He could have prevented nothing, least of all his own wanton secret life with Regina. "No. This was booked at Heeton's last week. There was no way to avoid it after that, Reginald."

"Well, let me tell you-Mr. Jack Smart came to her here in her own home. What do you make of that?"

"The bastard was here? She let him in?" Damn and blast to hell. If he even breathed the same air, he would kill him. He would.

"Ancilla was here; she had no choice in good manners. But still and all-talk to her, Jeremy. I am at wit's end."

You are not the only one, Reginald.

Reginald stalked out, and Jeremy settled himself in the wing chair to wait for her. He rose restlessly when the thought occurred to him that Raulton might have been in this room, sat in this very chair. Damn damn damn. Why hadn't Ancilla stopped her? But what did Ancilla know? Plenty, probably, knowing Ancilla. Damn and hell.

And where was Regina anyway?

"Ah, and here is my lord to ring another peal over me." And suddenly she was there, standing defiantly on the threshold gowned in virtue and bile. "Father wasn't content to beat me to snuff; he had to summon his great good friend to put me further down-pin. Well, go ahead, Jeremy. I'm all to pieces already anyway."

"He was here."

That brought her up short. "He?"

"Raulton-here, in this room…"

"So was Ancilla. It was all perfectly proper."

"He was in this room. With you. Which chair?"

"Jeremy…"

He wasn't angry. Well, yes, he was. He was furious, fairly simmering under all that impassivity, and she couldn't tell him anything about Raulton's visit that he wanted to hear.

"Where was he seated?"

Time to divert and distract. "Why does it matter?"

"It matters."

He was too cool, too collected. She ought to run scared. She ought to just run and hide, and lock herself in the cellars at Sherburne House.

But she was already shackled-to his desire-and his fury was nothing to her hunger for that.

"Ancilla and I were on the sofa; he sat in the wing chair."

"In the wing chair. In this room. In your home. I see. And what was so urgent that he must fly to your side the moment the betting line at White's is announced? Do you guess?"

"I-" She hadn't thought for a moment about what he inferred. That Raulton's appearance was not just a social call, and that perhaps he wanted to be seen coming and going from their town house in order to increase speculation as to where his interest lay, and thus manipulate the odds.

So much for vanity. But these were the things men always knew and women did not.

"He has all the tricks," she said finally, "and all the experience to influence everything to his design. I should never have let him in. There is no excuse, because now Father believes nothing I tell him and is ready to send me to Coventry for my deceits."

"Not all your deceits," Jeremy murmured, feeling his anger ebb at this uncharacteristic show of humility. He bore some of the blame as well; he had done next to nothing to carry out the original scheme that Reginald had proposed, which, had he done so, might have prevented this Raulton imbroglio.

"Not the most important one," she whispered, her words like flame to tinder. Instantly she wanted him, and she knew he wanted her. In the morning, in the library, together, alone. At the instant, and tonight be damned. Tonight would be another story.

"I need to know you wore my chain."

"I wore it. I felt it every minute in that other presence."

"I need to see."

Yes, yes, yes… "Now? Here…?" Yes. Yes. To be naked for you now. Dangerous. Thrilling. On the edge… yes…

"Lock the door."

She threw the latch.

"Pull up your dress."

She lifted the hem up and up until she was bare to the waist, dressed only in the thin, glimmering chain that defined what she was for him. What she willingly offered for his pleasure.

Let him take his pleasure…

His chain, binding her hips, her cunt, her sex to him. He knelt down and buried his mouth in her thick feminine hair, kissing and sucking her essence, and the chain that symbolized his possession.

He grasped her bottom and pulled her more tightly against his avid mouth. Just this, not even enough of this. She was wet for him already, open to him unquestioningly, wore his chain of possession in willing submission to his desires. And he had been but a morning without her, and he was hungry, ravenous for her.

Oh, there. There. Inserting his tongue insistently, feeding on her, sucking at her with his lips and tongue. Feeling her grinding and the movement of her ass in his hands. He couldn't take her this way fast enough, hard enough; he found the distended nub between her legs and lapped at it, pulled on it, and pulled her with him into the abyss.

Down she went, down, on the floor, his mouth still voraciously sucking her, down into the sworls of pleasure never-ending. Down, on her back, where he drove his aching penis into her still spangling body and, in that one shot, poured every ounce of his cream into the hot wet mystery of her.

Down. Down. Down.

Breathless. More.

He pulled her to her feet and then unlocked the door and turned to her.

Heartless to leave her like this.

"Tonight. All you can take of my penis-and more."

She caught her breath. He was warning her. Her body quickened with anticipation, arousal, hunger.

Already.

Tonight. More. More.

And even more.

Waiting for a lover was the most voluptuous thing in life. In the interim between the time she expected him to come and his actual appearance, her imagination played a dozen scenarios in her mind, each one more carnal and salacious than the last.

She lay in her bed, dressed only in the slender gold chain, her breasts heavy and taut, her body turgid with lust. The hours chimed by; her fantasies grew hotter, wilder and more lascivious until all she wanted was his penis right then, right there, all she could take-and more.

But did not this prolonged waiting heighten her desire? Oh, he knew so well what he was doing to her, making her hunger for the fulfillment of his erotic promise. Making her wait until she was ready to explode.

