0 comments/ 79353 views/ 69 favorites The Games We Play By: Fanta C Isabella Bennet glanced around the Rutherford's ballroom, taking in all the men and women dancing gaily or engaged in conversation. She really hated these affairs. They were nothing but a place for the ladies of society to present the newest girls of the Season and gossip about the latest scandal that some poor person had committed. The men weren't much better, gathering in groups to leer at the fresh beauties and talk about business or their latest conquest. She was trying to disappear into the wall when Lord Royce Sutcliffe, Viscount of Wrighton, casually strolled up to her. "Miss Bennet, would you do me the honor of dancing the next dance?" he said stiffly, as if he had no desire to, but had to because he was on her dance card. "Why, of course, my lord. It would be a pleasure," she replied, placing her gloved hand upon his. She couldn't help but feel furious at his obvious displeasure over his asking her to dance. She knew she wasn't beautiful but she didn't deserve the cold indifference that most of the men had treated her with since her debut. She let herself be led to the floor and absentmindedly let herself be directed through the simple steps of the minuet. She didn't sense that she was being watched by a group of ladies from the back of the ballroom. "Dear Emma, I feel so sorry for you. It's too bad that your sister got the name Isabella, when it is obvious that you are the true belle of the ball," Mrs. Cavandish, one of society's most prominent matrons, whispered in Emma's ear. Unfortunately her whisper was almost as loud as her true voice and Hilary Wickam overheard her comment. "Mrs. Cavandish is quite right, Emma. It's plain to see that you inherited your mother's beauty, while Isabella did not. Just look at her." Their eyes roved back to Isabella, looking her over. She was dressed in a beautiful ivory silk dress. The bodice was square and low cut, the tops of her milky white breasts revealed. It had an empire waist and fell in soft folds to her feet. Her chestnut hair was swept up in a intricate coiffure that had ivory ribbons streaming from it and a few stray curls escaped, framing her face. She wasn't beautiful by modern standards, but in the classic sense, with a heart shaped face, wide eyes, and lips too large to suit her face. Her nose was just slightly larger than what was considered fashionable, but it suited her. Though she couldn't compete with all the new debutantes of the Season. Emma watched her sister and felt slightly ashamed that she wasn't standing up for Isabella. Then again, Isabella had always been the unconventional one of the family, standing up for herself, learning how to use a knife, reading every book she could get her hands on, learning French, Greek, Latin, and Italian, becoming a master marksman and archer, and learning how to defend herself against men who might try to take advantage of her. There had been times when she had resented Isabella for all that she was able to do, but most of the time she felt sorry for her sister. Isabella had reached the age of twenty three with only one marriage proposal, from one of the lowliest, poorest men among the ton's elite. She was almost considered on the shelf, and since she was very independent and not very beautiful, she would likely end up an old maid. Emma wasn't surprised when she saw Marcus Hartford cut in on Isabella's dance. He and Izzy, as Emma liked to call her, had formed a deep friendship as children when Isabella had gone to Cornwall one summer with their father. Emma had been too young to go at the time, but from the stories she heard, the brother of the duke had taken a liking to the lively Isabella. He had admired her spirit and spunk and their friendship had formed quickly. Over the years he had come to visit them many times. He was Izzy's confidant, more than Emma was. It had been rumored for a long time that the two were lovers, so often were they seen in each others company, but Malcom Bennet, their father, had immediately quashed them. Marcus and Izzy would do anything for each other, even die for one another if the situation called for it. Isabella whirled around and around in Marcus' arms, finally exultant at being saved from Royce Sutcliffe's arms. It wasn't that she didn't like the viscount, but she hated trying to converse with him while dancing. She could never find the right thing to say. If she expressed her indepence or opinions to openly he would send chastising looks her way. He could easily be humorous or fun, but good breeding and manners were too deeply ingrained in him, for him to be anything less than an honorable gentleman. "Well, Bella," Marcus said, grinning broadly at the relief evident on her face, "it looks like you owe me a favor." "For rescuing me?" she crooned sarcastically, coquettishly batting her eyelashes and smiling. "Of course. What do you think of joining me at my townhouse for the night?" he whispered in her ear, flirting with her, as he did so often. He loved their friendship. They could flirt, be serious, and tell each other anything, knowing that the other would fully understand or flirt back, understanding that it was all in jest. "I think that you are rake and a rogue who has nothing better to do than try to ruin a perfectly respectable lady's image and cause a scandal." "No more scandal than the lady herself has already caused," he said seriously, leading her off the dance floor now that the music had come to a halt. "What scandal could you possibly mean, Marcus?" she said, knowing exactly the scandal he was talking about. "Lady Noelle Carrington saw you heading for the gypsy camp the other day. What, may I ask, were you doing, going to that place?" "No you may not ask," she stormed, anger beginning to rage like a flood through her veins. She turned to walk away, but his hand clamped down on her upper arm, and he dragged her out onto the balcony so that they could be alone. Emma watched her sister intently, tuning out Mrs. Cavandish. She watched Marcus carefully, noticing that he seemed angry. When he grabbed her sister's arm, she started. How dare he put his hands on her sister like that! Quickly she made her excuses to the ladies she had been chatting with, and strode toward the balcony doors, peering around the corner so that she could see what was happening. As soon as they stepped on to the balcony Marcus began lecturing her. "I'm completely serious Bella. What were you doing going to the gypsy camp? And if you were insistent upon going, why didn't you at least take a chaperone? You are my best friend Bella, but there are times when I think that you behave so rashly and irresponsibly that I could literally strangle you." His worry was evident, even in the intense anger of his tone. "Don't you dare get that condescending tone with me Marcus Alexander Hartford! I know some of your most intimate secrets, including the one about how you mistook a French Baron's daughter for a common wench and bedded her. You were lucky, if I remember correctly, that the girl wanted to be taken and wouldn't name the man who ruined her. If she had, you would either be married or you would have been challenged to a duel and possibly killed. How many people of the ton know about that incident? What would the gossips do if they knew? You wouldn't be able to find one mother or father willing to trust you with their daughter. Producing an heir to those precious estates of yours would be rather hard if you couldn't even get a wife. If you had an heir by a common woman, the child would be illegitimate. And if you did bother to legitimize him later, he would never be fully accepted by society because of his parentage." "Dammit Bella!" Marcus swore softly, agitatedly running a strong, tan hand through his coal black hair. His smoky gray eyes were gleaming softly in the light of the waxing moon. He stood, towering at least a foot over her, and yet she stood up to him with the force of a Fury exacting her vengeance upon a mortal. "You shouldn't say things like that. It isn't proper, but then you never have been that have you?" he said, smiling ruefully. "You wouldn't be my friend if I was a proper young lady. I wouldn't have gone fishing or climbed trees with you as a child. We wouldn't have had so much fun together over the years." He gazed down at her precious, smiling face and realized for the first time in the whole time that they had been friends, that he wouldn't be able to live without her. If anything ever happened to her he wouldn't know how to go on. He remembered a time when she had neared her first season. He had been so scared that once she debuted, the mincing fops of the ton would occupy her time and she would forget about him. He had been immensely relieved when she had scarcely attracted the attention of one male. Though he had felt bad about how she had been snubbed, he hadn't wanted to lose her friendship. "What?" she stammered nervously, her hands coming up to make sure that her hair was still in place. He had been staring at her so intensely she had become agitated. "I just realized how beautiful you are when you smile. If you weren't my best friend and I didn't know everything about you, including how headstrong you are, I would have offered for you as soon as you debuted," He joked, smiling broadly when she blushed. Inside Emma ducked back into the room. Why had she even thought that Izzy, might have been in danger? And from Marcus? That was about as likely to happen as a marriage between and king and a peasant. Besides, Izzy can take care of herself. She keeps a knife sheathed in the garter on her left leg, beneath her dress. She scooted away from the doorway just in time, because Isabella and Marcus came strolling back in. "Emma, come join us," Izzy called out jovially to her sister. Emma walked over to them, her midnight blue gown swishing about her legs. "Hello, Your Grace," Emma said, curtsying slightly. "There's no need for formalities Emma, after all, I am on quite friendly terms with the rest of your family, and although I haven't had much occasion to speak to you, I feel as if I know you from what Bella has told me." "Bella?" Emma asked curiously. "My nickname for your sister, after all, she is quite beautiful. It's only right that she have a name that reflects that." Emma's shock must have been apparent, because Isabella said, "Don't look quite so shocked, sister. After all, not everyone is interested in physical beauty. I believe that true beauty comes from within. If a person is kind and gentle in nature then they are a beautiful person, but someone who is vindictive, giving no care to the feelings of others, would be, by my standards, considered ugly. And I know Marcus thinks I am quite beautiful. Isn't that right?" "Quite right, m'dear. I find that your sister is the most ravishing creature I have ever had the pleasure to lay my eyes on. Her eyes are like a golden sun that illuminates the room. Her smile is blinding and makes me oblivious to all other females in the vicinity. And she can make me laugh with her wit and intelligence, a hard task, I assure you," He joked. "And why, sir, would that be a hard task?" "Because very little can amuse me, but your sister always seems to find something that will." Isabella was about to argue that point when Nicholas Montgomery, the Earl of Ryding, stepped up to Emma and asked her to dance. She could see that Emma was about to decline his offer, and since she still needed to speak to Marcus, she placed her hand upon Emma's arm, silently urging her to accept. As he turned to lead Emma away, he glanced at Bella, a sinister gleam in his eye. Then he winked, sending chills up her spine. She couldn't take her eyes off of him, even though he had unnerved her with that wink. His tall, broad shouldered, lean body whirled Emma around the dance floor and Bella could feel the intense, pure power that radiated from him, his thick, golden blond hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. He had a face like none she'd ever seen, with sharp, prominent cheekbones and piercing, evergreen eyes that could look through a person's defenses and know what was in their soul. His lips were full and looked . . . kissable. Kissable? Where did that come from? Nicholas Montgomery kissable? Impossible. But she had tasted of those lips before and knew that's exactly what they were. There was no point in denying it to herself. He was quite possibly the most attractive man she had ever seen in her life. Quickly she pushed the thought from her mind. Thankfully she was dragged out of her reverie by Marcus. "Are you all right Bella?" "I'm not sure. I wanted to talk to you in private but maybe I shouldn't have urged Emma to dance with Lord Montgomery. He is said to be powerfully seductive, especially to young misses. I'm just worried that Emma may be snared in one of his webs and ruin herself and all chances for a good marriage." She knew from firsthand experience how seductive the Earl could be. Her thoughts drifted back to the year that she debuted. She had been so excited about finally being able to attend her Season as an adult. But when she got to the ball, the men only danced with her if they happened to be on her dance card. Some of the women even gossiped behind her back as well. She remembered how she had rushed to escape by slipping out the patio door into the gardens. For some time she had wandered through the maze of flowers finally finding a pair of stone benches that she couldn't rest upon. She moved to sit down until she saw the shadow of a man standing, his long, muscular leg, clothed in black trousers, resting on the bench. He was leaning down his elbow resting on his knee, his face cupped in his palm. His form was fairly familiar and she was quite sure that she had seen him before. Then he suddenly turned and her breath hitched in her throat. Nicholas Montgomery. The most notorious rake in the ton. She had seen him before at an occasional ball or society dinner. She had noticed him right away, who wouldn't. He was spectacular, like a Greek god. She was rooted to her spot, not able to move and inch, even when he descended on her like a hawk stalking its prey. He stopped in front of her and she could vaguely remember that he said something to her about having watched her most of the night, thinking she was incredibly beautiful. Then he took the liberty of kissing her. A kiss that seared her straight to her toes. And she had protested, though she could taste the whiskey on his lips. She knew that a kiss like the one they were sharing combined with his mind being dulled slightly with drink could have dire consequences. But, he kissed her until he seduced her inhibitions into nothing. Before she knew what was happening they were on the stone bench, and she was straddling his lap, her body responding rebelliously to his touch. Her mind had whirled with the implications of what was happening, that she was giving herself to a man who she hardly knew and who had no intention of marrying her or loving her. She was going to be considered a fallen woman and it was only her first season. If anyone ever found out, her chances for a suitable marriage would be ruined. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the way she felt in his arms. He initiated her to the sexual act right there on the stone bench. Just thinking about it sent heat pouring through her and she remembered the way he had crushed his lips against hers to stifle her keening cries of release. She remembered the way she had felt, his seed inside her, trembling with the splendorous affect of her climax. Then she remembered the shame that she had felt, the guilt over what she had done. She had fallen into his arms without even a feeble protest. He had touched her and like a strumpet she had eagerly surrendered to him, not understanding the emotions and feelings rolling like crashing ocean waves through her body. And he had played on them, knowing that she was innocent and that she couldn't stop herself from submitting to him. He could have stopped it, could have saved her from a possible scandal, but he didn't. She knew that it wasn't entirely his fault. She had been so naive. If it got out that she was a fallen woman, it wouldn't only be her who was banished from good society, but her parents and sister as well. And she would bear the mark of shame, while Nicholas went on with his life. She had climbed off of him and brushed down her skirts as fast as she could, hiding the bloodstains that were proof of her innocence. She remembered the way he had watched her as she had righted her clothing and arranged her hair back into some semblance of order, pulling the tendrils of curls that had slipped loose from her coiffure behind her ears. He had stared at her with an extremely satisfied, almost condescending smile on his lips. She had flinched when, after fastening his breeches again, he walked up to stand right in front of her. He ran his thumb across her lips which were full and red from his passionate kisses. He had leaned forward, whispering huskily in her ear, "You are the most passionate creature I've ever met, Isabella Bennet. We must meet like this again sometime." She had gasped, shocked that he would think that she would do that again. "Never!" she had cried, turning and running out of the garden, back to the ball. For five years she had been haunted by the words that had trailed after her. "We'll see, Bella. We'll see." Then the soft chuckle of laughter, taunting her. And then a year later, she had let it happen again. This time it had been at his home. She had been unable to find her escort after a dinner and Nicholas had told her that he would see her home. She knew it wasn't proper and as soon as she was in the carriage he had kissed her. That was all it took for her to give in and they had practically made love it the carriage. It seemed that no matter how hard she resisted she couldn't keep herself out of Nicholas Montgomery's arms. That time she had spent the whole night with him, whiling away the hours with the pleasures of the flesh. His hands did marvelous things to her, seeming to know exactly where to stroke or touch her to bring her maximum pleasure. It had been difficult to explain her whereabouts to her parents but she told them that she had spent the evening with Marcus and his brother's family. As long as Marcus confirmed it, which he did after she pleaded with him, they had no reason to mention it to the duke. His appetite was insatiable, having come into her body four times that night. And she had enjoyed it, reveled in it, loved it. Her body was not her own when she was with him. Like a musical instrument it became attuned to him and he played it thoroughly. She had paid the consequences for her foolish actions. Though no one in England knew it, with the exception of her family, she had a child out of wedlock. When she had found that she was with child, her mother had shipped her off to Scotland to live with her Aunt until the babe was born. The child was born a month and a half early and hadn't survived more than a week. She had grieved endlessly for the loss of her child, for she had loved her daughter, Hope, dearly. She had gone against the grain in choosing that name, but it hadn't mattered to her. Hope had given her a reason to go on when she had wanted to quit. She treasured the hours that she got to spend with her precious girl. Hope was never far from her mind or heart. She even had a painting of them together. In her heart, she had known that Hope wouldn't survive and she wanted to be able to remember her always and the artist had been all too glad to paint them. For the past three years she hadn't needed to worry about a chance meeting with him, because business in India had kept him away for as long. But now that he had returned, he was certain to make trouble for her. The Games We Play Her stomach roiled at the thought of her parents having to bear the shame of her tragic mistake. Oh, she really felt sick and her head was pounding with a massive migraine. Marcus looked away, ashamed to know what was really meant by that wink Montgomery had sent to Bella. Her father had told him a week ago that he had arranged a betrothal between the Earl and Bella. Apparently the Earl assumed that Isabella knew and was trying to let her know that he planned to continue with his rogue ways during their marriage. Fortunately Bella didn't realize the real reason the Earl was dancing with Emma. He looked at her, noticing the faraway look that entered her eyes, as if she was lost in thought. It took him three times to get through to her. "Bella!" he finally cried the third time, causing several people to turn from their conversations to stare at them momentarily. She snapped out of her reverie and apologized to Marcus asking him to continue with what he had been saying. "I wouldn't worry too much about the Earl ensnaring your sister in one of his deadly webs. It has been rumored in White's of late that the Earl is betrothed." Isabella's shock couldn't have been more apparent. "To whom is Lord Montgomery betrothed?" "I'm not sure, Bella. The rumors weren't specific. They ranged everywhere from old widow Cavandish to. . ." he hesitated, knowing that she would be outraged at being part of such a rumor. "To whom, Marcus?" "To you, Bella." Shock and humiliation poured through her, chilling her heart. Who would even think that her and Nicholas Montgomery could be engaged. They had only come together twice, at the Attherton's masquerade ball and his home, and know one knew of what had occurred between them. "Why would I be included in such a rumor?" she whispered, horrified that people might think her betrothed to such a rake, whose exploits and conquests were legendary, a legend of which she was a part of. "I don't know, Bella," Marcus lied, wishing he could tell her. As if in atonement for his guilt, he wrapped his arms around her and led her from the ballroom. From where he was dancing with Emma Bennet, Nicholas glowered at Marcus Hartford. Isabella Bennet was his betrothed, yet she walked out of the ballroom with Hartford's arms around her. They weren't even married yet, and already she was conducting herself