Chapter 5 #2
Olivia hurriedly tucked the letter into a hidden compartment in her jewelry box. “I’ll be down directly, Martha. Help me change, please?”
As Martha assisted her into a dinner gown of deep-emerald silk, Olivia struggled to compose herself. She must betray nothing of Reynolds’ communication or her plans to meet him. The prospect of lying to Victor, even by omission, filled her with unease.
But this was merely managing a potential problem before it required his attention. If Reynolds truly was involved with French intelligence, as his letter implied, this went beyond personal scandal to matters of national security. She would handle it herself and prove her worth as Victor’s duchess.
“There you are,” Victor said as she entered the dining room. He rose from his seat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. “I decided my business at the club could wait.”
“I’m surprised,” Olivia replied, allowing a footman to seat her at Victor’s right hand. “I was told you intended to dine elsewhere this evening.”
“Plans change,” he said simply, studying her with unsettling intensity. “How were your calls received?”
Grateful for the neutral topic, Olivia recounted her visits while the first course was served. “Lady Pembrooke has accepted our invitation, and the dowager countess is ‘considering’ it.”
Victor nodded, satisfaction briefly softening his stern features. “Well done. The dowager will surely accept.”
“I doubt she’s fully persuaded of my redemption,” Olivia admitted, “but she seemed to hold you in high regard.”
“Not me, precisely,” Victor corrected. “The title. Ravenswood has always maintained appropriate connections with the older families.”
The remainder of dinner passed in polite conversation about household matters and the upcoming dinner party, but Olivia remained acutely aware of Victor watching her throughout. Her guilt caused her mind to run wild, imagining that he already knew that she hid something from him.
When dinner concluded, Victor stood and offered his arm. “Join me upstairs,” he said, his tone making it clear it was not a request.
Olivia placed her hand on his sleeve, her pulse quickening at the intent in his eyes. They ascended the staircase in silence with only the sounds of the soft rustle of her skirts and the measured tread of their footsteps on the carpeted stairs.
Once inside their bedchamber, Victor locked the door, the quiet click of the mechanism echoing in the sudden stillness. Before Olivia could speak, he was upon her, his hands grasping her waist and pulling her against his hard body.
“I’ve been wanting a taste of my little one all day,” he growled, before nibbling at her neck. His fingers made quick work of her gown’s fastenings, more hurried than he usually was. Buttons scattered across the floor as he tugged impatiently at her bodice.
Olivia gasped at this display of raw need. “You’re in quite the hurry,” she murmured, a hint of challenge in her voice.
His eyes darkened at her observation. “Even I have limits to my patience, Duchess.” He yanked her gown down to her waist, exposing her chemise. “And you’ve tested them all evening with every shift in your chair, every little sigh, every time you bit into your lower lip that belongs around my cock.”
In moments, he had stripped her bare, her clothes forming a silken pool at her feet. Olivia trembled, not from cold but from the intensity of his gaze, the barely leashed hunger she witnessed there. This was different from his previous possession. More urgent and primal.
Victor moved to a carved mahogany chest, producing a small wooden case inlaid with mother-of-pearl. He placed it on the bedside table before turning his attention back to her naked form.
“On the bed,” he ordered, his voice rough with desire. “Now.”
Olivia complied, her body responding eagerly to Victor’s commands. She had grown accustomed to his dominance, even craving it. In his presence, under his control, she felt both protected and free. It was a paradox that somehow made perfect sense.
Victor remained fully clothed as he sat beside her, opening the wooden case. Inside, nestled on dark velvet, lay a string of graduated ivory spheres connected by a silk cord.
“These are a special kind of beads,” he explained, lifting the item by the string. “An Eastern device for a woman’s pleasure and preparation. Tomorrow, you will wear them inside you throughout the day.”
Olivia frowned in confusion. “Inside . . .?”
“Not where you think,” Victor clarified, his expression darkening with intent. “These will prepare your tight arse for my possession tomorrow night. We’ve been working up to this, and it’s almost time. With these, each movement and step you take will ready you for when I fuck you there.”
Understanding dawned, bringing with it both apprehension and unwelcome arousal. “Why are you showing me these now if I won’t use them until tomorrow?”
“So you can anticipate what I’m going to do to you.” His fingers traced a path up her inner thigh. “You can think about how you are going to stretch and prepare for me. You’re wet just thinking about it, aren’t you, little one?”
She gave him a small nod, and he narrowed his eyes at her, not satisfied with her response.
“Yes, Daddy.”
Victor moved suddenly, positioning himself between her thighs and pushing them apart with commanding hands. Before she could react, he lowered his head between her legs.
“What are you doing?” Olivia gasped, instinctively trying to close her thighs.
“I told you. I required a taste of my little one.” Victor looked up at her, surprise flickering across his features. “You’ve never experienced this?”
When she shook her head, a triumphant smile curved his lips. “I might not have made you wait so long for such pleasures if I had realized your artist was such a selfish lover. All the better. This will be mine alone.”
Before she could respond, his mouth claimed her most sensitive flesh. Olivia cried out, her back arching off the bed. She pushed aside the nagging guilt she felt at the mention of Reynolds and what she hadn’t told Victor.
His hands gripped her thighs as his tongue explored her as she’d never experienced before, finding places she hadn’t known could bring such pleasure.
“Daddy,” she gasped, the intimate title falling from her lips naturally as her fingers tangled in his dark hair.
She felt him groan against her clit, his grip tightening on her thighs at her use of the name.
“That’s it, little one,” he murmured into her opening. “I’ll be the only man who ever tastes you this way. I’ll be the one who teaches you every pleasure your body can experience.”
