her, or her body's sense of still being confined by the straps and collar.

How odd it was, as if that were something so erotic that her senses had derived some pleasure from it even if she had felt as if she were bound and displayed solely for his titillation.

Or had she?

Could she have secretly loved the way those straps defined and outlined her sex and thrust her breasts forward?

No, how could she? This was not an affectionate game between lovers; he had made it a situation of domination and control whereby he meant to teach her fully and completely that she had no control.

So why did she feel as if somehow she secretly wielded some power?

Because he was in a constant state of arousal every time he was around her; that had to mean his sex was responding toher. Even if it only meant he wanted to copulate with her, stillhe wantedher. Her body. Her sex. Her heat.

But so much so, he wouldn't allow himself to have her?

It seemed strange to her. The easiest thing would have been for him to take her. He surely wasn't denyingher anything. Why would he deny himself?

For control. Always control. To make her give up control.

And hadn't she? She couldn't fight him. She couldn't stop him. He owned her. He hadn't forced himself on her. Not to take her, not really.

All he had done was shatter her resolve and melt her determination.

He had made her forget Gerard and he had made her want to experience that frenzied swamping pleasure again.

Control. He could control her merely by giving her that.

She wondered what it would take to makehim finally lose control.

Wouldn't that be something to savor? Court Summerville in the throes of mindless passion. Court, helpless in her hands, the way she had been in his.

She squirmed, visualizing it, and a dart of pleasure pierced her straight to her vitals.

No! NO!

What was she thinking?! There could be nothing between her and Court. He had married her to seed a dynasty, nothing more, nothing less.

Why couldn't she remember that? Why did he have to play with her, like a cat with a mouse?

Control.