scandalously. How dare she! "Lady Emma, why is it that your sister, Isabella, has not yet married? Her debut was almost five years ago, if I'm not mistaken." "You are not mistaken, my lord. She did debut five years ago. As for why she hasn't married, she has only had one man offer for her." "Who?" "Lord Langton," she said simply. He almost sputtered when she said that name. Langton was one of the poorest and unattractive men in good society. Why would Isabella only attract an offer from him? "Why didn't your sister attract more offers?" "You have seen her, Lord Montgomery. She is not exactly the most beautiful woman, although she was pretty until she was fifteen. She is also very independent and that frightened many of the men of the ton. She may have a sizable dowry, but any girl who carries a knife in the garter on her left leg is someone that not many men would be willing to offer for, no matter how much money she has. She even caused an outrageous scandal her first season when she pulled the knife on Langton. He tried to accost her in the gardens at our home after she turned down his offer of marriage. Suffice it to say that she had the knife pressed to his throat when our father, mother, and several of their friends who had been visiting, came upon them. After that she was treated as a leper by all men except Marcus. He would never abandon her." He had known of the knife when he had taken her innocence. Why hadn't she used the knife when they had come together at the Attherton's Ball, or at his home? She could have stopped him from taking her, stopped him from making love to her but she hadn't. He couldn't even begin to figure her out. The mention of Hartford rubbed Nicholas the wrong way. "What are she and Hartford to each other?" he finally asked tersely. "Why, Izzy and Marcus have been best friends since Izzy was eight years old and went to Cornwall for the first time. He had immediately taken to her because, in his words, "she had spunk and spirit." "Are they lovers?" Emma glared at him, angry that he would think her sister a fallen woman. "No they are not lovers, Lord Montgomery. They are good friends and that is all." she ground out through clenched teeth. "If you will excuse me, I have no desire to be quizzed any longer." She spun around and left him standing in the middle of the ballroom, the only one without a dance partner. "Head out of London, Johnny," Marcus called to his carriage driver as he helped Bella into the carriage. "Where are we going, Marcus?" she asked curiously. "I have a surprise for you. Something to lift your spirits." "A large glass of brandy would accomplish that. You don't happen to have some do you?" "Even if I did, Bella, I wouldn't give you any. If you were plied with drink, I may be tempted to take advantage of you," he said, reaching over, grabbing her waist, and pulling her onto his lap. He tickled her stomach and she burst into laughter, her whole body shaking. "Scandalous, Marcus. I am not some tavern wench available for your pleasure when you wish it." "No, but you could be if you would let yourself," he joked, planting a soft, sweet kiss on her lips. She smiled and extricated herself from his grasp, moving back to her seat across from him. "Sometimes, I wish that I hadn't met you when I was so young. If I had met you when I debuted I would have set my cap for you, and not given up until we were married. But there was a reason for our meeting when we did. Our friendship filled something in both our lives and I don't know where I would be without it." The carriage slowly pulled to a stop when Marcus yelled to Johnny. They alighted from the carriage and walked into an open field of flowers and trees. "Marcus, it's been ages since we've been here." "I thought you might like to see it again." He walked over to the tree closest to them and searched the trunk for something he knew he would find carved into the bark. He found it on the far side of the tree: Isabella Bennet (Bella) and Marcus Hartford Best Friends Forever "I remember when you carved this," she said coming to stand beside him. It was the Season I debuted. I remember how protective of me you were when there was no need to be. We came out here after one of the many balls that I had accepted invitations to and you carved this. You were so worried that I was going to have so many suitors that all my time would be taken and you would be pushed out of my life." "It was a pretty silly notion wasn't it. I knew you better than that. You are too loyal by far, to ever push anyone you love out of your life." He grabbed her hand, led her into the middle of the field and pulled her down onto the ground. They laid back and stared up at the shining white stars in the velvety black sky. The moon rose full and proud, its luminescent moonbeams streaking down toward Earth. They stayed there for almost an hour, not saying anything, just enjoying the comfortable silence of nature surrounding them. The carriage rumbled slowly up the drive to Bella's house. It was ablaze with lights and Isabella groaned when she remembered that the Archibalds had been coming to visit tonight. She didn't want to go inside but she didn't have any other choice. The driver opened the door and Marcus stepped out first, then reached up his hand to help her descend. "Wait here for me Johnny," he instructed his driver. "I hope that I don't have to sit with my parents and entertain the Archibalds. I'm not feeling up to it tonight." "If you wish, I'll make your excuses, while you sneak up to your room." "Would you Marcus? I would so appreciate it." "I will, but you'll owe me another favor," he said, grinning broadly. The Bennet's butler, Franklin, opened the door without them even having to knock. "Good evening, miss. Lord Hartford. Your parents are awaiting your arrival in the parlor. You have company." "So much for sneaking upstairs. Looks like I still only owe you one favor." "Pity." They walked arm in arm to the main parlor. When Franklin opened the door she spotted her parents immediately. They were sitting next to each other on a loveseat in the far corner of the room, next to the fireplace. "Franklin said that my presence was requested," she said softly, hesitant to enter the room and sit down. Finally she did so, but she would not release Marcus' arm. "How nice of you to finally grace us with your presence, Isabella, since it is a known fact that you left the Rutherford's ball over an hour ago," her father, Malcom Bennet, snapped. He was about to continue when her mother placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Dear, where have you been all this time?" Genevive Bennet asked. "I was not feeling great, so Marcus and I went to do something we hadn't done since we were children. We went to just outside London and climbed trees and laid in the grass, counting the stars in the heavens." Bella glanced around. "Where are the Archibalds?" Her father made a noise of disgust but remained silent. "They left early. We have heard reports that you and Marcus are not conducting yourselves in the way people with your breeding should. And what is this business of walking out of one of the most important social affairs of the Season with you arms around my daughter, Lord Hartford. We have already once, in your long-standing friendship with my daughter, had to quash rumors about you and Isabella. We have no desire to do so again." "I am sorry, Lady Bennet, but Bella was upset so I ushered her out of the soiree as quickly as I possibly could." Malcom Bennet spoke up again. "We have finally seen to it that someone take over the responsibility of controlling your impulses, Isabella. I have arranged a betrothal between you and Lord Nicholas Montgomery, the Earl of Ryding." The doors of the parlor opened and in he strolled, his gold flecked, evergreen eyes hooded, his lips pressed into a firm, thin line. "I believe the two of you are acquainted," Genevive said. "We met at the Attherton's masquerade ball. Though it was only for a small period of time, I derived a great deal of pleasure from out meeting," Nicholas said, moving to stand near her, knowing that she would full well understand the meaning behind his statement. Her father did not comprehend the meaning of his words, but her mother, a smart, wise woman, understood the full impact of his words and the stiffening of her daughter's back confirmed it. So this was the man who had coaxed her rebellious daughter into his bed. Genevive would have never thought that any man would attract Bella's attention. But this one did and she even bedded him her first season. Her daughter wouldn't let any man take her innocence unless she was, at least a little bit enamored of him. But, not only had he taken her innocence, he had gotten her with child. And if she wasn't mistaken, he didn't know that he had fathered a babe. Bella thought that by betrothing her to Nicholas Montgomery her father was punishing her for being independent. That wasn't the truth. They just want to see her taken care of properly. She couldn't live all her days in her parents home, a spinster that nobody would invite to their events. One day she might even come to thank them for setting her up with the Earl. Genevive laughed silently over the thought, knowing her daughter far too well. Isabella, if she came to love the Earl, would never thank them. That would be conceding that they had been right and she would never do that. Her thoughts were lost when Isabella's next words penetrated her brain. "A meeting I wish had never occurred," Isabella muttered quietly, but not so softly that the Earl and other occupants of the room couldn't hear her words. "Bella!" her mother gasped. "Don't fret, Lady Bennet. She has stated a fact that many a person would agree with her about. There are many people who wish they had never set eyes on me." Bella looked away, her thoughts a big puddle in her brain. For once she couldn't think of something to say, some way to get out of this betrothal that her family had arranged. She clutched Marcus' hand in hers and the gesture made Nicholas want to rip Hartford limb from limb. She had just found out she was to be his wife, and she clasps the hand of another man. She jumped up suddenly, startling Nicholas into moving back. She had to get out of this wretched betrothal. "I am sorry that you wasted your time, my lord, but I refuse your offer. I do not wish to marry you. So I bid you farewell. Goodnight mother, father. Marcus, would you care to go riding with me tomorrow? "I would be pleased to accompany you, Bella. Until then." He leaned forward, kissing her cheek boldly, taking note of the flash of anger that swept across Montgomery's face, before strolling out of the room and out of the townhouse. Bella turned and curtsied politely to Nicholas before turning and heading for the stairs to her room. Inside the parlor, Malcom and Genevive sat, staring in shock at the doors that closed behind Isabella. They finally gathered their composure and Malcom began to make apologies for Isabella's audacious behavior. "I beg your pardon, Lord Montgomery for Isabella's atrocious attitude. I assure you that she is really a sweet girl. She just doesn't take well to having restrictions imposed on her." "Mr. Bennet, I highly doubt that your daughter is the sweet, docile woman that you would have me believe her to be." Malcom opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the Earl's next words. "I knew that she was independent, but I had no clue as to exactly how independent she was. Obviously she will fight me to the very ends of this Earth until the vows are spoken, but the deal has been struck and I wish for an heir to my estate. Your daughter can provide me with one. Other than that I have no use for her. But since the bargain has already been struck, and I am a man of my word, the engagement stands. On one condition, of course." "And what condition would that be, sir?" Malcom asked warily. "On the condition that your daughter accompany me to Briarwood where she will be taught how to control her impulses and learn how to run my manor according to my wishes. She will stay there until the marriage, which will take place in the chapel on my grounds. You will be allowed to attended, but no one else. Not even Marcus Hartford." At that Genevive rose to face him. "You must let Marcus attend the wedding. Isabella will die if he isn't allowed to." "Then we'll just have to take that chance won't we," he said coldly. "Make sure she has her things ready to leave two days hence. My carriage will be here to take her to Briarwood exactly at noon." "Who will help her see to the preparations that must be made for the wedding?" "I will have a seamstress from here in London travel to my estate, where she will reside until the preparations are finished. The night grows late, so if you will excuse me I wish to retire to my townhouse. Have her ready to travel in two days." He said nothing more before turning and walking out the door. "Have we made the right decision?" Genevive asked, coming up to her husband and wrapping her arms around his waist. "What other choice do we have? We can't control her anymore, Genevive. She acts like she's twelve years old and not twenty two. This marriage will ensure that she isn't able to participate in those childish games anymore. And it will limit the influence Marcus has on her. They have done nothing but cause scandals for our family since they met. Remember when she was sixteen and he was twenty two and they decided to liven up a ball by releasing frogs throughout the room. Or when they were thought to be lovers. That scandal nearly ruined her for good society." "I know. I just can't help but wonder if we should have betrothed her to Marcus. At least then we would know for sure that she would be happy." "We just have to hope that she'll learn to live with the marriage and find some happiness in motherhood, even if she can't come to love the Earl." "I wonder how any person could come to love a man that cold." "I won't do it! I refuse to marry that cold, unfeeling, womanizing rake! I refuse to marry any man who doesn't love me. All he wants me for is to breed an heir! Then I'll be cast aside for a whole string of mistresses. And if I wanted to have a lover, society would crucify me as a harlot and adulteress," Bella snapped angrily as she and Marcus rode to the lake on the edge of her family's grounds. As usual, she chose to ride astride rather than sidesaddle. Her attire accentuated the curves of her body, clinging to them seductively. She wore a heavy, white cotton, button down shirt with a navy blue riding jacket over it. Her pants were tan cotton, and shiny black riding boots came up to her upper calves. Her riding hat was the same color navy blue as her riding jacket. "Would it really be so bad, Bella, to be married?" "It'll be horrible. I'm to be used to produce an heir, then cast aside like an old toy by a child who has his eye on the new toy he has just received. I wonder if the Earl will take the child from my arms and send me packing to one of his country estates." "Bella, how can you think such horrible thoughts?" "Easily." "When did you become so utterly pessimistic?" "I've always been pessimistic, Marcus. You just chose to overlook my faults." "Overlook your faults?" he said stunned. "Like your willfulness, stubbornness, impatience, and temper?" She flushed slightly. "Okay so you know my faults." The horses cantered up to the lake and Isabella slid off Wind Dancer, her prized black stallion, and stalked toward the dock that extended over the shimmering cobalt waters of the lake. She bent down, trailing her fingers through the water. It was warm from the sun's brilliant rays shining down on it. She stood quickly, her hands flying up to remove her riding hat and let her chestnut curls tumble down her back. She then removed her riding jacket and dropped it, letting it fall in a lump on the wooden boards. Marcus stared in shock when she began to unbutton her white shirt. "Good God, Isabella! What are you doing?" he exclaimed, stunned. "Going swimming," she called jovially, her shirt almost unbuttoned. "Care to join me?" "Are you trying to cause another scandal?" "No," she said, reaching back to untie the laces of her corset. "I'm trying to enjoy a beautiful day by going swimming. If you don't care to join me, why don't you take Khan back to the stables." She let her corset fall to the dock, then took off her pants and underwear. Marcus barely had a glimpse of her bare ivory skin before she dove gracefully into the water. He waited for her to surface before he mounted Khan and called good-bye as he rode away. Silently, she moved through the water beginning a brisk crawlstroke along the width of the lake. She had done about ten laps, reaching the far shore of the lake, when she saw a pair of black riding boots in front of her, at the edge of the water. She stifled a small gasp when she saw who was wearing them. He stood, staring down at her, his eyes flashing angrily, his hands clenched in fury at his sides. His white shirt conformed to every sleek muscle of his upper body and was open nearly to his waist, revealing a sprinkling of golden hair dusted across his tan chest. His pants were black and fit snugly to his well muscled thighs and calves. His long golden hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck. He looked like a rogue pirate standing at the helm of his ship, sailing over the magnificent ocean waves. The Games We Play She quickly swam out of his reach, so that she could look at him without having to strain her neck. "Hello, Nicki," she said trying to keep her voice from trembling. "I came this morning to ask you to ride with me today. When I arrived I was told that you had gone riding with Marcus." "You heard me say last night that we were going to be doing just that." "I did. What I did not expect when I rode out here to join you was to pass Hartford, who told me that my betrothed had undressed in his presence, then proceeded to go for a swim!" "Damn your big mouth, Marcus!" she cursed furiously under her breath. "Don't damn Marcus. He only told me after I threatened to call him out if he didn't." "You didn't?!" she shouted, outraged that he would threaten her best friend. "Oh, I did. Now get out of that lake. I will not have my future wife conducting herself like a common wench. If you want that I can think of several ways to make that come about. All of them involving us naked in a large bed." He gazed at her, contemplating her. The water lapped at her shoulders, and he knew that if he could coax her out of the water, she might be his for the taking. His shaft stirred at the thought of making love to her on the soft grass of the bank. He pictured her under him, soft and willing, her ivory skin gleaming and her amber eyes glazed with pleasure fulfilled. Or maybe she would let him take her in the water. That would be an experience to remember. "Not an unappealing thought," he muttered softly. Slowly, so as not to draw her attention yet, he unbuttoned his trousers and loosed his shirt from his waistband. Quickly he drew it over his head, exposing his wide, muscled chest. Next he stripped off his riding boots and his pants followed and finally his underclothes were lying beside his feet. He stood like a Greek god in the sun's warming rays of illuminating light. She had turned away from him still complaining. "You are so crude! How dare you even think that I would climb into a bed with you!" "I hate to break it to you, Bella, but you've already done so. Twice." He smiled sinisterly. She was about to respond, when she heard a splash beside her. Turning she saw Nicholas surface beside her. His hands came up and he slicked back his wet hair. Rivulets of water streamed down his face. "What in Hades do you think you're doing?" "I'm going to enjoy the pleasures of your body, Bella. There's no reason for me not to, after all, this marriage was consummated five years ago." He reached for her, his hand locking like a clamp around her wrist, and pulled her to him, sending little ripples of water away from them. "Don't you dare call me Bella! Only Marcus does that!" she cried as she felt his hand sweep over her sensitized breast. She couldn't hide her response to him and her nipples beaded under his gentle touches. She moaned softly, her body out of her control. "Please, don't," she cried softly. "Yes, Bella," he replied breathing in soft pants. Her body rubbed against his sensuously and he reached down pulling her legs around his hips, his already aroused manhood pushing insistently against her womanhood, but he didn't enter her. He placed his hands at the base of her back and pushed her forward, her breasts jutting out. Nimbly he leaned forward and captured one of the hardened buds of desire in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it, nipping it slightly with his white teeth, then finally taking it deep into his mouth, sucking on it gently. "Nicholas!" she cried wanting him to stop and continue at the same time. Her body rebelled against her, wanting the intense, burning pleasure that she knew would come if she stayed in his arms. Gently he realeased her nipple and brought his mouth to hers, kissing her persuasively, his tongue slipping between her softly parted lips to taste her honeyed sweetness. He spread more kisses down her neck, as she tipped her head backward, the ends of her hair trailing in the water. His hands continually caressed her body, sending blinding bursts of fire through her, rocking her to the very core of who she was. He felt the instant all her inhibitions and protests died, she arched against him, her breasts rubbing against the sworls of hair that covered his chest. The beaded nipples of her breasts chaffing his flat, brown nipples. Without hesitation he thrust easily into her, his body jolting with a quiver of desire at being back where it belonged, inside hers. A smug smile curved his lips when he felt her answering shudder. Thrusting, withdrawing, thrusting again, Nicholas thought he would burn up before she reached climax. He dragged her down on his swollen member, holding her hips, working her up and down. Her inner muscles clasped him dragging over his aroused shaft, making him groan in