Olivia watched in fascination as he lost himself in pleasuring her, the sight of his aristocratic head between her thighs shockingly erotic. This was a side of Victor she hadn’t witnessed before. He wasn’t just commanding, but hungry, almost desperate in his need to claim this aspect of her.
Just as she felt herself approaching the precipice of release, Victor pulled away, leaving her gasping and trembling on the edge of fulfillment.
His breathing was ragged, his usual immaculate appearance disordered with his hair mussed from her fingers, cravat askew, eyes dark with barely contained desire.
“Not yet,” he said, visibly struggling to recover his control. “You will not find completion until you earn it.”
He was going to drive her mad. Olivia whimpered in frustration. “Please, Daddy.”
“Please what?” he prompted, one finger lazily circling her wet flesh without providing the pressure she craved.
“Please allow me release,” she begged, her pride forgotten in the face of overwhelming need.
Victor shook his head slowly. “Not until you agree to what it is that I require.”
“Anything,” she whispered, desperate for his tongue to continue.
“You will crawl to me with the beads nestled deep in your arse, and you will beg me to fuck you there. Promise me, and only then will I permit you completion.”
Her eyes widened at the demand. “I . . . I . . .”
“The correct response is, ‘yes, Daddy,’” he interrupted, his expression implacable. “You will come to me on your knees, and you will plead for me to claim your arse. Say it.”
She swallowed hard, arousal warring with trepidation. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl,” he praised, the two simple words sending an unexpected flood of warmth through her. “Now turn over. Onto your hands and knees.”
Olivia obeyed, positioning herself as commanded, her backside raised vulnerably in the air. She felt the mattress dip as Victor rose, heard the rustle of clothing as he unfastened his breeches. Then his hands were on her hips, his hardness pressing against her entrance from behind.
“Since you have been so good for me and you tasted sweeter than honey, I just might allow you to come.”
With one powerful thrust, he entered her, filling her completely. Olivia gasped at the intensity of the penetration, her fingers clutching at the sheets as Victor established a demanding rhythm.
One of his hands slid beneath her, finding the sensitive bud at her core and massaging it while he continued to thrust into her from behind.
“Can you feel how deep I am?” he growled. “Tomorrow, I’m not holding back. I’ll fuck your arse just as I fill your sweet cunt.”
The combination of his words, his skilled fingers, and the relentless depth of his possession pushed Olivia to the edge. She began to clench around him involuntarily as pleasure built to an unbearable peak.
“Daddy, please—I’m going to—”
“Do not,” he commanded sharply, removing his hand from between her legs. “You will be allowed to come when I say so and not a second before.”
Olivia whimpered, fighting against her body’s desperate need. “Please, Daddy, let me finish.”
His rhythm faltered for a moment, a groan escaping his lips, and then he pounded into her so hard and fast that her chest fell to the bed. It made the pleasure more torturous at the new angle.
“No,” he refused, his pace increasing as his own control frayed. “My good girl will learn that pleasure comes when I decide, not before.”
He gripped her hips with both hands now, driving into her with increasing urgency. “I’m going to fill you and you will not come. Do you understand me?”
His release came with a strangled groan, his fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to leave marks as he spilled himself deep inside her. Olivia remained on her chest and knees, trembling with denied pleasure, tears of frustration stinging her eyes.
She felt Victor withdraw, expecting him to collapse beside her. Instead, his hands spread her thighs wider, and before she knew what was happening, she felt his fingers sliding into her opening, slick with his release.
“I love the feel of my seed inside your cunt,” he murmured, his voice dark with possession. “The way it marks you as mine.”
Olivia gasped as his fingers curled upward, finding a spot inside her that sent sparks of renewed pleasure through her body. Then, to her shock, she felt his mouth on her again. His tongue found her clit as he knelt behind her while his fingers continued their relentless exploration.
“Victor,” she sobbed, overwhelmed by the dual sensation.
He lifted his head just long enough to issue one final command. “Beg me. Address me properly and convince me you deserve release.”
“Please, Daddy,” she cried, past all pride now. “Please let me come. I’ll be your good girl. I’ll wear your beads tomorrow, crawl to you, submit in any way you demand. I need it, I need you. Fuck. Please!”
His tongue flicked against her once more. “Come for Daddy now,” he teased, his fingers moving inside of her as he worked his tongue again.
Olivia shattered, her release crashing over her with staggering intensity.
She cried out “Daddy” over and over as her body convulsed around his invading fingers, wave after wave of pleasure washing through her until her body couldn’t stand it any longer and she collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent.
Afterward, her husband pulled her against him and massaged her back as they laid together in their bed.
His care and tenderness were in contrast to the man who controlled her every movement, and the guilt returned.
What would Victor do if he found out that she’d kept the letter from him?
And how could she possibly meet Reynolds while her arse was being stretched?
The implications of Reynolds’ letter went beyond personal scandal or blackmail. The references to French patrons interested in Victor’s military connections suggested something far more sinister. Matters that could destroy not just reputations, but lives.
“Sleep,” Victor whispered, his breath stirring her hair. “Tomorrow will challenge your limits, little one. And my girl needs her rest.”
Olivia shut her eyes, guilt and yearning battling within her. Tomorrow would test her, indeed. In ways Victor hadn’t anticipated.
She would confront Reynolds, eliminate his threat permanently, and safeguard her newfound position. If he truly had connections to French intelligence, she might even be able to convince him that his activities had been discovered, that continued pursuit of her would only hasten his own downfall.
The secret could protect both herself and her husband, she reasoned. It would be best that she handled matters and then they could continue as they had.
Tomorrow she would stand firm against those who threatened her new life, using the very strength her unexpected Daddy had helped her discover within herself.