Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
The soft sting of the slap began to fade when Ariadne realized she did not mind it—at all. Cedric’s callused hand rubbed softly on her tender flesh, and she appreciated the almost apologetic motion.
His body bent over her, “Do you want more, Ariadne?”
The word left her mouth. “Yes.”
The spanking started moderately and increased in tempo; he concentrated the blows on the spot where her plump bottom met her thigh, each strike sending a spark straight to the pool of warmth in her loins. All she felt was heat and a desperate longing. She needed more.
God, she needed something. Something only her Cedric could give her.
As if he had sensed her unspoken desires, her fingers trailed down between her cheeks and touched her wet core. She moaned again, too tired to hold anything in.
When he rubbed her bold little pearl, she gasped his name at the spike of pleasure. He swallowed the breathless cries of her climax as his fingers delved deeper into her lushness.
“All right, love?”
“Yes… yes…” She moaned with desire.
He added another finger and stirred in a motion that would gently remove the thin barrier inside. He thrust firmly, simulating her channel, and she startled, gripping down with lush insistence.
Pulling out, he turned her over, and Ariadne shifted her legs to accommodate his boy. His hands pulled her knees up and set her feet flat on the bedding.
“Are you in pain?” he asked, “Because if you are—”
“Make love to me,” she whispered.
He leaned in to give her a kiss that left her panting. “There is a preventative measure that will stop you from increasing. It’s called a French Letter, Ariadne, and would you like me to use it?”
She held his upper arms, “No.”
He slid his free hand under her knees and cocked them over the notches of his hips as he carefully fed her the first few inches of him. His glittering eyes latched on hers and lost the capacity for speech, the power of his incursion driving the air from her lungs.
His eyes glimmered in the half-light, his voice gravelly with pleasure. A flush saturated his cheekbones, spilling toward his jaw, which was already shadowed with his night beard. The tendons on his neck stood out as he moved, thrusting into her center.
With the completeness of their joining, he groaned, “Christ, that’s good. The best bloody feeling in the world.”
The fullness inside her had her senses whirling, and she shook a moment to orient herself. She felt Cedric’s muscles vibrate with the need to keep still, and she appreciated it from him; when she finally peeled his eyes open, she whispered, “Move.”
The gentle rhythm of his thrust at first, the slow rock in and out sparked a fire, but as they grew harder and harder, the spark grew into an inferno. She held on as best as she could as he pounded into her, grinding against her mound, making her see stars.
Her limbs were wrapped tight around him as she clutched at his hard, flexing shoulders; it was real, raw, carnal. He continued to drive into her, his burning hold on her body and his harsh gaze were both anchored in the building maelstrom.
She absorbed the potent pummeling of his hips, the focused momentum of his thrusts, wanting to give him the same rapture he’d given her. Suddenly, he hiked her knees up to his shoulder, nearly bowing her in two as he chased the same bliss searing up her spine.
“You’re so bloody beautiful,” he growled.
Molten pleasure rushed through her. She was so close… almost there… He reached between their heaving bodies, strumming her pearl as his cock drilled into her. Something shattered inside her. She moaned his name as torrents of pleasure set her free, carrying her over the edge.
“God yes,” he groaned. “You feel sublime.”
He leaned over and captured a nipple between his lips before his snipe snapped back, roaring as he slammed into her again and again and again.
Finally, he stilled, and gently dropping her legs, he held himself up by an elbow as he kissed her softly and sweetly.
“Well, Ariadne?” he asked huskily. “Are you happy you waited?”
“No.” She dimpled at him.
He gently pulled away from her and rested to the left of her. “Why not?”
“Because if this is what is feels like, I should have pushed harder.”
Her reward was his roaring laughter filling the room.
Ariadne burrowed into the sheets, resisting the initial tugs of wakefulness that were growing stronger by the moment. She wanted to stay in her delectable dream forever, one where she was being held in the loving arms a man who loved her.
Her body had been warm and relaxed as if she’d engaged in vigorous exercise; she wanted dream Cedric not to stop kissing her, or murmur those sweet words in her ear as he moved within her.
She pressed her nose into the sheets—only to find those sheets were skin and hair, all warm skin and springy scratchy hair. Her eyes popped open in realization.
She blinked once in the pale morning light, but her vision did not change. A low fire burned in the grate. Her line of sight was partially obscured by a hairy chest.
The events of last night returned to her in a wheel of memories and happiness flushed right through her from her chest to her toes that she did not dare to move.
“Good morning.” Cedric’s sleep-roughened voice in her ear. His hair was tousled, and the pillow line creases on his face that only deepened when he smiled. “How was your rest?”
Color rose in her cheeks. “Were you watching me sleep?”
“You look like an angel when you sleep,” he murmured. He was lying on the side of his unblemished face, but she did not care that his devilish face was staring at her as she saw beyond the scars.