pleasure. Her nerves screamed in agony for the release that she felt building inside her. She wanted to feel it was through her, taking away everything except them and what happened between them when they came together like this. Nicholas' hands clasped her buttocks, bruising them with his fingers as he plunged into velvet warmth, feeling the release pounding in his blood, swelling him even more inside her, larger than he thought was possible. His mouth traveled frenziedly between her swollen breasts and her softly parted mouth. When he moved one hand between their straining bodies to find the bud of her desire, she went wild, moaning and grinding her hips in a crazy rhythm that drove him to attempt still greater heights, thrusting himself into her until he touched her womb. In wonder, he watched her expressive face as she exploded in climax, head thrown back, mouth slightly parted, blue eyes soft and glazed in passion. Then all thought vanished as his seed exploded from him in fevered release and he pounded into her until the final drop of his essence spilled from his body. Shuddering and spent they clung to each other, her body still wrapped around his, her head resting against his chest and his shaft still inside her. Neither of them wanted to move so, still clinging to each other, Nicholas walked out of the water and laid down on the soft grass. Isabella rested on his chest, their bodies still intimately joined. Nicholas slid his forefinger under her chin and lifted it, gazing into her eyes, before kissing her softly. His tenderness touched her and she couldn't believe the way he had once again seduced her protests from her. The last time this had happened she ended up pregnant. What if she was with child again? She couldn't bear losing another child like she had lost Hope. Hope. Nicholas didn't even know about her. Hadn't known that he had sired a daughter. She had to get out of here, she thought quickly. Being with Nicholas like this had her thinking about children and a happy family, something she knew would never happen if she married Nicki. "Really, Nicki, was it necessary to use force?" she spat, trying to get him angry enough to put her away from him. If she tried to leave on her own he wouldn't let her go without an explanation. "Force?" He practically choked on the word. "There was no force. Maybe you were a little reluctant at first, but in the end you couldn't deny what happened to you." "You're right. All this proved was that you can control my body through sex. You can make me respond to you." She sat up, the motion pushing his shaft deep inside her once more. His eyes widened as it swelled and pulsed, her movement making him as hard as rock again. He groaned when her muscles clenched convulsively around him again. A frustrated moan broke through her lips as once again the fever built inside her. She tipped her head back, wondering if she would ever get enough of him or if she was fated to be with him like this for the rest of their lives. No matter what she tried, she couldn't make herself climb off him and leave. Her body ached for the release he could bring her to. His hands were about to settle on her hips but she grabbed his wrists, forcing them over his head as she leaned forward kissing him wildly, her hands still holding his wrists pinned. "No hands Nicholas. This time its my turn." She placed her hands on his stomach, raising and lowering herself on him at a pace he thought would kill him until they cried out in mutual release and collapsed against each other. She was about to apologize for her words earlier, but this time Nicholas was angry and his words lashed her. "I must say Bella, if another man sampled your passion he would probably find you more experienced than the most proficient doxy." "Oh! You rotten bastard! I am a whore to no one! And I won't be one to you!" she cried, climbing off of him. Her muscles released his manhood difficultly, sliding over his flesh. He groaned when the cool air brushed against his shaft which still bore remnants of his seed and her sweet essence. She sashayed over to the dock where her clothes laid, her hair swishing in wet tangles down her back, trying to ignore the feel of his seed on her inner thighs and deep inside her, but each step she took reminded her. "I do say, Bella, that I will enjoy having you in my bed every night, instead of a secret meeting once every couple of years," he said, his gaze traveling over her body. She was deliciously curvy with slightly wide hips and large breasts that rose proudly, the rosy nipples beading in the brisk spring wind. She seemed to be some water nymph emerged from the lake to tempt men to their doom. She had tempted him, several times, and apparently he was doomed. Well, maybe doomed to spend the rest of his life rutting on her body. She knew he was trying to shame and humiliate her by keeping his gaze locked on her naked body, but she managed to ignore him. She angrily yanked on her clothes and managed to twist most of her hair up so that she could get it under her riding hat. "I may have to marry you. I may have to suffer you in my bed. But I do not have to suffer your taunts and lewd comments. If you wish to speak like that, go find a doxy, because I'll not bear it!" She launched herself onto Wind Dancer and set him into a gallop, racing away from the lake. "Trust me, Bella, suffering is the last thing you'll do in my bed," he called after her, chuckling slightly to himself, slightly amused by her pique. She was going to be a handful, but a very enjoyable handful. He pulled his clothes on and swung up onto his stallion, which also happened to be a black named Storm Rider, and pushed him into a gallop, following her trail back to the stables. The next day Isabella stood as silent as death in front of her family's estate, waiting for the Earl's coach to arrive. Her mother and father had come into her rooms early in the morning to make sure that everything she would need was packed and that she was up and preparing to leave. When she had returned from her swim the day before her parents had been outraged. Her father had come storming into her sitting room, after she had made herself decent by changing out of her riding outfit and sponging his seed from her thighs. He had lectured her thoroughly on proper conduct and her ability to cause a scandal no matter where she was or in who's presence she was in. When he finished he ordered her personal maid to come in and pack her things. She prayed for a miracle, prayed that the Earl's coach wouldn't show up. Her heart plummeted to her stomach and her hopes shattered when she saw the coach, with the Earl's seal emblazoned in silver on the side of it, slowly rumbling up the drive. It pulled to a stop in front of her and a tall, dark hair, dark eyed man stepped out, and it wasn't Nicholas. He quickly strode forward and without a word, grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her gloved fingers. "Miss Bennet, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." "And who are you?" she inquired, stepping away from him. "I am Gavin MacDuell, laird of the clan MacDuell, a friend of Nicholas. I was sent in his stead to fetch you to Briarwood." "Why, pray tell, is the Earl not here?" she asked, her voice dripping with resentment over the fact that Nicholas had ordered her to be ready and in front of her home promptly at noon, yet he couldn't even find the time to come and accompany her to his estate. "He was called away on business in Scotland. He should return within a fortnight. Until then you are to make yourself comfortable at Briarwood and make the preparations for the wedding. A seamstress has already been installed at Briarwood ready to help you make all the preparations that are necessary before Nicholas returns. The priest has already been notified the date of the wedding and will arrive two days before it is to occur. Your parents have been told that they are welcome a week before the wedding. Other than them no one else will be attending the wedding, except for myself of course. I'll be standing as best man to Nicki." The driver appeared to be done loading Isabella's luggage and Gavin helped her into the carriage. She had already made her farewells to her sister and her parents so they were not there to see her off. She wasn't one for long, sappy good-byes. About fifteen minutes after they had set out for Briarwood, which had been spent in silence, Isabella inquired about whether or not Marcus would be allowed to attended the wedding. "Nicholas informed me that Hartford wouldn't be allowed at the wedding. He seems to be very temperamental where Marcus is concerned. I couldn't figure it out myself at first, after all, I've met Hartford on several occasions and he seems a nice enough chap. I finally realized why Nicki resented him when I remembered that Marcus, whenever I saw him, always mentioned you. Everyone thought that he was in love with you, but it soon became apparent that he thought of you like a little sister. Unfortunately, Nicholas isn't of the same impression, no matter what he sees or what anyone tells him. He's very stubborn and has been all his life. When he gets something into his head, no one can get it out." Tears had started to burn at the back of her eyes the second he said that Nicholas had made it clear that Marcus wouldn't be allowed at the wedding. She had turned away from him, staring out the window of the coach, not really hearing what he was saying to her. Silent tears began to stream down her cheeks. She had been counting on Marcus being there for moral support. There was no way she would make it through the ceremony without knowing that he was behind her, giving her the strength to endure the proceedings. "Miss Bennet, are you all right?" Laird MacDuell asked, finally noticing the path of tears that was running down her rosy cheeks. She swiped at the tears that were beginning to dry on her cheeks. "I am quite fine," she assured him politely before changing the subject. "Laird MacDuell, why is it that you're the head of a Scottish clan, have a Scottish name, yet don't speak with a Scottish burr?" "I was wondering when you would notice. My father, Ian MacDuell, was laird of the clan MacDuell until he stepped down, bestowing me with the title four years ago, an uncommon occurrence I assure you. I expected to take over after his death. My mother, Rebecca Sinclair, lived in Northern England. When she was seventeen she met Ian and they fell in love. From the letters that she wrote they were soulmates, meant to be together forever. After a very short courtship, my father asked my mother to marry him. She agreed and they consummated the marriage before it occurred. That's when she became pregnant with me. Unfortunately, her parents weren't about to let her marry a Scot who was below her station in life. Since she was already with child, they had to bribe a man, who was in need of money, to marry her, child and all." "Her parents had her married the day before she was to meet Ian to elope. When she didn't show up the next day, he was crushed and assumed that she hadn't really loved him. He returned to Scotland and married a girl who had been in love with him her whole life. He had no heirs by this woman, who eventually died in childbirth, the child with her, and came in search of my mother, hoping against hope that he would find her. He had been searching for explanations, wondering if his life would have been different had he married her." "When he found her she had been staying at my London townhouse. My stepfather had been dead for two years. He knocked and the maid let him in. She led him to the parlor where my mother and I were enjoying a game of whist. When she looked up and saw him standing there, she fainted. For a moment I thought that he was going to fall as well. He just stood there staring in disbelief at me while I tended to my mother. You see, I looked just like him with the exception of the color of my hair, which I inherited from my mother." "Eventually, my mother came to and we all sat in the parlor talking about what had happened so many years ago, for there were a lot of questions to be answered. He had been so excited when it finally sank in that I was his son. And to make a long story short, he and my mother are now happily married and living in Glasgow." Isabella sat back, staring at Gavin in shock. The story had touched her heart so deeply. To find your true love like that, after all those years. She thought it was the most romantic story she had ever heard. Only Marcus and Emma knew that she was a pushover when it came to romance. Not that she would ever tell Gavin. He would tell Nicholas, who would use romance as a way to try and make her a docile wife. She kept silent for the remainder of the journey to Briarwood. She was glad that Gavin didn't try to get her to talk, she was busy forming a plan in her mind. Nicholas didn't want Marcus at the wedding. Well, he was going to be in for a surprise. She was going to invite, not only Marcus, but the two hundred people of the Ton that she was acquainted with, as well. She just hoped that the chapel was large enough to accommodate all the people. It was going to be the most talked about wedding of the Season. She took her time looking around Briarwood. When she had first arrived she hadn't expected the estate to be so large. Gavin informed her that there were over one hundred bedrooms in the entire home. There were also quaint cottages scattered over the estate that could also be used by couples. Nicholas' estate expanded over fourteen hundred and fifty acres. After a thorough examination of the rooms, taking in all the space, she decided that there would be more than enough room for all the people she planned to invite to the wedding. The nice thing was that Nicholas wouldn't be able to do anything about it because by the time he returned they would already be here for the ceremony, and he couldn't very well kick them out. He would be branded as rude and impolite and very few would wish to pay visits again. She couldn't wait until she got started on the preparations, because she planned on having the grandest wedding imaginable, at Nicholas's expense. The next day she met with the seamstress in the main parlor and began looking over designs for wedding dresses. It took a while but she finally settled on a simple white silk gown with a plunging square neckline that exposed an ample amount of her breasts. It had puffy, capped, shortsleeves and the skirt was white silk with a three foot train. Instead of a veil she chose a halo of white roses with white ribbons trailing down the back where they would fall to her lower back. She walked through the chapel telling the wedding planner what she wanted done. Each of the pews was to have a bouquet of pale orchids on them and she would also carry them as her bouquet. She wanted candles to be lit in a row along each wall. The bridesmaids, her sister Emma and her childhood friends, Elizabeth, Selene, and Amelia, were going to wear lavender silk gowns with capped sleeves. They would be carrying bouquets of white roses. The Games We Play She had the invitations made up and in the end she invited a hundred and seventy- five people, which would fill the church almost completely to capacity. All the rooms of the house were prepared to receive company and a week before the wedding guests began arriving. It seemed like everywhere Isabella went someone wanted another tour of the grounds or wanted to go horseback riding. Thank the Lord that her mother and sister were there to help her with the everyday job of arranging entertainment and meals for the guests. As the wedding day came closer and closer, Isabella's nerves began giving her more and more trouble. She had butterflies fluttering madly in her stomach every minute of the day. Much of it was in anticipation of Nicholas's return. He would no doubt be furious that she had invited so many people for the wedding, but then, that had been the plan. To get him angry. Maybe angry enough to call off the wedding. Gavin had been a big help over the week, running to pick up any last minute preparations that were needed. He had also volunteered to see the priest to the estate. He had also been helpful in calming Isabella's fears. Not a substitute for Marcus, who had arrived just the day before, but very helpful anyways. She finally found a moment alone so she curled up on the window seat in the bay window in her bedroom. It was there that Marcus found her, hiding. She had seen Nicholas's carriage pull up and quietly snuck away from her parents and the guests to hide until he summoned her. Marcus came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Bella, I've never known you to be afraid of anything, so why are you hiding from your betrothed? He came in the front entrance moments ago, shocked to the toes to find his house invaded with guests. I take it that you weren't supposed to invite anyone to this wedding?" "I just wanted to get a little revenge. He said that I wasn't to invite you to the wedding. I could have lived without all these other people being here, but he had no right to insist that I not invite my best friend." "So that's why you've been nervous ever since I got here. Well, Bella, I must say that you're in quite a fix. But I can't help you with this one. It's between you and Montgomery." He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. "I better go. If I'm not mistaken I believe that he's headed this direction, and I have no desire to be in the line of fire. Good luck." Just as he left through her private salon, Nicholas stormed in through the bedroom door that led to the hallway. His evergreen eyes flashed dangerously with an inner lightening that was meant for her. She cringed inwardly when he began to advance on her like a menacing panther ready to pounce on its prey. "H-H-Hello, N-Nicholas," she stuttered inanely as she rose to stand before him, trying to get a grip on herself and stand up to him as she had so many times before. "I come home to find a house full of guests that were not supposed to be here, roaming through the halls and congratulating me on my impending marriage. I was even told that I made a wonderful choice in a bride and that you were the epitome of goodness, a perfect hostess, making sure that everyone stayed entertained until the wedding. And then when I finally find you, all you can say is 'hello Nicholas'!" he stormed, beginning to pace the room. Agitatedly he ran a hand through his thick golden blond hair. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as if he was trying to make sure he controlled his anger and didn't take it out on her. He glanced at her, taking in her wide eyes and trembling lips. She was pallid and shaking. Her skin was drawn tight over her prominent cheekbones and she looked like a fragile porcelain doll that would break at the slightest touch. He had come in here ready to do some yelling, but now that he was looking at her, he couldn't see himself doing that. She didn't seem like the Isabella that had defiantly walked away from him after making frantic, passionate love. She didn't seem like the rebellious Isabella who defied him at every turn. There were times that he liked the rebellious Isabella. She had a fire and passion to her that no other woman he had ever met possessed. But right now she just looked vulnerable and upset. When he started to walk toward her he saw her flinch, as if she expected him to hurt her. Slowly he took her hands and she gazed at him, her eyes reflecting her confusion. He led her to a chair where he sat down and pulled her onto his lap. Slowly, without saying a word, his hand caressed her cheek, almost lovingly, before slipping behind her neck, his fingers weaving into her chestnut curls, as if testing its weight. She didn't know what was going on. Her mind was whirling with confusion. She had expected anger but this. . . this was completely unnerving her. His other hand came up to cup her other cheek and slowly he brought her face down toward his. Their lips met hesitantly at first, then with growing urgency as intense shocks of pleasure began to radiate through her body, beginning in her lips and shooting all the way to her toes. Her hands tangled in his hair, trying to pull him closer. He thought he was going to go crazy when she began kissing him back. She was so passionate and natural in her ardor. He hadn't been prepared for the effect she would have on his senses. His hand moved down the front of her dress and he cupped her breast in his palm, chaffing the nipple into a hardened bud of desire. "Nicholas," she whispered, her voice filled with desire, pressing herself against his palm, wanting more. The pleasure was pouring through her body and she returned his kisses wildly, her hands exploring his broad shoulders and muscled back, then sliding around front to glide over his stomach and chest. Almost shyly she unbuttoned his shirt and slid her hands inside rubbing her palms over his flat nipples, tormenting him as he was her. He stopped kissing her and threw his head back letting the exquisitely pleasurable torture run through him. Her silky soft lips spread butterfly kisses over his throat, before she climbed off his lap and knelt between his legs. He gazed down at her wondering what she was doing, but all thought flew from his head when her lips closed over his left nipple. She tangled her slender fingers in the golden hair that was dusted across his chest. When she flicked his nipple with her soft pink tongue he thought he would go out of his mind. His body was pulsing with arousal and if she didn't stop soon the marriage would be consummated before the ceremony. Gently he tilted her chin up and looked into her clear amber eyes. He was startled by the emotions swirling in their depths. He hadn't counted on her becoming so involved in what was happening that her rejection of marriage would be forgotten. He also saw confusion and surprise twirling in the depths of her eyes. Suddenly she jerked away from his hand and jumped up, turning away from him and wrapping her arms around herself. He could feel the struggle going on inside her. So he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. She