All you can take. And more.

Her body squirmed with arousal; she had thought of nothing else all day, all night. Her whole consciousness was fixed on the feeling of that chain encircling her body and her sex. His symbol. His possession. And tonight, all she could take- and more.

The waiting only increased her desire, made her wet and hot and greedy to have him rut in her, a mistress to her core.

The door cracked open, and he slipped into the room. He had removed his coat already, and his shirt and trousers were undone. It took but another minute for him to strip himself naked and to pull her from the bed and against his heated, jutting length into his hot, devouring kiss.

"Tonight," he whispered against her lips. "You are all mine."

She shivered.

"This is what I want…" He stepped back and showed her his wrists which were tied with a soft material. "Give me your body to do with what I want." He kissed her again, hard, harsh, full of explosive excitement. "Let me tie your hands." Another kiss, deep and wet and rooting. "Let me have your body." He sucked her lower lip. "Let me give you all you can take-and more."

She melted under the onslaught; she wanted it. He was talking too much, and his lusciously hard penis was going to waste rubbing against her belly and midriff when he could be fucking her. Anything he wanted, anything, to get him inside her to keep his erotic promise.

"Anything you want," she whispered, stretching out her arms.

He unwound the one length of material from around his wrist and lifted her arm to the bedpost and tied her wrist. And then her left arm, so that both arms were splayed and bound just above her head and her body with that soft, giving material that would keep her firmly in place without injury.

Now she was completely his; now he owned that incredible body that he had bound in chains. He couldn't get enough of just looking at her.

And she couldn't get enough of him. There was something enthralling about being bound and on display for him. Her body arched toward him, her breasts heavy with lust and excitement. She quivered at the knowledge that he could fondle her, anywhere everywhere, he could fuck her any which way, and she could do nothing to stop him.

And she knew this, too: that by her willing submission, she owned him; her body was everything to him, willing, submissive, greedy, insatiable for his penis to rut in her.

All he could give, all the time.

He was like a caged animal now, ready to pounce. Every inch of her body belonged to him. He wanted to look at her bound and chained this way forever. And he wanted to jam himself deep inside her and never come out.

Oh, and then, her nipples. With her arms spread, and her body arched toward him, her breasts seemed rounder, heavier, her nipples tighter, harder.

He needed her nipples now.

He came to her. He reached out and took them, and immediately she spasmed at his touch. Instantly, he reached around her to unlock the chain with the key he had wound around his wrist. A minute more, and he rammed himself home, deep home, the angle of his penis perfect to penetrate her as she stood, and he rocked himself into her so deep he didn't know where she began and he left off. And then they were body to body, hip to hip, with her nipple tips tight against his hairy chest.

Don't move don't move don't move… he nipped at her lips… don't… he moved his hands down to her curvy buttocks… don't… move… he jammed himself tighter, maybe a mistake… don't...

He kissed her deeply, and felt her body squirm against him as if she were seeking to take him deeper still… don't… yes… his penis was so strong, so virile, he could rule the world-he ruled her-and maybe that was his world…

Breathless… don't… can't take much more-all she could take… don't.… just tight sharp little… don't move… have to… have to… have to have to have to have to...

… have to

And gone. Pounding her like a piston and discharging himself in one blasting cannon shot.

Stay.

More.

Not yet.

Soon.

He was still embedded in her in this erotic upright position. He held her tightly against him, tight, tight, tight. He kissed her long, hard, deep. He felt himself flexing, hardening, elongating in her tight, soaking sheath. He felt his strength and his power rising.

He wanted more, but she had wrung him out.

This was the test; this was her power. And the evening was still young.

He liked this the best: he owned her nipples, and he could feel or feed on them however he liked all this evening long. And he could fuck her anytime he wanted all this evening long. He liked the freedom of penetrating her at his will and fondling her nipples whenever he felt like it.

He came to her again and again, to fondle and fuck and sometimes both. All she could take. And more.

She was as greedy as he, ravenous for his penis and his possession, and enticing him to take her nipples with every shimmy of her body.

He couldn't keep away from them. He couldn't keep his hands off of her. He felt up every inch of her body, everywhere he could reach. He made her come with his fingers in her cunt, and at her nipples; and he took her from behind, all the while she stood, submitting to his every desire.

"You need to be locked up, fancy-piece. You're dangerous."

"How so?"

"Those nipples. The way you flaunt them."

"Because I want you to make them harder."

"I'm sucked out, my lady."

"Really? After all your boasts of having enough for two? You hardly have enough for me."

"It sounds like my lady is ready to fuck again."

"You said all I could take. I want more."

It was all he needed, her voracious command.

"I rise to the occasion."

He came to her again, and stood so his jutting penis could root just inside her cunt. She never got tired of watching him at the cusp of penetration. And neither did he. "Ready to take it?"

She drew a sharp breath, and he plunged his hips, plunged himself back into the hot depths of her. God, all night she had been so stoked, so hot, so soaked with his cream. Nothing fazed her, not even this willing submission to him or his binding her arms. It was enough to storm all his defenses. All he wanted was to root in her. They had been at it for hours, and he couldn't even count the number of times.