Her eyes were warm. “It sounds like you are going to say those sonnets I once dared you to sing me.”
He snorted and turned on his back. Rubbing his face, Cedric gently sat up with the sheets pooling at his waist. He was silent for such a long time, she got concerned and sat up too, taking the sheets with her.
“Are you all right—” she paused. “Why do you not look happy?”
His head snapped to her, his brows lifted. “What? God no. That could not be any further from the truth. It's— last night was not overwhelming for you alone.
Ariadne’s heart leapt painfully, fiercely, at his gaze. She could not look away, could not resist the vulnerability that shone in his gaze. It startled her, the contradiction of it.
Cedric was a force of nature; a man known for his command, his resolute will, his formidable reputation, and yet before her, he seemed laid bare, as though she alone might see the hidden truth of him.
“You don’t know how much of a box you’ve put yourself in when you’ve convinced yourself that you are better off alone.” He said hollowly.
Her face fell. “Because of the fire?”
“No,” he gave her a look. “Because of the betrayal I suffered by a woman I’d believed myself in love with. Now, I realize I did not know what love was.”
She frowned. “You’ve never been with someone….in all that time?”
“No,” this time, he looked confused. “No, why?”
“Because I—” she shook her head and slipped out of the bed, grabbing her discarded wrapper from the floor and quickly donning it. “—just— just wait here.”
He slid a leg out from under the covers, confusion tight on his face, “Ariadne, what are you talking about?”
“Just give me a moment, please.” She said while leaving the room, she dipped into her room to don a loose frock before heading to her drawing room.
In her haste to look for the cards, she did not care if a few books and letters fell to the floor.
When she finally unearthed the cards from the drawer, the stale scent of that putrid perfume surged into her nose.
Grimly, she fished the new note out from the stacks and took all three back to Cedric’s room.
He was dressed in a loose pair of trousers and was belting a robe when she walked in. “What was that about?”
“These,” she handed him the cards. Taking a seat, she wrapped her arms around her middle. “I received those cards and I—I didn’t know what to do with them. They felt… too real.”
Cedric’s brows creased as he read through them. “Ariadne…” he waved the open letters. “I do not know who sent these.”
She hesitated. “You’ve never had a mistress?”
“No.”
“Not even someone secretly in love with you?” She asked.
He went down on one knee before her and took one of her hands in a firm grip. After a moment, she wrapped her fingers around his. “I swear to you, I do not know this woman. There was one time, only one, when I felt desperate enough to go somewhere for…company.”
It took Ariadne a hair longer than she should have to grasp his meaning, and when she did, a twisted pit formed in her stomach. “I—” her eyes dropped to the floor, the very same place her heart was. “I see.”
“I went back alone and untouched,” he admitted. “The woman was so repulsed by me that I screamed in horror. I never tried again since.”
“How long ago was that?” She asked.
“Five to six years ago, give or take,” he said. “And there is no chance this person—” he waved the letters. “—that his person is that courtesan. Last I heard, she is married and is a madam now.”
Taking the last unopened letter,
Dear Cedric,
Rumor has it that you are married now to a lady of little renown…. and little consequence. We both know true gentlemen do not slake their real desires in the well-appointed bedchambers of their wives, no. You come to me, a woman who can embrace the baser side of you, the one you let no one see.
Gentle-bred ladies are scared of their shadow, much less the anatomy of a satyr as yourself. They cower in the darkened chamber, praying that the deed is done so they can say they have done their marital role. They never enjoy the coupling, not like I do.
You will always return to me.
Tell your wife that though you are bound to her by law and custom, you seek me by choice. How you find in my company what your dutiful wife cannot provide—laughter, wit, and the thrill of a heart unburdened by propriety.
I keep your gaze, your touch, and I soothe your restless spirit. I shall hold fast to you, and in the candlelit hours when your household sleeps, madam, it is my laughter that fills his ear.
He comes to me willingly, eagerly, as one starved of delight.
I offer him what you cannot: the thrill of admiration, the warmth of a smile unclouded by duty, the embrace of a woman who knows her power.
I know the splatter of freckles on his shoulder, the welts on his thigh, the ache in his skin when his burns flare. I comfort him, only me.
You, poor creature, you only offer him the dull weight of obligation.
Always yours, Cedric.
H.
By the end, Ariadne looked as if someone had struck her. Cedric crumpled the letter in a cruel fist. “It's fiction, Ariadne. Nothing that was said here is real, and please do not let it ever enter your mind that it is.”
“They know about you,” she whispered. “The intimate things only I should know.”
His gaze was fierce. “I do not know who is writing this fantasy, but I will find them and expose them. Look at me—”
She kept her eyes down. Cursing softly, he grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her head up. “Believe me when I say, I will prove to you this is all lies.”
Her chest heaved, “You swear.”
“On my life.” He promised.