stood there stiff as a rail for a moment or two, feeling his arousal pressing against her and for a moment the urge to turn around and pick up where he had stopped her was intense. But she didn't give into it and finally she leaned back and relaxed against him. Her thoughts were in a whirl. Ho could she have forgotten her purpose so quickly? She had wanted to anger him, yet when he was angry, she had backed down and become a frightened little mouse cowering in front of the house cat. Then with just a few caresses she had lost herself in his arms, wanting the pleasure that had racked her body. She knew where things would have gone if he hadn't ended it when he did. She had kissed him, wanting him with everything inside her, and he had caressed her into forgetfulness and passionate compliance. She had even been so involved that she had taken over ardently, eagerly caressing and kissing him in response. What had she done? Each time he touched her she had made her weakness apparent. He now knew how to get her to bend to his will. All he would have to do is kiss her and she would give in to him, because she knew that she couldn't withstand him, no matter how much she wanted to. "Bella," Nicholas crooned hoarsely in her ear. Shivers ran down her body at the feel of his warm breath dusting against her. Goosebumps broke out all over her when he brushed her thick waves of hair aside and placed a kiss at the base of her neck, near her shoulder. "I know that your first instinct is to resist me, but I wish you wouldn't. I want this marriage to work. I want us to be a family in all ways. I think I've been falling in love with you ever since I first met you. Do you remember? It was long before the night I took your innocence at the Attherton's ball. Your laughter, wit, and radiant beauty captivated me from the moment Amelia introduced us." His words were gentle and touched her heart more than she could bear. She remembered being introduced to him at a dinner party that a mutual friend of theirs had given. He had asked her to dance and the whole night he had occupied her time, teasing her with jokes, whisking her around the dance floor, her only dance partner for the evening, causing the old biddies to gossip about their relationship. "I know we've said things to anger each other, but I never meant them. You just made me so crazy, turning me inside out with feelings I had never known," he whispered. A single tear slid down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away. He wished she would say something, anything to let him know what she was thinking. She had seemed to be as much involved in what had happened as he had been. Finally, unable to take the silence anymore, he turned her to face him. "Would you say something, Bella? I can't read your mind." She looked up at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes. Within a half hour of his arrival home she had come closer to him than she swore she would allow herself to. Pushing her tumultuous feelings to the back of her mind and heart, her eyes became hooded, shielding the emotions that had been swirling through them just moments before. "Really Nicholas, I'm quite fine. I don't know why you would worry so. It's not like what we were doing affected me any more this time than it had the last times we came together." Her heart cracked at the words, but they had to be said. She couldn't get close to him. Not when he was the man who was taking away her freedom. She just wasn't completely sure that her freedom was worth this. She didn't know if it was worth giving up Nicholas' love. But the decision had been made and now it was out of her hands. His eyes flashed dangerously and a muscle began to tick in his clenched jaw. Anger poured through his body, replacing the arousal that had, moments before, been coursing through him. Her words lashed him, throwing him off balance for a moment, but he vowed that her words wouldn't wound him permanently. He had told her parents that she was to be used to breed an heir for his title, but he hadn't wanted them to know that he loved her, not when he hadn't told her yet. And now he had told her. He told her that wanted her, all of her, to surrender unconditionally to him. He wanted her passion, her joy, her sorrow, and her pain. He wanted to share his life with her. And with a couple of sentences, she had destroyed those wishes and he had come to a new drastically different conclusion. As soon as he was assured that she was with child he would leave. He owned two Indian palaces and estates throughout England and Scotland. Maybe once he was far enough away he could put her out of his mind, he could forget that he loved her, forget the face that he knew would haunt his dreams for some time. "Very well, Isabella," he said, drawing himself up, standing rigidly in front of her. "For a moment I thought that we might be able to make our impending marriage work, but I see that I was mistaken. I deluded myself to think that I loved you. That you could love me too. What a fool I was. You must have had a great laugh at my expense. I wonder, how many other men have fallen under the impression that they are in love with you? Were you a proficient tease when you were young, tempting boys into arousal then pulling back and saying no? Tempting them into giving their hearts to you then crushing that heart beneath your foot. I can imagine you like that." He strode to the door and put his hand on the doorknob. But before he left he turned and faced her, his face expressionless and unreadable. "Since you find me lacking, I will not touch you more than is necessary to produce a child. Once you are with child, I will be leaving this place. You may stay. A staff will be left to see to your comfort. When the child is born, I will return and take him or her with me. They will be raised in my care." Without a backwards glance he walked out, leaving Isabella staring at the door that slammed in her face. Never before in her life had she felt so alone and hurt. But she refused to give into the tears that threatened to flood down her face at any moment. The feelings of guilt and sorrow wouldn't leave her heart, no matter how much she willed them to. Feelings of remorse bubbled through her as she realized that she may have just made the biggest mistake of her life. Nicholas was not a man to make idle threats. Had she just ruined her chance for some sort of happiness? His words pounded through her brain, bringing pangs of pain to her. "I love you." Three simple words that should have made her deliriously happy, ruined her day. For a while after their second time together she had dreamed of him riding up in his carriage like a white knight and saying those words, taking her from her parents, marrying her and starting a family with her. That dream had faded years ago, but now it was coming true, only she wasn't sure she wanted it anymore. She didn't want a marriage where she would be a wife that was easily dismissed. She wanted to be treated as his equal, vital in the decisions that they made. She curled up in the chair where Nicholas had been sitting moments before. It was still warm and slightly indented from his presence. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her forehead against her knees, closing her eyes tight, trying to block out the repetitive words that echoed through her head; I love you . . . I love you . . . I love . . . I . . . On her wedding day Bella was a mass of nerves. Her mother and bridesmaids had been helping her prepare all morning. The time had come for them to take their places, but before they did, Isabella snuck a look at Nicholas. He was standing at the front of the chapel looking as grim as Death and none too happy to be there. Gavin was behind him and he saw Isabella peeking around the corner at the back of the church. He could tell by her expression that she was nervous. As well she should be. He had spent last night trying to convince Nicholas out of the idea of leaving when Isabella became pregnant, with no luck. He had even tried to broach the subject about taking away the babe, but Nicholas had practically bitten his head off. Nicki then managed to drink enough brandy to cause him to have a massive headache this morning, so he wasn't in the best of moods. Gavin tried to reassure Isabella with a gentle smile but he had a feeling he hadn't done much good. The priest took his place and the music started. Nicholas stared silently at the women walking down the aisle toward him and taking their place behind where Bella would stand. Finally, she was coming toward him and it was as if a ray of sunshine had burst through the dark windows of the church and illuminated everything in its radiant, heavenly light. She seemed an angel come down to earth just for him. Her hair hung in cascading waves to her waist and she had a halo of white roses set upon her chestnut curls. Her dress scooped low to expose an ample amount of the ivory flesh of her breasts. Breasts that yesterday he had been caressing and tormenting with his knowledgeable fingers. God he had to stop thinking about that! He hadn't been able to sleep last night because his thoughts had dwelled on her, her body, her attitude, the way she stood up to him like no other woman had. He wasn't looking forward to the wedding night. He knew that bedding her would make it harder when he left. But he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of her body. He had proven that each time he had bedded her before. She stared at him, looking for some sign that his anger might have cooled, but she saw only contempt in his eyes. She had thought that was what she wanted, for him to be totally indifferent to her, to ignore her unless there was some social affair to attend. But now, seeing him standing there so rigid and expressionless she knew that wasn't at all what she needed. Mentally she made herself stop thinking like a lovesick young girl. She had always been strong and in the coming months she knew that she would need that strength; when he left and when he would take the babe that she knew she would give him. But now she wondered if even she would have the strength to endure both losses. The ceremony proceeded, the couple standing a foot apart from each other, not even clasping hands, as was tradition, during the exchange of the vows. It moved fairly quickly, and soon enough the bride and groom were walking back down the aisle, still not touching, and under the rain of rice they headed into the banquet hall to celebrate. Isabella took her appointed place next to her new husband. Husband, a word she thought she would never call any man. She glanced sideways at him, and watched as he roared with laughter at something that Gavin said to him. He looked so at ease and happy, so unlike he was with her, that her breath hitched in her throat. He caught her staring at him and she quickly turned away, saying something to her mother. He didn't know what to do with her. She was so confusing to understand. One minute she was responsive and yielding and the next she was scornful and heartless. He had sworn that her words wouldn't wound him, but they had, more than she would ever know. And he would stick to the vow he made and leave when she was with child. He would never let her closer than he had to. He wouldn't risk his heart like he had again. Malcom Bennet stood to propose a toast to the newly wedded couple. "Daughter, your mother and I had the pleasure, and sometimes pain, of raising you. It was our greatest hope that someday you would marry. For a while that hope was becoming a desolate fantasy, and then Lord Montgomery asked for your hand. We only hope that you can find true happiness in marriage and childbirth with your new husband. Now get up and dance with the Earl, so the rest of us can dance as well." Isabella looked at Nicholas with apprehension coiling tight like a fist in her stomach. He looked just as uncomfortable about it as she. Slowly he stood and took her hand, helping her rise. Carefully he led her out onto the ballroom floor and took her into his arms. She cautiously avoided looking him in the eye as he twirled her gracefully around the floor, her skirts swishing against the colored marble. Watching them one would have thought that they had been matched for years, perfect their moves that so complemented each other. "Well, I must say Bella, that you must have had a great amount of practice to move so gracefully. Did you dance with many men while growing up, learning to tease them with the swishing of your skirts against their legs, tantalizing them with the scent of roses on your skin, the feel of your warm breath brushing against their neck as they bent down to whisper something in your ear? Are you a proficient flirt and tease?" he whispered scornfully. The Games We Play She just stared at him, startled by the cold viciousness that filled the depths of his eyes when he watched her. What had she expected? A warm look filled with caring. She turned away, loath to deny the charges, knowing that he would believe what he wished, no matter her protests to the contrary. "What, Isabella? No denials?" he laughed softly in her ear, causing shivers to course down the length of her body. He knew just what to do to get a response from her. "What is the point of denying it? If I did you wouldn't believe me. You would just go on thinking what you wanted, finding me guilty in your mind." They finished the minuet in silence, avoiding each other's eyes. When they walked off the ballroom floor, it seemed to everyone in the room that the couple was not happy in each other's company, and many wondered why they had bothered to marry at all. "Mother, I swear to you that this marriage will never work, and I curse the day that you and father fated me to this. I am doomed to spend the rest of my life married to a man who loathes me," Isabella complained as they ascended the stairs to her rooms to prepare her for her wedding night. Genevive looked away ashamed of her part in her daughter's unhappiness. For years she had wanted nothing but her daughter's happiness and joy. She would never let Bella know that she was remorseful over this. It would only make her daughter beg for help to escape her husband. "Why would Nicholas loath you darling?" she asked, not understanding why the Earl would offer for a girl he did not care for at all. "He hates me because I said something heartless to him yesterday." she replied, muttering "Not that I blame him," under her breath. "You needn't be so melodramatic, Isabella. It's not as if we sentenced you to death. And I'm sure Nicholas doesn't hate you. Maybe, if you can't come to love Nicholas, you will find happiness in motherhood," Genevive coaxed hopefully. "That won't be possible if he takes my children from me," she muttered under her breath as they walked into her room. Slowly her mother began to help her from the constriction of her wedding gown and into the elegant nightgown that had been given to her by her sister for her first night as a married woman. She let it slither over her head, a rush of cool midnight blue silk with spaghetti strap ties at each shoulder and slits up both sides to her hips, exposing her long, sculpted legs. Isabella turned around and her mother unbound her hair for her and she shook it, letting it fall in untamed waves to her lower back. "Daughter, I take my leave now and leave you with this thought. Try to make the most of what you deem a bad situation, though, Lord knows, no other woman I know would see it that way." She whispered her final thought and quietly slipped out the door. Isabella paced restlessly around the room, not dare glancing at the bed, knowing what would soon occur there and how she knew that she would enjoy it. She could never hide her excitement from Nicholas. He fueled her body as if she were dry wood just waiting for a match to light her. He was that match and when she was lit she burned out of control, taking him with her. And she would accept it, for he would not let her turn away from him and make this a marriage in name only. She knew that she couldn't abide a marriage such as that either. Her body lived for the pleasure that she knew only he could give her. Nicholas stood outside her door, hearing her pacing nervously around the room waiting for him. He had planned on making her wait for several hours, giving her a chance to become thoroughly agitated, before making an appearance. Finally he saw the lights go off under the crack between the floor and the bottom of the door and he heard the bedcovers rustle as she turned back the sheets, climbing between them. Now was the time to make his entrance. He opened the door slowly, not making a sound as his bare feet slid over the wood floor. He shut it behind him, not even letting the small click of it shutting reach her ears. He leaned back against the door and stared at the bed where she lay, her thick chestnut hair fanning behind her like a regal crown. Her eyelashes fell like dark crescent moons against her pale ivory cheeks and her full, pink lips were slightly parted and gentle breath was exhaled between them. She looked like an ethereal angel. He was loath to wake her but he didn't intend to be cheated out of tasting the pleasures of her body just because she looked like an angel in her sleep. "Isabella," he said sharply. She jerked awake, as though she hadn't been sleeping deeply, and sat upright, glaring at the intruder to her sleep. "Were you ever planning to show up or was it your plan to make me wait for a couple of hours then come and demand your husbandly rights?" His expression of shock betrayed him and she knew that she was right. "You look surprised Nicholas. I don't blame you. Not many people know of my ability to know the way a person thinks through just a few meetings. Why do you think I shut out the light and climbed into bed? I knew you would come once you thought me to be asleep." "Did I give myself away while I stood outside your room?" "No, but it is my wish to have this over quickly so that we may forget about this night, though I know that I have many to endure in the months to come. But I wish to get it over with all the same, and have a peaceful nights sleep once you retire to your own chamber." "Endure, Bella? You won't have to endure anything tonight. You will be an active participant in the excruciating pleasure that I can give you." He smiled sinisterly. Slowly he stripped away his drawers, the only article of clothing he had been wearing, and watched as her eyes grew wide, taking in his naked body. She stared at his muscular male body, remembering the way he filled her, possessing her completely. Remembering the way he had thrust into her, touching her womb, pushing her to complete surrender of everything she was. He stalked her, advancing on her, waiting to see if she would withdraw or if she would stand her ground. She stayed where she was, not looking away as he reached over and untied one of the straps of her nightgown and let it fall, exposing an ivory breast. He cupped it in his palm and stroked her nipple until it beaded into a hard nub. Gently he pinched it and smirked when she tipped her head back, her lips parted into a small O of surprise. He pulled back the bedsheet that had covered her. Still stroking her breast, he undid the other strap of her nightgown and let it slither to her waist. Then he slowly pulled the gown off of her and threw it across the room. He stepped back slightly, his gaze traveling over her body, which was bathed in moonlight streaming in the window behind her. Her breasts rose large and proud, his hand having gone back to stroking one. Her stomach was flat and smooth. His gaze didn't stop there though. It was drawn to the thatch of chestnut curls between her long, sculpted legs. Slowly his gaze traveled back up until he was staring into her eyes once more. Her body had changed, maturing in the three years that he had been gone. He had clearly seen how much she had changed the other day at the lake. Breasts that he remembered as small and pert, had become large and round, more responsive to his touch. Her body had assumed an hourglass figure, totally different from the slim, petite girl he had initiated sexually on that stone bench five years ago. He climbed onto the bed, stretching his hard, muscled length against her. Reverently he cupped her other breast, chaffing that dusky rose nipple as well, and leaned down to kiss her lips. The kiss began with a gentle hesitantness, but soon they both discovered they wanted more and it deepened to all consuming. Isabella slid her arms around Nicholas's neck and pressed herself as close to him as she could, not shying away at the feel of his hard, aroused manhood against her. He clutched at her lower back, trying to pull her even closer, as if he wanted to absorb her into him. His tongue gently parted her lips and thrust inside her mouth tasting her, the sweetness that seemed to be hidden behind walls most of the time, was present, his for the taking. And he took it without hesitation. When her tongue touched his, he thought he felt steam pouring from his body. Their tongues mated, entwining, in a preview of what was to come. This wasn't going the way he had planned. Of course he wanted to pleasure her and find pleasure in her body, but he hadn't counted on the feelings that she could evoke in him by just lying naked in front of him, as still as a porcelain statue. He wasn't supposed to be getting so involved in this. He had always been able to keep his emotions separated when he made love to other women, yet he couldn't seem to do it with her. He never could whenever they were together. She made him feel things that he didn't want to feel. She made him love her. Everything she did intrigued him; the way she her temper flared, the way she walked, her petticoats swishing lightly, the way she kissed. As he reached out to cup her cheek in his palm, he vowed that he would not care for her. He would not. He had offered his love once and wouldn't be so foolish again. "Nicholas, I want you. . ." she said softly, her body arching under his caresses. She broke off when he placed two slender fingers against her lips.It seemed that those few words broke a dam of pent up longing inside him and he rolled, bringing her on top of him. She straddled his waist, staring down at him. Nicholas's hands settled on her knees, then moved slowly upward, caressing her softly, causing goosebumps to spring up over her silken flesh. Deftly he leaned up and captured a puckered nipple between his lips swirling his tongue over it, his hands stroking the soft flesh of her inner thighs.. Shock waves rocked her body, shooting from the tips of her breasts to that most secret part of her and she tipped her head back in silent agony. She wiggled against him causing him to tear his mouth from her breast and groan. She stared at him, not wanting to be a passive participant in this, but wanting to touch and taste him as he was her. Before he could stop her she slid off of him and knelt between his legs. "What are you doing, Bella?" he asked hoarsely, his eyes heavy lidded withpassion. "You always seem to be in control when we're together. I want my turn." Without waiting for a response she leaned up across his chest and ran her hands over the soft whorls of golden hair that blanketed his sleek muscles. She dragged a slender finger with a sculpted nail down the center of his chest, over his stomach, and all the way to his groin. She was fascinated by the way his muscles leapt with each caress of her hands over his taut, tan skin. He watched her, his breath coming in soft, shallow pants, as her lips finally descended toward his flat, brown nipple. Like he had done to her, she closed her lips around it and flicked her tongue back and forth, tormenting him. Her roaming hands wouldn't be still and his eyes, which had drifted closed, snapped open when he felt her hands come around his hardened shaft, squeezing softly then releasing, only to start again. His back arched off the bed, lifting her with him. When she slithered down his body and flicked the head of his penis with her tongue, he thought he was going to explode. Tantalizingly, she ran her soft pink tongue down the entire length of his shaft. He felt his blood running hot through his veins, pulsing through him and held onto his control only by a thin thread. Before he could stop her, not wanting to spill his seed, she took him fully into her mouth and began to suck slowly, her hair falling around her in a soft curtain. It took a few agonizing seconds, but he finally reached down and lifted her hair out of the way to watch her torture and torment him. Finally, right when he thought he would burst, spilling himself into her mouth, he reached down and pulled her up so that she laid, once more, across his chest. Then he rolled her under him and he shifted comfortably to fit between her legs. "My turn," he whispered, his voice soft and hoarse. He then spread soft, butterfly kisses to her earlobe and sucked on it gently while his hands roamed untamed over her body. She was screaming with need when he slid down between her legs to put her through the torture she had made him endure. His hot breath fanned the curls at the apex of her thighs, stirring them softly. Gently he parted the folds of her womanhood and she moaned softly when his mouth latched onto her, his tongue slipping inside to taste her. He groaned when the warm honey of her essence flowed into his mouth. He was thrilled to know that she was as aroused as he. Slowly he drove her mad with need, her hips lifting into his hands, trying to get closer to the sweet torture that he was putting her through. Just when she thought she couldn't bear anymore, the tight coil of desire that had been building inside her burst, sending radiant waves of ecstasy flashing through her body in blinding rays. Her whole body arched as convulsive shudders wracked her. She clutched the bedsheets in a frenzy of completion. He gave her no time to think. While her climax was pouring through her he slid up over her, bracing his weight on his forearms. He reached back with one arm and raised Bella's legs around his waist, then he slid, ever so slowly into her welcoming heat, stretching the resisting muscles of her passage. God, she was as tight as a fist closing around his hardened length and squeezing. He pushed into her, her muscles stretching under the gentle pressure of his thick length sliding into her. He thrust little by little into her, driving her insane with the feel of him, but not giving her all of him just yet. He looked down on her; her eyes clenched shut and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin making crescent moons and even drawing some blood. She looked every bit the wanton woman in the throes of ecstasy. "Nicholas. . . please!" she cried lifting her hips to try and force him completely into her. At the same moment, he thrust deeply, the head of his shaft touching her womb. Her cries echoed off the walls of Briarwood and the people still celebrating in the banquet hall smiled ruefully to themselves. She pressed her face into the damp curve of his neck, breathing in his scent. She felt his muscles trembling, knowing that he was holding back, not wanting it to be over right away. She knew that his control must have been close to snapping, feeling the shaking of his body, and the sweat that slicked his back and chest and beaded on his forehead. She moved against him, testing his length with a slow dip and arch of her hips, her body accepting the thick length of him. "Bella," he groaned. His restraint shattered and he moved within her. She writhed beneath him, rising to meet his every thrust, meeting his passion, trying to ease the tendrils of desire that weaved inside her. Her hands clawed his slick back and she twisted beneath him, trying to get closer, reaching for the shattering climax that she knew was coiling inside her like a spring. He thrust harder and faster, not being able to get deep enough. She made a mockery of the tight control that he usually kept in tight rein. She met him thrust for thrust, her nerves screaming in agony for the delicious torture to end, yet never wanting it to be over. Nicholas's control finally snapped and he felt her inner muscles clench him as his seed spurted from his body in hot bursts at the mouth of her womb. She cried out at the feel of his seed, the driving pumps that accompanied those bursts, and the world shattered around her, her back arching and her hips rising off the bed, lifting into his, spasms shaking her to the very soul. Nicholas collapsed into her arms. She slid her hand down his back, absorbing the damp heat of his skin. She smiled against the top of his head, the golden waves tickling her chin. He lay as naked as a babe in her arms, his face turned into her shoulder, his weight pressing her down into the soft, goose-down mattress. The heat of his body kept her warm. She breathed in the scent of him, the spicy unique scent that she had always been aware that only he possessed, mingling with the scent of love making. She ran her hands down his back soothing him as an aftershock of climax shook him, causing her inner muscles to tighten around his shaft. There weren't any words to describe the splendor of it. He cared for her, even if he refused to admit it. He had taken his time, kissing and caressing her. He had taken her with gentleness and passion. These weren't the actions of a man who hated her, who only wanted an heir. And it wasn't simply lust. It couldn't have been. Lust would have driven him to ram into her with unbridled passion. He stirred, bracing himself on his forearms to look down into her face. She stared up into the stunning beauty of eyes the color of India jade. Turmoil swirled in those heavenly green depths. She slid the tip of her forefinger over the smooth curve of his lower lip. "That was wonderful Nicholas. I've never felt quite so spectacular," Isabella said slumberously. He glanced away from her. "It was just sex, Bella. A pleasant diversion that, for as long as men and women have been on Earth, has been required to produce a child. Women have always been used sexually to provide men with heirs to a throne, a title, or an estate. Truthfully, you are nothing better than a whore who sells herself for a couple of pounds at the local whorehouse, except that you are well bred, have good manners, have been schooled so that you are intellectually stimulating, and know how to entertain a large group of socially prominent people." She stared at him, her eyes wide with confusion and brimming with tears. "Why are you saying these things Nicholas? I am not a whore. I don't give myself to any strange man who will pay twenty pounds for use of my body. The only reason you got the privilege is becuase we married. I am not a whore!" "Yet you gave yourself to a strange man. You let him take your innocence on a cold stone bench at one of the most important balls of the Season. I didn't even have to pay for the use of your body. You let me have it. You saved me twenty pounds by giving yourself to me that night. I was just going to go down to the waterfront and pay for a doxy, but you gave me another option." He sighed softly. "Think what you want, Isabella. But the fact of the matter is that as of today, you sold yourself to me. You're my whore as far as I'm concerned." Anger flickered with the frustration deep inside her. She wanted to scream, to grab him and hold him until she was certain he didn't mean any of the ugly things he said. He pulled out of her and climbed out of the bed, turning to her, his face carved into hard lines, his eyes glittering with suppressed rage. "You are my wife to give me an heir, that's it. Don't expect anything else from me, except my presence in your bed every night until you conceive." He pulled on his drawers. She clutched the bedsheet against her breasts as he walked to the door. He paused at the door leading to the withdrawing chamber. "I'm through with you. At least for tonight." "You can forget about coming back. Ever!" she snapped pridefully. He stalked her, each stride filled with the powerful grace that was so much a part of him. "Get this straight, Bella. You're mine." He cupped her cheeks in his hands. "I'll take you when I want you. Where I want you. For as long as I want you." He clamped his mouth over hers, devouring any protest that she might have made. He kissed her until he felt the tension seep from her body and she was pressing against him. Too soon he was stepping away, leaving her dazed and hungry for all he could give. She sagged back against the pillow staring up into his furious green eyes. The Games We Play We had had moved from our home of five years to one four hours away, leaving our friends behind but not forgotten. Our best friends Scott and Sam were coming up to see us for the first time. We were going to show them our new home and our new town. I hoped to show them a bit more than that though. Liz, my wife, was very excited by the visit since she had been missing having close friends despite trying to forge new friendships with neighbors and co-workers. I loved watching her five foot five inch body cleaning and cooking. When she bent over to my heart started to race as her great butt was shown to me through her tight jeans. Her 42fDD's were hidden behind a thick sweatshirt though, disappointing me. Of course her blue eyes and shoulder length blond hair always made me happy. Scott and Sam were just a couple hours from showing up so I thought the time was right to start my wife's motor running. I walked over to her as she was making dinner and started kissing her neck and running my hands up her thighs. This is when she smelled her favorite cologne on my chest. "You're being bad! Now let me cook or I will burn the dinner," She said as I continued to kiss her neck and cheeks. "Oh, just want you to have fun tonight." "I will but not if you get me all turned on. I won't be able to play the games." I laughed inside because the games I was planning on playing needed her to be more than just turned on. Around eight Scott and Sam pulled up to the house. We welcomed them in and sat down to dinner. Sam was a redhead that also looked good in a tight pair of jeans. Her breasts were smaller than Liz's but she had nothing to be ashamed of. Scott and I had been confused for brothers for years. Both of us were 6 foot tall, lean but muscular and had sandy blond hair. Our discussion went down hill as the beer and margaritas flowed. Soon we started talking about sex, which happened every time we were together drinking. We had experimented sexually with Scott and Sam a number of times, everything from innocent games of strip poker to having sex together. While we had never had sex with the others spouse we all had received oral from them. Our wives had even gone down on each other a couple times. As soon as dinner was over the girls started to clean up, but this started with them pouring more margaritas themselves. I pulled Scott to the side to show him my office and the shop. As we got into the office I closed the doors and explained to what I hoped would happen tonight. I told him that I knew he wanted to screw Liz since he had always joked about what she must be like in bed. I also told him that I had a couple games that Liz had talked about; I thought they would break the ice and get things moving. We started by playing a DVD game about movies. Not one of the games that Scott and I wanted but it got things moving. Scott then said he wanted to choose the next game. He decided on Jenga, just like I told him to. This was one that Susie and I had played about a month back and had written on each block a number and two letters. As we set it up Sam noticed the writing and asked what it was for. "The numbers are always either a one or two. Those correspond to the pieces of clothing that someone of your choosing has to take off if you get the block out successfully," I explained to her, "but we can play it regular if you want." "Sounds great!" Scott shouted and then looked at Sam expectedly. "What are the letters for?" She asked a little hesitantly. "Well one of the letters stand for different sex acts. The other is which side of you, left or right, has to perform the act on you for 30 seconds. The sex only starts after everyone is naked though. But again we don't have to play that way if you don't want to." Scott said he was game but wouldn't force Sam into anything. Sam thought for a moment and decided that she would play it with the alternate rules, but if she was uncomfortable we would stop. Liz seconded that and we sat down were boy-girl around the coffee table. I sat next to Sam on the floor, and Scott was right next to Liz on the couch. Within about 10 minutes everyone was naked. Sam and Liz looked a little nervous. Sam then glanced over at me, I smiled at her and then she looked down. I don't think she expected me to be fully erect already and her eyes got a little bigger. I notice Liz do the same thing to Scott. Scott and I winked at each other and moved on with the game. Sam was the first to draw a tile with the sex rules in place. She drew an "OL," which meant that I would go down on her. Scott started the timer and I started to lick. Her pussy was moist already; apparently we had managed to turn her on. She started to moan as I worked her clit with my tongue and slipping it inside her. Her legs tightened around my head as she came, her juices coated my chin. The buzzer went off and I sat up. Sam looked up at me and smiled. Scott was up next. He drew a "HL." Sam had to jack him off. Scott seamed to really enjoy the attention, as she gripped his balls and rubbed his cock up and down. The buzzer went off soon and Liz took her turn. She drew an "OR" and I moved over to her and started to lick her very wet pussy. I knew how to bring her to orgasm quickly and she came twice in the 30 seconds. My turn was next. I drew a "SL." It's a good thing that I had gotten Liz really tuned on last turn because I got to have sex with her now. She moved onto the floor and spread her legs, licking her lips invitingly. I moved on top of her and started to push inside her cunt slowly. I heard Scott start the timer and I started to thrust quicker. Liz really got into the show. She started moaning. Her back started to arch under me as my pace quickened. I loved the feel of her tight pussy. I could feel her G spot brush the head of my cock with every thrust. She came under me with a loud gasp and then collapsed. I continued to thrust for a few more seconds until the buzzer went off. I reluctantly slid out of her. She groaned but went on with the game. Sam looked a bit nervous at her next draw but carefully slid a tile out. "SL," she read nervously from the tile and then looked at Scott. He told her she did not have to if she did not want to. She looked at Liz and then slowly at me. She smiled slowly and told everyone she wasn't sure if she could do it. Wanting to keep things going I told her that Liz could take my spot if she wanted her too. Liz looked very surprised but said she was game if Sam was. Sam thought for a second and said "OK." Scott and I looked at each other happily as Liz moved over to Sam and gently pushed her back. Liz spread Sam's legs and then lowered her head to her moist box. Scott started the timer but set it for 60 seconds instead of 30. He wanted to enjoy watching the show the girls were about to give us. Liz started to lick Sam's clit slowly and tentatively at first. As Sam started to gyrate her hips in time to my wife's licks. Sam then started to say things to Liz that surprised me coming out of Sams mouth like "Eat my cunt bitch," and "Suck on my clit." Sam grabbed my wife's head and pushed it into her crotch, holding it there while my wife pleasured her expertly. It was incredibly erotic and three orgasms later the buzzer went off. Liz then moved up and kissed Sam deeply. They stayed in the embrace for a long time, French kissing. Scott finally said "My turn," and they broke the kiss. Scott pulled his block out of the teetering stack. It was a "OL." Sam looked at him and said that she needed a few minutes and maybe Liz could do it. Liz looked at Sam and then at Scotts waiting cock. "Well since I took my husbands turn, and just performed orally on your wife so I think we should upgrade that tile to sex," Liz said to Scott and Sam. Sam looked surprised but then said that she was okay with it. Liz lay back on the couch and Scott moved over her. Susie grabbed his penis and guided into her waiting pussy. As he gently entered her she let out a light gasp. Scott then started to thrust into Liz harder and faster then I ever thought possible. Liz arched her back and then screamed Scott's name. This only fueled his passion and he drove into her even harder. Sam was a bit surprised at his ferocity and moved over to sit closer to me on the floor. Sam gently grabbed my cock and started rubbing. This was turning her on as much as it was me. We were seeing our spouses have sex with someone else for the first time and it was amazing. It was after Liz came a second time I realized we forgot to set the timer. I called time and they slowly separated. The passion in their eyes was a little bit disconcerting but I knew it was because they just had sex with each other for the first time. After a few moments to compose herself, Liz grabbed the next tile. She was about to read what it said when the pile toppled over towards her. "Well Liz looses," I said happily. "What does that mean?" Sam asked. "Well we get to have our way with her and she can't do anything about it," I explained. Scott and Sam were a bit confused but I just grabbed Liz by the hand and took her to our bedroom. I ripped off the top sheet to expose the tie downs underneath. Liz lay down on the bed and we tied her down. I then got the blindfold and her walkman out of the drawer and put both on her, turning on the music. I told Sam and Scott that now she could not see or hear us. Sam smiled and said now she could return the pleasure that she got earlier. Sam then went over and started to lick at Liz's waiting pussy. Liz started to thrust her hips up into the Sam's mouth. Liz had no idea who was pleasuring her but it was obvious she liked it. Scott the moved over Liz's head putting his cock to her mouth. She took it into her mouth and started sucking for all she was worth. Not wanting to be left out I moved behind Sam and for the first time begun having sex with another woman. Hey pussy felt wonderful. She had a small amount of hair around her hole and with every thrust it tickled my balls. I couldn't believe that this was happening. Sam started to eat Liz with more passion with every thrust I put into her. It was incredible watching Sam suck on my wife's pussy as she sucked on my best friends cock. It was to intense for me and I came inside Sam as the walls of her cunt constricted around my cock. As soon as I pulled out Sam moved up and pushed her husband out of the way. Scott took the hint and moved to start having sex with my wife again, putting a pillow under her ass. While I waited to recover I watch Liz eat my cum out Sam's pussy and Scott pounding into my wife. Liz loved the attention she was getting and began to have a string of orgasms. Sam not to be outdone started screaming a string of cuss words as she too started to com. Between Liz and Sam cumming Scott could not contain himself. He came into Liz with a guttural grunt. Liz loved the feeling of come flooding into her and she began to have another orgasm. As soon as Scott pulled his already softening dick out, Sam fell face forward and began to lick my wife pussy. She sucked on her hole trying to get the jizz out of Liz. They were 69'ing which made me even get instantly hard again. I moved to start fucking my wife and was surprised when Sam licked my cock with every stroke. I could still feel Scott's cum in my wife and it was incredibly warm. My wife started to orgasm and the constriction of her walls plus Sam's tongue sliding on my cock made it impossible to hold out any longer. I pulled out and started to spray sperm onto Sam's face and my wife's well used cunt. Sam and I looked at each other and smiled. We left Liz tied up all night, but took the headphones out. We would leave her for a while and then come back and start up again. We even let her sleep that way as we all slept around her. It made it convenient to have sex with her when we woke up. It was the most incredible night of our lives, at least until we played twister the next night! The Games We Play Strangely enough, it was one of those crazy games that two people sometimes dream up when under great pressure. Roommates in college, they had danced around each other in their freshman year without either admitting their mutual attraction. Michelle and Barbara had cried together at the summer break, and swearing to keep in touch had also agreed to room together again once the fall session began. Throughout the summer, they phoned each other almost daily, and even visited the others' family several times during the three months apart. Similar in a lot of ways, and yet so different that you had to wonder how they could get along so well. Both were brunettes, and where Michelle was Eurasian (her mother was Vietnamese); Barbara was a farm girl of German descent. Iowa farm land and Chicago, Illinois are almost two different worlds, if not planets. They had both dated during high school and even in college, but yet there wasn't any male that caught their interest beyond one or two dates. Somehow, both their mothers had realized their focus on each other during the summer visits. Perhaps, even more so than they knew themselves of their mutual affection toward each other. Michelle's mother seemed to be more ambivalent about their growing relationship, but Barbara's mother was having a fit. This did not fit into her plans for grandchildren and the continuation of the family farm. Michelle's mother had three other daughters that could and would give her the family tree she desired, so she was accepting of her oldest daughters' inclination. "WOW, it's so good to be back again. Away from my family and rooming with you again. I don't know how I put up with all their rules, and "do this", and " don't do that". They were making me nuts...even though I love them." Barbara exclaimed as she was unpacking her suitcases and boxes into their dorm room. Lounging on her bed, Michelle was smiling and almost laughing at Barbara's out burst about her family. "I sorta know what you mean, but as my Dad is gone most of the time on business, I only had my mother to deal with." "Your mother is so cool, and gracious, and elegant. I was blown away when I first met her. She is so chic and just...well, plain cool. You're so lucky, and she was so nice to me." Barbara stopped and looking Michelle over, had told her. Lying half up against the wall beside her bed, Michelle only had on a little camisole top and bikini panties. "Ha, I caught you looking. You know what we agreed on this summer whenever one of us caught the other looking at her nipples. So, come here and take your twisters." "No, I wasn't. I was just looking at you all relaxed, while I'm still having to unpack." Barbara quickly answered back. "Nope...I caught you fair and square. So, off with the top and take your twisters like a big girl." Michelle was deliriously happy that she got to be the first one to start their new game. Sighing, Barbara began to unbutton her blouse, and pulled it off her shoulders. "Uck, what is that??? I thought we had also agreed that to make the game and life more exciting, we weren't going to wear those damn bras anymore." Michelle swore as she sat up and scooted to the edge of her bed. "I know, and I forgot...but you know what shit my mother would have given me if she thought I was going without a bra." Barbara replied. "We both don't need them, as I'm only an A and you're a B, so throw the damn things away and you won't forget again." Michelle reminded Barbara as she was taking her bra off. "Okay, NOW is this good enough for you." Barbara said laughing as she walked over to Michelle, and thrust her chest out almost in Michelle's face. Reaching up, Michelle got a good, firm grip on both of Barbara's nipples, and gently started to twist them. As Barbara was beginning to breathe heavier, Michelle increased the pressure and twisting of her nipples. Moaning and almost crying by the time that Michelle finally let go of her nipples, Barbara was totally aroused and wet at the crotch of her shorts. "GOOD GIRL, you took that very well. So now, let me kiss them and make them feel better." Michelle murmured as she leaned forward to take the tender nipples in her mouth one at a time. "MMMMM, that's so good...Are you sure you weren't looking at my pussy also???" Michelle asked her with a sly smile on her face. "NO, I wasn't!!!" Barbara quickly replied. "But now that you mention it...YOU were looking at mine, and I caught you...SO THERE!!!" "Well, I had to as you have gotten your shorts all wet there, so it really doesn't count." Michelle answered back. "OH, YES, it does count. Besides, I shaved it this morning before I left...JUST like we agreed on...SO THERE!!!" "Okay, Okay, I give up. Take off your shorts and panties and I'll lick it until you say stop." Pretending that she was only going along, Michelle had said with a giant smile on her face. "HA...HA, got you this time." Barbara said, as she stripped off her shorts to show that she wasn't wearing panties. Then, lying out on her bed, smiled at Michelle and said. "Come and get it." "HOW SWEET...looks good enough to eat." Michelle whispered as she lowered her head and stuck out her tongue. And, so began the game of nipple twisters and licking, and lasted through a lifetime for happy couple. The Games We Play It wasn't so bad being a kid again... Even if it was in this hellhole. Charlene kicked off her sandals so she could keep pace with the other children. Although technically not a child herself anymore, she was starting to enjoy her new role as "one of the kids" as she scurried around in a heated game of tag with the others. The fact that there was no work to do today made it seem more like a holiday on this warm May afternoon. Her long blonde hair whipped through the breeze as she skipped around the pasture in pursuit of her playmates. Charlene, or "The Girl" as she was referred to by the elders here, had come to reside at this farm after a series of unfortunate events. She was bright and attractive, average height with strong, cheerleader legs and 36-C tits, but had always been considered a troubled girl by her parents and teachers. She had a strong tendency towards stubborn behavior and doing things for shock value. As far as she was concerned, they didn't know shit. They just couldn't appreciate her gifted young mind and sick sense of humor. Anyway, who the hell were her parents to make any judgments? They worked 200 miles away and commuted every day, meaning that The Girl only saw them on weekends, if she was lucky. Her mother was an emotional basket case and her father was an emotionally abusive alcoholic. What a fine pair to label her "Fucked Up". After a year and a half of emotional outbursts and what her shrink had noted to be "negative attention-seeking behavior", The Girl's mother, with her pathetically fragile nerves could take no more and sent her to this place, the farm of a family friend. If that's what you would call it. It wasn't much of a farm or much of a friend for that matter. The family had met the matriarch of this clan as she was going door to door trying to sell horses and cattle. They were just a bunch of inbred fucks who, for some reason or another, thought they were sitting on the secrets of the universe. However, Charlene's mother didn't seem to see that and thought it would be good for her to spend some time in the country. Great. Now they had their own little slave. Anyway, she was 18 as of last month, so she really didn't have to have anyone take care of her. It was really quite revolting the way they treated her like a child. These assholes, including the mom, grandmother, sister and brother, had managed to expand their vocabularies a little by reading old westerns and romance novels, which apparently shot their intellects right on up to ancient Greek philosophy or some shit. And then there was the endless parade of other relatives that were constantly in and out. Most of them always eyed her suspiciously and treated her like "the latest charity case". Whatever. The Girl had fought a great deal to reserve her opinions about anything since her stay here, quite simply because she was just outmanned. And besides, like she was told, her little snotty attitude just needed a little adjusting. Nothing a little hard work and primitive living couldn't fix. In breaking the human will, there usually comes a point of acceptance from those meant to be broken. The Girl was there, finally. The early mornings of milking cows, chopping wood, feeding horses, and bailing hay had indeed broken her down a notch. She was too tired most of the time to think about causing a scene about anything, or most of all, boys. Boys. The Devil's incarnates, as her mother had led her to believe. It didn't help that the elders forbid her to have any kind of social life besides weekly 4-H meetings since she came to this shit hole. What these dumb asses didn't know was it was 4-H that led to the loss of her virginity by one of the farm boys at a weekend camp three years ago. It was at best a disappointing experience, and five minutes of her young life that she would never get back. From that point on, The Girl preferred to masturbate than have another emotionally void session of hide the wienie with some douchebag that left her with nothing more than jizz running down the crack of her ass. What Charlene did notice with some mixture of satisfaction and apprehension was that these older men that frequented the farm were not bashful about displaying their sexual interests in her. Of course they were displayed in crude antics such as whistles and crotch grabbing, but hey, it was attention. From men. It was nice to have your femininity validated when these old bitches were constantly telling you how lazy, stupid, and inadequate you are. Even if most of these guys were dirty and repulsive. There was one man in particular that she was told to steer clear of. Of course this piqued her interest even more. Through research via gossip amongst the other teens, The Girl understood that this guy, or Irving, as he was called, had quite the reputation of sampling the wares of many a young girl throughout the years. It was reputed that his own nieces and daughters were among them. Her initial feeling was that he was a bag of shit and should burn in hell, but curiosity and her inner desire to constantly play with fire pushed her to do just that when he was around. These games became the only excitement The Girl had in her life. They were her sick little secrets, taunting the wolf with sheep's blood. You know, those things that women become masters of as young girls that can just as easily be passed off as innocent behavior: really getting into that grape lolli-pop, the leisurely stretch with the pronounced arch in your back that shows off a little belly ring, the tank tops that say some cute, cheeky little phrase like "Daddy's Little Girl" when you're not wearing a bra. The games came to a screeching halt, however, when an instance of "Irving's Going To Tickle the Piss Out of The Girl" became "Holy Shit, Irving Just Grabbed a Handful of The Girl's Snatch and Bit Her Titty." From that point on she avoided him like the Plague. From time to time though, the hormones would still kick in and remind her that she wasn't a child. Like today. Since The Girl had gotten up this morning there was that familiar awareness in the pit of her belly that made it difficult to concentrate on much of anything, especially a stupid game of tag with a bunch of little kids. Her mind began to wander more and more, and eventually The Girl set off to find a quiet place to relieve the throbbing growing between her legs. Her sorry excuse for a bedroom was out of the question. Aside from the fact that it was the size of a truck stop restroom and had holes in the walls, the house itself was bustling with the activities of the crones who lived there and their pointless banter and gossip about who was fucking who in town. The tack room in the barn! Perfect. There was no sign of anybody working in there today, and the tack room was just right for disappearing off the face of the earth for a spell. Without giving it any more thought, The Girl crept off in the direction of the barn as she wiped a thin film of sweat off her brow. The tack room was nice and cool as she opened the creaky wooden door and closed it behind her. Its stone walls and narrow window near the ceiling afforded just the right atmosphere for a moment away from the reality that was her pathetic life. She laid back against the riding blankets stacked on top of several bales of timothy hay and closed her deep blue eyes for a brief minute, as her mind started to drift into erotic thoughts about Mr. Langely, the American History teacher from the 9th grade. Mr. Langely was a popular star of The Girl's fantasies, with his piercing green eyes and athletic body. He was also the assistant football coach for the school, and The Girl would stay after school sometimes and watch him change from the calm and collected history teacher to the monstrous brute of a coach that he was reputed to be. She wondered how it would feel to have his weight on her body with both of his hands full of her ass cheeks. She pulled her flowered sundress up around her waist and placed her hand down the front of her panties, resting it there for a moment, feeling the heat radiating off of her hairless crotch(another private joke to herself was shaving her pussy, which the old bitches considered vulgar). A fleeting mental picture of the lust-crazed coach and The Girl slipped her middle finger into the now soaking ravine between her pussy lips, as she began slowly massaging her clit. She envisioned her imaginary jock lover ordering her to straddle his face as he tongue-fucked her, and she could feel the traces of her climax beginning to build. The Girl stopped long enough to lift her ass off of the blanket and remove her cotton panties, which had become an obstacle to her self-induced pleasure. She flung them to the floor below and spread her legs wide, frantically inserting her finger back in her waiting hole, closing her eyes tight and wishing it was Mr. Langely's. "Well, well, well....What the fuck have we got here?" The Girl's eyes flung open in terror. Terror of being exposed and at the recognition of that voice. It was Irving. His big menacing frame lurked in the doorway of the tackroom and his eyes reflected that of a coyote gazing upon a mortally wounded rabbit. Charlene flung her legs closed and sat bolt upright. Irving entered the tackroom, slowly, like a stalking cat. He smiled coldly as he paced back in forth in front of her, and placed his finger to his chin as though deep in thought. "You know, I knew you were a dirty little bitch, but this is almost too good to be true. Seems like you don't have enough to do, aside from being a cock tease and sneaking off to the barn to prime your little snatch for all those fucking punk assed boys you're always batting your eyelashes at." Irving moved his hand down and began stroking the now obvious bulge beneath his coveralls. "I got plenty for you to keep yourself busy with," as he grinned cruelly at her. Anger pushed its way through embarrassment as The Girl narrowed her eyes. "Fuck you, asshole. If you really think you can do whatever you want because you caught me fingering myself, you're a fucking moron." Irving's voice took on a much more serious tone. "Actually, I was thinking about the bag of dope you have shoved in between your mattresses and the little spray-painting excursion you went on a few weeks ago with that Jonathan faggot where you two little shits vandalized half the cars at the fairgrounds". Shit. Not only was it obvious that this son of a bitch had been going through her room, but how the fuck did he know about the spray paint? Then it occurred to her that Jonathan occasionally did a little work around Irving's house. That fucking traitor piece of shit Jonathan. She was willing to bet that these two fuckers often discussed her, the things they would like to do to her sweet young ass, maybe both of them at once... To make matters worse, that was his god damn grass in her room, and she had only agreed to keep it for him because his old man was threatening to kick his ass out if he ever saw it again. The Girl realized that if she got busted for vandalism and possession of marijuana that her life would be a totally unbearable living hell for quite some time. Irving recognized The Girl's silence as realization that she was his to do what he wished. He took a step towards her and placed his hands on her knees, still tightly locked together as he parted her strong thighs quickly and deliberately. She felt how hot and dry his strong hands felt locked on her knees as he leaned forward and braced himself with one hand on the wall behind her, and with the other hand reached down and ran a calloused finger along her swollen, wet slit. The Girl wanted to vomit as she watched him raise his finger to his mouth and lick her juices off of the offending digit. She glimpsed at him, and found herself almost in awe of his intimidation skills. Irving was nearly a middle-aged man but she was very aware of the fact that he was still formidably strong and could destroy her without much effort if he wanted to. For a fleeting moment, she was taken by the idea that he probably wasn't a bad looking guy ten years ago, with his black hair and eyes, then hated herself for thinking anything good about this fucker who was nothing more than a predator and an opportunist. It was during her contemplation that Irving decided to jam his finger all the way to his fist into her cunt. The sudden intrusion and burning sensation brought The Girl quickly back into reality. Irving sucked in his breath and looked down directly into her face as he manipulated his finger in a hooking motion. "That's an awfully snug fit for a little slut that's been giving the 4-H boys free rides at camp". She didn't know what Irving was getting at, but the truth was she had only been with one boy and his dick wasn't even as big as Irving's finger. As the burning in her exposed pussy eased, Irving ordered her to unbutton the top of her dress. The Girl kissed any last hope of talking her way out of this goodbye as her shaky fingers regretfully began undoing the buttons of her dress. She cursed herself silently for her decision to skip the bra that morning. It was her subtle way of pissing off the old bitches in the house, and now it was just one less thing to get in the way of Irving's assault on her young body. The coolness of the tackroom had its immediate effect on her nipples, which became hard as rocks as soon as they came in contact with the open air. The man then dropped to his knees and buried his head in her large breasts, biting and sucking them as his fingers continued their invasion of her pussy,sawing in and out of her. Charlene closed her eyes tightly and pretended not to hear the wet, sticky sounds her violated cunt was making. Irving stopped long enough to peel off his coveralls down to his knees and remove his undershirt. His erection, grotesquely huge compared to anything she had seen before, throbbed against the constraint of his white briefs. As she watched him remove the undergarment, any feelings she had of disgust and regret were quickly replaced with paralyzing fear. The Girl sized him up, and began to tremble in terror about what this man's body was about to do to hers. She became dreadfully aware that this was no man to play games with, as she listened to his breath deepen and become heavy with lust. To make matters worse, her own body was beginning to turn on her as she realized that her cunt was contracting and getting wetter still in the absence of his fingers and in the presence of his massive cock, just inches from her hole, jerking and leaking precum. It didn't seem to be that long, maybe about seven inches, but it must have been bigger around than her wrist. Veins encircled the monstrosity of a cock like ivy on a tree trunk. As her panic began to mount, Irving lurched forward and pulled her ass to the edge of the blanketed hay bales and leaned in to warn her. "If you take your medicine like a good little girl, I won't have to make a bloody mess out of your ass." She felt his engorged cock pushing against her traitorous opening, which drooled her natural lubrication and began contracting more violently. Feeling the area of her cunt's flesh that just the tip of his dick was covering, The Girl was positive that this was not going to happen without him splitting her in half. Irving rubbed his slimy precum all over her pussy lips, clit, and hole as he positioned himself for entry. He began to push forward, and she felt the same burning that his finger had made her feel, except ten times worse. Her fingers dug into the blanket as she braced herself for his entire length, but Irving was savoring the feeling of her young pussy wrapped around just the head of his cock, like an expensive delicacy. He pushed himself in slowly about halfway, while The Girl's cunt struggled to accommodate his invasion. Then, without warning, he mercilessly rammed the entire length of himself into the bottom of her recesses, and held himself there as she fought back her screams with everything she had in her soul. She lay there writhing in pain, inpaled apon Irving's cock as something else began to take hold of her. Through her intense pain, some unknown primal need in her began to call out. At first, she bucked her hips in an effort to unseat the man, but now she was moving out of something else. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" she thought to herself as her worst nightmare dawned on her. She wanted Irving to fuck her. She didn't just want him to fuck her, she wanted him to fuck her half to death. She didn't care how bad he hurt or mangled her, she just wanted to come and come and come all over his perverted cock. Irving momentarily snapped out of the awesome god-like feeling of power that this girl's tight, freshly broken cunt pulsing around his dick gave him. He sensed her mounting desire and looked at her writhing around on his meat. He looked directly at her face as he uttered, "Tell me what you want, bitch..." "I want to come" was all she could think of to say. Irving began to withdraw himself a little. He knew it would evoke a response from her. "No! No! Please....Just fuck me. I have to come. I need to..." Irving needed no more incentive as he continued his assault on her cunt. No more gentle entry, like before. This time he slammed himself in to the hilt and was pistoning in and out of her like a madman, and making every stroke count. With every thrust into her he knocked the breath out of her, as he watched her eyes roll back in her head and a mixture of her hot pussy juices and a little blood run down her ass. The Girl heard his animal-like grunts and the loud slapping of his pelvis and balls against her ass and pussy. She could feel his dick pounding into her guts and setting her on fire. The pain was intense, as was the pleasure she was receiving from getting her neglected cunt plundered by his fat cock. The tightening in her belly melted into waves of something so amazing it was unholy. Her cunt locked up and released, over and over again in waves of her orgasm. Instead of screaming, her breath just ceased for a moment, as her cum bathed Irving's dick. Irving kept up his gut pounding, now at an even faster pace. Sweat poured from his body as he braced his weight with his knees on the edge of the bales, so he could pile-drive her pussy. Her eyes were rolled up in her head, and her body moved like a rag doll with every slam of his pelvis, like she was completely possessed by demons of lust. Irving's mental state began to border on the insane as he ravished his new prey. The sensation of this young girl's pussy orgasming and squeezing his cock, and the sight of her blood was enough to satisfy the cruel urge he had decided to inflict upon her today. His balls tightened, as he crashed into her one final time and released what seemed like gallons of his own cum into her womb, which was milking him dry. The sensitivity of his cock was too much in her tight, viselike grip, and he withdrew himself completely from her, spilling a pool of their mixed fluids down her ass on to the blanket. As he stood upright, he could see what was moments ago a manicured, snug little twat was now raw, gaping and oozing with his cum. The Girl lay trancelike in disbelief of what had just happened as Irving collected himself and pulled up his briefs. As he zipped up his coveralls he uttered one last breathless comment to her. "You done fucking with these worthless little boys?" The Girl nodded without looking up, a mixture of shame and bewilderment on her face. "Good Girl. I'll be back to take what's mine...real soon." With that he spun on his heel and walked out, leaving her to wonder what in the hell would her life become next. The Games We Play The waiting was always the hardest part. As much as I enjoyed the games my husband and I played, the anticipation of the unknown was enough to make me scream. It was always something different; made me wonder where he found the time to plan the smallest detail -- my pleasure always the focus. He was very explicit in his instructions. I was to go home, shower, and follow the directions I would find on our bed. It was hard not to peek into the bedroom first -- get some idea of what was in store. But, I knew better. The last time curiosity had gotten the best of me, I had paid dearly for my disobedience. Punishment was always swift and, I had to admit, not entirely unenjoyable. I took my time in the shower, enjoying the feel of the soap against my skin. My nipples were tight, their pink hue darkened in excitement. I was not surprised by the slickness I found when I ran the soap across the folds of my pussy -- I'd been excited since he called to tell me it was game night. I rinsed the soap from my body, standing under the hot spray longer than necessary, absently running my hands down the length of my torso, lightly brushing my fingers across my swollen clit, unable to stop the moan of need which echoed in the glass-doored stall. After stepping from the shower and drying off, I walked naked to the bedroom -- knowing whatever I was expected to wear would be waiting for me there. At the foot of the bed I found it -- a simple note which said, "You'd better be ready when I get there", along with a small bag. Inside, I found a white cropped tank top, a pair of white panties, a blindfold and a pair of handcuffs. The tank was low cut and the bottom hem barely covered the undersides of my tits. The panties fit well -- tight across the ass, transparent enough to be able to make out every detail of my pussy. This outfit wasn't really that far from what I normally wore around the house, so why did this feel so different, so deliciously naughty? I picked the hand cuffs up from the bed. These were not the padded, light weight ones most people play with..these were the real deal (being married to an ex-cop has its perks). I slipped the cuffs through the footboard of the bed and attached the left one to my wrist, the unmistakable sound of a ratcheting cuff loud in the room. After positioning the blindfold, I snapped the other cuff closed on my right wrist -- whatever was going to happen, it was too late to back out now. I stretched out on the bed, enjoying the feel of the comforter against my skin, loving the restraint of the heavy cuffs attaching my wrists to the footboard. I didn't have long to wait -- the distinct sound of the door opening alerted me to his presence in the house. I knew the game, whatever it was to be, was about to begin. My heart rate sped up, my breathing becoming more shallow. My nipples tingled in anticipation, the warmth spreading through my pussy made evident by the dampness to be found on the crotch of my panties. When the bedroom door opened, I sensed his presence in front of me -- standing just beyond the foot of the bed. "On your knees", he ordered. I obeyed without hesitation. The handcuffs limited my mobility -- with my knees pulled up under me, my head still down, there was no place for my ass to go but up. This position left me totally vulnerable to his inspection -- I felt him move back from the bed -- no doubt enjoying the results of his careful planning. He stood facing me again -- the footboard the only thing between us. He gently caressed the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair. I was not prepared for the sudden change when he tightened his hold and yanked my head back, leaned down close to my ear and whispered, "I know what you like." He dropped my head back to the bed and I sensed him move across the room. When he was once again in front of me, I could feel the heat coming from his naked body -- he had dispensed with his clothes. I jumped at his first touch -- his hands came from nowhere to roughly cup my tits, kneading the flesh, finding the hardness of my nipples and pinching them until I whimpered in pain. He came around the side of the bed -- his hands trailing down my back, his touch strong and sure. When he reached my upturned ass, he gently caressed the cheeks, pulling the edges of my panties up until they nestled in the crevice between -- effectively laying my skin bare under his hands. This action also tightened them in the front; they were now riding snuggly against my pussy, the wetness spreading even further. He returned to the foot of the bed, his attention once again on my tits. I moaned, again and again riding that fine line between pleasure and pain. His large hands kneaded my flesh, twisting my nipples, sending waves of pleasure through my body, fueling a need which yearned to be fed. His hands found their way to my hair again. I was braced this time and expected the jerking when it came. He never spoke a word -- but it was quite evident what he expected of me. He brushed the side of my face with his stiff cock and my lips parted. With his hands still tangled in my hair, he guided me until my mouth found the swollen head. Gently, I ran my tongue around the rim, taking just the head in my mouth, pleased to hear his sigh of contentment. I advanced on the length of him, slowly taking more and more into my mouth. I was frustrated by my inability to move and see. I wanted to enjoy the look on his face as I sucked his cock and to cup the heaviness of his balls in my hands. But, I knew better than to ask; even begging would not change the course once it was laid. So I focused on the hardness in my mouth, his shaft stretching my lips tight as he guided my head, pulling me up and down the length of his cock. My pussy was aching with the need to be touched, filled. I moaned deep in my throat, withdrew my mouth from his cock -- prepared to beg him to touch me -- or release my hands so I could touch myself. As I backed away from the cock in my mouth, I heard my husband, "Did I say you could stop?" just before I felt his hand come down on my bared ass. As the direction of his voice registered, along with the sting of his slap, and the realization that it was not his cock in my mouth, I panicked. I pulled away from the man in front of me, twisting my head to loosen his grip on my hair. I pulled at the handcuffs, not caring about the marks they were leaving, struggling to get away, to think, to regain control. I felt the weight of someone joining me on the bed and my husband's voice, firm and knowing; I recognized his hands caressing my ass. "I've been over here, watching you suck his cock, your pussy getting wetter -- you know you want this; you've wanted this a long time. You've told me your fantasy of being taken by two men, being given no choice in how you are used. This is my gift to you." With that, he moved behind me, kneeling on the bed and continued to run his hands over me. He pulled my panties tighter, increasing the pressure on my throbbing clit. He ran his fingers across the wetness staining the material. "You've ruined your new panties," he growled as his hand came down hard on my ass. I shook my head, "No!" -- it wasn't my fault! The spanking continued until my ass cheeks burned -- but it only made me wetter. The tears running from under the blindfold were a mixture of pain and frustration. I felt him grip the waist band of my panties and knew what was coming -- the sound of material ripping was loud in the room. As my pussy was laid bare, I turned my head once again to the man in front of me, parting my lips, hungrily accepting his cock back into my mouth, because, God help me, yes....I did want this. I wanted this man's hardness fucking into my warm mouth, taking his pleasure from my body. My husband leaned over my back, teasing the wetness of my pussy with his fingers. I arched against him, needing to feel his hardness in me, silently begging him for the release only he could give me. He slid two fingers through the wet folds of my pussy, slipping them into the warm depths, pulling them out to tease my clit, running them around my puckered ass, asking, "Do you want me here?" I moaned around the cock in my mouth as his finger pushed past the tight ring of muscle, the burning fullness feeding the need of my empty pussy. The man standing in front of me was now fucking into my mouth in earnest; long strokes, jabbing the head of his cock deep into my throat, pulling my hair, bringing my head down onto him as he pushed up towards me. The salty taste of his pre-cum slid across my tongue, a tantalizing sample of what I knew was soon going to fill my mouth. With a loud groan and one final plunge, I felt his cock spasm, shooting his load, the warmth of his thick cum coating my throat as I swallowed again and again....milking him.... When it finally came, my husband's entrance was hard and deep. He buried his cock to the hilt in my wet pussy -- feeling my muscles tighten around him. He let his finger slide from my asshole as he began riding my pussy. I was begging him, "Fuck me harder, please just fuck me! I need you to fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," my chant in perfect timing with the strokes of his cock. His hands moved from my hips to grab my ass cheeks, spreading me wide open, watching his cock move in me, pushing into my wet pussy, deeper and harder with each stroke. I wasn't expecting the touch and tried to pull away when I felt a finger once again probing at my tight hole, but the hands on my ass kept me from moving away. I couldn't quite place the voice which told me to, "relax, let it happen" but, when the fingers of his other hand came in contact with my clit, I did just that and his finger slid into my ass...past the first knuckle, then the second, and began fucking in and out. He took up a rhythm opposite to that of the cock in my pussy...one moving in, one moving out...and a second finger joined the first. I could no longer form words, my body on fire, as I sobbed, moaning, my hips bucking back to take the cock in my pussy, the fingers in my ass burning, stretching...I had never felt this kind of all-consuming need...I was insane with it. As I hurtled closer to the edge, into the complete oblivion that was my orgasm, my husband tensed and I felt his cum pounding the inside of me, filling me with his familiar hotness and I screamed, crying over and over as I was finally allowed my release. As my body was emptied of cock and fingers, I collapsed onto the bed, trying to bring the world back into focus, and felt the blindfold sliding off as my husband asked, "So...you think we should take the cuffs off now?" and the other, now familiar voice, said, "I'm nowhere near through yet...are you?" The Games We Play As the couple pulled into the driveway they noticed automobile lights coming up behind them. Michael quickly pulled the car into its parking space, but before he could even bring the vehicle to a stop and turn the engine off, the dark sedan had pulled up behind them. They had only been to their secluded mountain getaway a short time. This was their big weekend. They had been cooped up all winter long, and were desperate to get out of their house and have a little fun. Arriving a little earlier in the day, the couple had only been inside the cabin long enough to bring their bags in, change, and set out for the nightclub, in the town a few miles down the road. Wondering who had come to visit them, Michael and Taylor remained seated in their vehicle. As he turned off the ignition they looked back through the car's frosty rear window. They could make out the shape of a large man as he stepped out of his car. Whoever he was, the man was leaving his motor running and the lights on. Taylor could see, out of the passenger side mirror, the man was walking to her side of the car. She could also see the dark figure carrying a flashlight. "Ah oh, I think it's the cops," she said as she rolled down the window. "Good evening," the man said as he stood slightly behind the passenger door. "I need to see your identification and proof of insurance." Taylor could feel the cool night air on her face as a slight breeze blew through the open window. She clutched at the long fur coat she was wearing, pulling it tight around her chest. The evening darkness and the shining beam of the flashlight obscured her view of the officer. She could tell he was a tall man, dressed in a suit and tie. He was obviously a detective or plain-clothes officer. "Hello," she replied. "Is there anything wrong sir?" Taylor squinted as the man shined the flashlight into the vehicle, first looking in the back seat, then to the front. "I noticed you weaving back down the road," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "May I see some identification?" he again asked. Having had a few drinks that evening, Taylor turned and stumbled through her purse, searching for her driver's license. Michael on the other hand was fully in control of his senses and quickly leaned across his wife and presented the officer his wallet. "Can you take the driver's license out of the wallet sir?" the man asked. Michael quickly responded, answering "Sorry. Of course." Still searching through her purse Taylor was startled when the officer opened the passenger side door and asked, "Ma'am, will you step out of the vehicle?" Stunned Taylor reached upwards, pulling the collar of the coat around her neckline. "Did we do something wrong officer?" she asked. The man shined his light to the car's center console, revealing the wasted remains of a marijuana joint lying in plain view. Though inebriated, the woman had gathered herself together enough to feel a sense of dread as she looked at the joint. Complying with the man's wishes she slowly stepped out of the car, again clutching the fur coat at the neckline and at the waist. Leaning down the officer looked through the passenger door at Michael. "Sir, I need you to step out of the car and walk around to the front," he ordered. Michael slowly opened the door and complied with the officer's command, walking to the front of his car and placing his hands on he hood. "How much have you had to drink tonight," the officer asked Taylor. "Just a few," she replied as she stumbled slightly to her right. The officer reached out, grabbing her right arm, and steadied her. "And I don't remember smoking anything," She said with a pouting, childlike voice. "It's just a little roach. Could you let us slide this time officer?" Showing no emotion the officer looked back inside the car and asked, "Is that your purse Ma'am?" Taylor paused for a second. She could now see the officer better. He was a well-built man probably just over six feet in height. She could tell that he was in shape with broad shoulders and dark wavy hair. "Yes," she replied in a seemingly frustrated tone. In a commanding voice the officer ordered, "I need to see inside ma'am. I want you two to put your hands on the hood of the car and not move." Taylor turned to the front of the car, putting one hand on the vehicle's hood, but continued to clutch her coat with the other. "I said both hands on the car," the officer barked. The woman took a deep breath and turned to the officer. "You see, I have a problem," she whispered. She began to blush as she attempted to explain to the officer that she was not wearing anything under her coat. The couple was an adventurous sort, always playing little games and daring each other. They had had several adventures, her tying him up and teasing him, him once giving her a list of tasks to perform at a swingers club, including having her gain ten male autographs on various parts of her body, then drawing one of the names and giving the winner head. They had always played little games like that and this night was no different. On this particular occasion he had dared her to wear only her buttonless fur coat during a portion of their night out. She had eagerly agreed, being a bit of an exhibitionist. The dares caused her heart to race. The thrill of being found out. Only now, she was about to be outed in the worse possible circumstance. The officer looked at Taylor for a minute, saying nothing. He then reached up, scratching the top of his head., then rubbing his chin. He looked at her and said, "I want you to open one side of the coat while you hold the other side closed. I need to make sure you're not carrying any weapons." Trembling, Taylor nodded. She could smell the officer's cologne as he moved towards her. Obeying the officer's order she held the right side of her coat close to her body, and slowly opened the other side. The officer could see the woman's bare side as she tried to pull the remaining half across the front of her body. He could tell she was telling the truth, her naked flesh revealed from her ankles to her neck. She was wearing neither a bra nor panties. "Now close that side, and open the other," he ordered. Again Taylor complied, opening her coat and exposing the other side of her firm form. "I need to look in the pockets ma'am," he told her. Taylor nodded as her teeth began to chatter. The embarrassment of the situation, coupled with the cold temperature was causing her to shake. She looked down as the officer reached forward, first checking the outer pockets of the coat, then the inside pocket. "What is this?" the officer asked as he pulled out a rolled up plastic sandwich baggy from the inside pocket. The officer unrolled the baggy and opened it, holding the bag up to his nose. "What is that?" Taylor sheepishly asked. Her tone grew louder as she declared, "That's not mine. I swear, I've never seen that." Her heart was racing. She looked at her husband, his head down with his arms spread out across the hood of the car. He looked back in surprise and shrugged his shoulders. She turned back to the officer, "Someone had to have put that in there. It's not mine ... really!" The officer looked at the woman as he tossed the baggy in the front seat of the couple's car. "This will get you about a year in jail. I'm gonna need you to turn around and put your hands behind your back." "Please," Taylor pleaded. "That's not mine." She thought to herself, "What is going on? How could this be happening? What would her friends think? Her family?" The officer took hold of the woman's arms and with a firm grip turned her against the hood of the car. Pulling her hands behind her, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs and snapped them around her wrists. Taylor could feel the lukewarm metal of the car's hood on her body. She could smell the residual fumes from their car's engine as it seeped into the evening air. Stunned Taylor felt like she was watching a movie. "This is not happening to me," she thought. "This must be a bad dream." Now beginning to sob she looked to her husband, but he only remained silent, staring at the hood of the car. "What could he do?" she thought. "He's probably going to jail too." The handcuffs firmly in place the officer pulled Taylor upright and turned her towards him. This time her humiliation was complete as the coat swung open, fully exposing her naked body. The officer seemed emotionless, as he eyed the woman up and down. Her perk breasts glistened as the blue light from a nearby street lamp faintly illuminated her bare flesh. She continued to try to hide her body from the officer, squirming, attempting to turn to the side, and pulling one leg up and across the other. The officer grabbed his flashlight and shined it up and down Taylor's body. Her smooth bronze shape exposed, he could see goose bumps forming across her skin. He paused and reached upwards, rubbing his chin. He could see her nipples, standing erect in the cool night air. Her brown eyes staring at the ground Taylor kept her head low, her long blond locks fell forward, partially hiding her face. The officer took a step back and shined the flashlight at the cabin. He turned to Michael and asked, "You guys renting this for the weekend?" Michael turned to the officer. "Yes sir. We rented it til Sunday." The officer turned his flashlight back to Taylor. Reaching up to her chin, he pulled her head upward and gazed into her watering eyes. "I think we may can work something out," he said softly. The once emotionless face now cracked a smile as he led the woman towards the cabin. Taylor felt like her heart was going to jump out of her chest. Her breathing heavy, she felt helpless. She didn't know what was about to happen, but she knew she was helpless to stop it. As the pair walked past the front of the couple's car the officer turned to Michael and ordered, "Sir, you need to come with us." Michael looked at the officer and gave a faint smile and a wink. The officer only responded with a slight nod as he led Taylor towards the cabin. As they walked away Michael paused and straightening his jacket. He smiled as he thought to himself, "This is the best game yet." The Games We Play Some nights when the demonic fiend that is insomnia rears its ugly head, Instead of watching T.V. or sitting mindlessly in front of the computer, I watch you sleep. It doesn't happen very often. Just like when we are awake, there are days I can't take my eyes off of you. So there I sit, in that hideous orange chair in the corner, the one you hate but will not let me throw away because I love it so much. In the summer months the widows are open letting in the breeze and the moon light. It's too hot to be covered but you can't sleep without a covering of some sort. As usual though by this time you have pushed it down so that it is just covering the curve of you hip. The soft glow of the moon caresses your shoulders and in the pale light I can almost make out the dusting of freckles that I have run my fingers over countless times. Those freckles are what almost ruin the sight, they make my fingers itch. Longing to touch you, to wake you up just to make love to you, I have to resist the urge. Instead, I pull one knee up to my chest, hugging it tight I light a cigarette and as the smoke dances in your moonlight the familiar burning of the first drag fills my chest I am almost able to still the beat of my own heart as the desire for you grows. Some nights I lose the battle with in and have to move closer. Slowly putting out the dark red cherry of my smoke, I quietly cross the room, and sit on the edge of the bed in the space behind your knees. It's almost too much for me, desire is pounding in my chest and the pit of my stomach is growing tight with raw need. You know that need, we both feel it. Never far from the surface, it takes but a look or slight brush and we are consumed with it, driving us into a frenzy of flesh and sweat. But for this very moment I just sit there absorbing everything I can, the breeze from the window cooling my own heated skin, the smell of lilies fresh cut from that morning, the way your nose crinkles because you are dreaming. Each and every detail, important and beautiful creating a glimpse of what my own personal heaven might be. By this time desire and love are warring in me. The rage of lust trying to push its way to the surface was being held down by my love for you. You who look so perfect sleeping, completely unaware that all I want to do is love you for the rest of the night and most of the morning. But the day was long for both of us, there is no reason we should both go without sleep, no matter what we could be doing instead. Resigning myself to go watch T.V., I get up slowly as to not wake you. Standing above you I bend over and brush the hair away from your temple, kissing you lightly. "Love you," I murmur, turning to go. As if by design you begin to stir. The thin sheet hiding your naked body from view slides further down, exposing your soft red curls as you roll on your back you look up at me with sleepy eyes. "Where are you going," you ask with a sleepy pout in your voice. In a low whisper I reply, "Can't sleep, go back to bed." Leaning over the bed I brush your auburn hair back once more, and with soft lips I kiss your forehead, then your nose then finally those lips still slightly bruised from our love making earlier. Lightly pressing my lips to yours in a kiss more of tenderness then passion, I feel your lips part slightly and with a soft moan rising from your throat you tangle you fingers in my hair pushing my head deeper in to the kiss. Without breaking the kiss I kneel in the bed next to you, with a moan echoing in my own throat. Squeezing my eyes tight for a minute to clear the haze that has begun to form in my brain, I pull away to look you in the eyes. "Baby," I whimper trying, still, to beat back the violent wave of fresh desire that just hit me like a tidal wave, " you need to sleep, WE need to sleep, but it just not happening for me right now." Not even hearing me you frame my face with your hands pulling me back in to your kiss, forcing me to either fall on top of you or lean on my hands on either side of your shoulders. The kiss that began as innocent and chaste as one could ask for has very quickly become anything but. Sliding one knee over your leg I press it in to your center spreading your legs apart. Unable to resist I push my knee higher up just to listen to you groan against my lips. Feeling your legs spread wider I bring the other leg inside yours. Through the thin cloth of my shorts I can feel the naked heat radiating from your wet core. Pulling away from you kiss once more I let out a small laugh, "Is my kitten hungry again," I tease grinding my hips into you. Throwing your head back, a full groan of want passes your lips, "Starving," you reply, untangling your legs from the sheet to wrap them around mine. With mischief mixing with desire, I lean on one arm. Sliding my finger down the side of your throat, I feel your pulse throbbing wildly. Continuing to trail my finger down your now feverish soft skin to the curve of your breast I gently slide the pad of my thumb over your already erect nipple. Leaning my forehead against yours as I begin to caress your nipple a little harder letting the rougher skin of my hands create the friction I know you crave. "What are you hungry for?" I ask, already knowing the answer, just wanting to hear you say it. Brushing your lips against mine again, you push against my hips and whisper "Just you, I want you, I need you inside of me now." Feeling something else rise in me, the tender heat that began watching you sleep shoved aside and replaced with something darker. The need to see you crazy, begging to be fucked hard, to do whatever I wanted so that you could find release. Pushing myself back up so that most of my weight is on the palms of my hands, I look down with a small smirk raising the edges of my lips, "Oh no, baby, you are going to have to give me a little more than that." Leaning back down I take your nipple in my mouth grazing it with my teeth, I hear you gasp as the pleasure and pain course through your body. Releasing you I speak almost directly into your breast, my voice a little harsh and demanding, "Tell me what you want." Looking up the line of your chest to watch your face as you try to form the words to answer me, I see you struggle to form coherent thought, tension wracking your entire body. Still unable to answer me, I slide down a little lower, my hand replacing where my knee was. Cupping you, I slide my middle finger along your slit, not entering, just swirling in the wet, slick, wispy curls that frame your center. Reaching down between us you try to push my hand deeper. Catching your wrist before your hand can get anywhere near its goal, I pin both of your hands above your head using my weight to keep them there. "Tsk, tsk," I tease, returning my hand to play in your curls. It's making you crazy, pushing against my hand you whimper, "Baby.... Please". Lowering my mouth once more to your breast I roll your taut hard nipple with my tongue. With a smile forming around your nipple, I look up again, this time my voice a little more commanding. "Tell me what you want!" To punctuate my demand I thrust my finger into your soaking wet slit grazing your swollen clit forcefully. As your hips lurch up in lust and surprise, I remove my finger and release your hands. Rolling to the side I can't resist the urge to taste the bit of nectar left on my finger. With the moons glow illuminating my face and yours I look you directly in the eye, pressing my finger against my tongue, I slide it down until the tip of my finger is at the tip of my tongue, when I close my lips around it to suckle every last bit like a greedy child would with candy. Taking my now moist finger I begin to circle you nipple, enjoying the feel of the crinkled rosy, silken, skin there. "Baby," I purr with a smirk on my face, "baby, I can do this all night and you know it. Just tell me what you want." Pushing my hand flat against your breast, you kneed it through my hand forcing the palm of my hand to grind against your nipple. I didn't think it possible, but I feel it tighten further. With little pants and small moans escaping from your lips, you finally look at me. "I want you to fuck me! Deep. Hard. Fast. And when I am dripping wet I want you eating me out!" Each and every word is forced out of you, your voice caught somewhere between a command and a plea. My hand still on your breast I lean up pressing my lips to your ear, "All you had to do was ask." With a nip to your earlobe, I begin to kiss my way down your neck. Soft kisses with just my lips and tongue caressing creamy skin, working so hard to contain the throbbing of your jugular. Turning your head I bring my lips back to yours. This time it's different, kissing you hard I probe the inside of your mouth with my tongue. With a growl rumbling in your throat you grab my shoulder digging your nails in, pushing me closer. Your tongue wars with mine until I bite down on your bottom lip. With a whimper and a groan you pull back for the briefest of moments to look me in the eye. The hunger I feel must be reflecting in my eyes because in this second I think you realize baby I'm going to give you exactly what you asked for. In that brief connection you realize I'm going to fuck you. Too long has it been since we have done anything other than soft kisses and halfhearted orgasms. It's one of the reasons I was awake tonight. I was worried you see, worried that you were falling out of love with me. Worried that the fire that once burned white hot and bright for us was starting to die down to embers for you. But in that look, I see the hunger I feel, echoed and maybe surpassing my own, if that is possible. In one fluid motion I roll the other way out of the bed. Standing on the side with my arms crossed I admire the view once more, your naked body flush with heat in the moonlight, your chest rising and falling in short quick pants. With no hint of humor or a smile, I motion rolling over with my finger, "Roll over," I command. You know where this is going so like the obedient lover you are, you roll over pushing your ass in the air. Resting on your elbows and knees you look over at me with a smile and wiggle you ass back and forth daring me do something about it. Getting back in bed I position myself between your knees. Rising up on my knees, my own pussy wet with need, I am just the right height to press against your open dripping cunt. With the texture of my cotton shorts just rough enough to provide a little friction, you push back against me still wiggling that delicious ass back and forth, eager for release, any release at this point. But this is my game--my rules--and whether or not you want to admit it you know it and what's more you like it. I place my hand on your hip to steady you and drop back to sit on my feet. "What's the rule baby," I ask massaging your ass cheek with my other hand. You are quiet and I'm not sure if you are playing along, or you have forgotten, so I ask once more "What is the rule?" this time I lean over your back and begin massaging your breast. In a forced whisper I hear "Good girls get fucked, bad girls get teased". With a feral smile, I lean back once more. Massaging your glorious ass again, letting my hands sink in to the firm well-formed flesh, gripping and releasing it over and over. Without warning my other hand rises up and I bring it down to the sharp sound of flesh striking flesh, leaving my hand there to rub away the hurt. Flinching from the pain you let out a low moan. Hearing it, I know I have you right where I want you. Still massaging your ass I reach my other hand between your legs to run one finger against your soaked lips. Without warning just to hear you scream, I thrust three fingers inside you. Holding them there as you try to push against me, begging me to give you what you want, my smile deepens. "Have you been a good girl?" At this point I can feel you start to lose it. Lust and need have begun to wear at any and all thought process. Judging from the way you are ignoring anything other than my fingers, I pull out all the way to the tip of my middle finger. "Have you been a good girl" I ask again thrusting hard to keep your attention. The only answer I get is the sharp in-take of breath as the pad of my finger finds your g-spot. "Baby, you know how this works. You can only have what you want when I say so, and all it takes to get what you want is to just answer my simple question." Flexing my fingers, the work-hardened skin strokes the ridges of that spot. "I'm starting to think that you don't want to answer because you haven't been a good girl at all, and you don't want me to know. Why don't you want me to know, I wonder?" Still caressing inside you, I continue to talk to myself, giving you a small clue as to what's next. "Maybe you were hoping to not be teased and punished for being such a bad little girl" Oh my god, at this point it has been so long since we have played like this I feel like I'm going to cum from my own lust. Just seeing you there unable to even beg for what you want is making me flooded with lust and making wearing even my simple shorts un-comfortable. Struggling to keep my voice even, I pull completely out of you and get out of bed. You look at me eyes pleading, but you know the rules. You know if you so much as try to touch yourself, to bring just a little ease it will take even longer because I have no issue what so ever slowing down even farther. Coming to stand over you, silhouetted in the moon light, I push down the soaked shorts, and I feel a little bit of my own juices run down my leg. Kicking them away, I stand fully erect and cross my arms. "On your back," I demand my voice as even and low as I can make it. Rolling over you rest your hands by your head letting me know you are waiting to be told what to do. I'm enjoying the sight you make. Hair tosseled and flowing wild, lip and eyes pleading for just one thing, and your entire body racked with desire and flush with arousal. "Touch yourself", even as the word pass my lips your hand shoots down to your pussy, fingers curling around your swollen clit at lightning speed. Just as quickly as I gave the first command, comes the second, "Stop," but you aren't listening. Your hand is working hard and fast. Leaning over, I place my hand over yours and squeeze, pulling your hand away. "I said stop" Placing your hand between your ample breasts, I look you in the eyes, "just for that we will be going even slower." Your only response is to whimper, but you nod once, pouting a little. Leaving your hand between your breasts I stand back up. "Now, slowly touch yourself." This time instead of going straight for your pussy you begin to massage your breasts pinching and pulling your nipple, little whimpers escaping your throat. With your head thrown back and eyes closed, I can see a small bead of sweat rolling down your neck, it glistening in the faint light. Enjoying the show, I let it go one for a moment more. "Stop," the word whisper soft, almost inaudible. I am expecting you to ignore it once again, but without the slightest hesitation your hand freezes in place. Looking up at me you wait for the command to start again. My sweet little kitten enjoys her games. My own smile growing, just as softly I whisper "go." This time you begin to circle you nipple with your fingers. Looking at me for direction, I can see the question forming it your eyes. "Lower" I purr, enjoying the little moan of relief I hear coming from you. Slowly, because you know that how I like it, your hand caresses the valley between your breasts. Your nails lightly raking the creamy skin as your hand begin to travel down your chest, grazing your abdomen. When you get to your pussy you cup yourself and look up at me for what to do next. The sight of you makes my mouth water. The urge to play is being forced out of my brain. The need to make you mine, to have your scent on my skin, on my lips is becoming harder and harder to resist. "Don't stop," I say in answer to your pause. Needing no other encouragement two of your fingers slip between your lips and begin to circle your clit. Your other hand begins to pinch and pull at your nipple adding to the picture. You are so worked by this point that I know it won't take long if I let you go. "Stop," my own voice becoming horse with my own needs. You just stop; you remove your hand and reach for me. "Baby," You whimper, "I want to be a good girl, I will try harder, just please, baby, please." The dam breaks. As much as I enjoy the games we play, I could never resist you. Practically diving back in to bed I land on top of you. I have no words, no more games, no more teasing, I want you. I kiss you deep one hand wound in your hair pushing you deeper in to the kiss. Your own hands begin to rake up my back; the bite and sting of your nails just adds fuel to the fire. Kissing your lips doesn't keep my attention for long and I began to kiss down the length of your body again. Stopping at each beautiful breast I take the nipple in my mouth, suckling deep, but even those wondrous orbs don't hold me for long. I have one thing and only one thing I want. I return to kissing lower. Little bites and licks create a trail of saliva down your body. I begin to kiss below your navel and I hear you gasp as I plant the first kiss in the wispy curls at your center. Swirling my tongue around I lap up some of the juices that have escaped your lips and wet your curls. I have yet to taste the inside of those lips, licking and lapping the edges again teasing you. I work closer and closer to where you want my tongue to go. With a harsh moan being dragged from your lips, you wind your fingers in to my hair, grabbing a fist full of my short locks, pushing my face deeper in to you soaking wet cunt. Smiling hard I give in to your lust filled demands. With my thumb and first finger I spread you wide, my senses being assaulted by the heady aroma that is you. I take a moment to let the scent envelope me, before I flatten my tongue and lap you from the base of your opening to the tip of your lips. When my tongue hit your clit your hips rise off the bed. Using the opportunity I hook my arms under your highs pinning you so that I can eat you out without having to chase your pussy around as you wiggle and thrust when I hit all the good spots. Alternating between short little licks that focus on your clit and long laving strokes that let my tongue slip inside of you, I am trying to avoid causing you to orgasm to early; I want to enjoy eating you for a little longer before you cum all over my face. I tease and tickle you pussy for a moment longer when I feel you other hand joining the first in my hair, holding tight. You are behind ready to cum. Moving from the teasing I suckle you clit between my lips. Holding it gently between my teeth I lick lit lightly, little flicks to coax your orgasm out. Unhooking my arm from under your thigh I slide my hand up your thigh, right in to your waiting slit letting two fingers slide in and out matching the rhythm of the licks and sucks on you clit. I can feel your internal muscle grabbing my fingers, squeezing so hard. You are so close, I know just what to do to send you over the edge. With my mouth still on your clit, I turn my hand curling my finger to find your g-spot. Letting the rough wetness of my fingers find the ridged spot inside you I begin to finger fuck you again; each stoke rubbing that spot. Without warning your back arches and your muscles grab hold of my fingers as my face is awash with cum. Pulling away to look up at you I don't stop stroking you, riding through the wave, working to build the next behind it. Head thrown back once again, you can no longer speak, just long hard moans as the orgasm rides your body. Releasing my hair you grab the bed sheet, your body beginning to wind back down. That wasn't the hardest orgasm you have ever had but it will do for a first one. As if with their own mind your hips begin to match the rhythm my fingers are still playing out inside you. As I thrust inside of you, you push down trying so hard to take me as deep as you can. Already I can feel the next orgasm starting. The first must have been hard then I thought with the second coming the close behind it. Still watching you face, I change the rhythm and add a finger to your already tight but slick pussy. The added girth takes you closer but just not there. With the thumb of the same hand I begin to rub your clit, rubbing that little button back and forth and side to side anything to help my baby cum. Just as the first was without warning this one took its time to get here and was not nearly as powerful as the first. Maybe you are more tired than we both thought.