Chapter Five #2
“You needn’t do this.” Yet she squirmed against him to grind upon his knee.
“In another lifetime, perhaps you might be correct, but I am not a good or decent man.” The fact she wanted to feel physical pleasure made the act slightly less heinous.
“I’m afraid I left being a gentleman behind in my past. Feel free to call me a rogue, a bastard, a demon, perhaps even a devil if you’d like, for once I’m done with you, I rather doubt you’ll ever think me capable of being good. ”
More’s the pity, that. Taking her against her will wouldn’t bring him close to the redemption he wanted.
Not wanting to lose momentum or her attention, Dante shuttled her over the floor to the bed where he pushed her torso onto the end, bent at the waist. God, but she was of the perfect height, and seeing the smooth cheeks of her arse elevated and enhanced his need.
“Are you at least curious for what happens between men and women, Anne?” Raw desire graveled his voice as he slipped a hand over one bared cheek. “Especially since you attempted to seduce me two days ago?”
“I…” She panted as he continued to fondle a breast with his other hand. “I suppose, but that was to catch you off guard.”
“So you could stab me?”
“Yes.” Then the cheeky woman elbowed him in the gut, smirking when he grunted. “I meant what I said. I’d rather die than let you touch me.”
God, her tart mouth was as maddening as her curves. “Your protests aren’t going to halt this.”
“Why?” Anne glanced at him from over her shoulder while trying to squirm out of his hold while he wrenched the fabric of his front falls until all the buttons slipped from their holes.
“Because this is who I am.” When his hardened shaft popped free of the fabric, he was only granted temporary relief from the pressure. “There is no point in aspiring to be anyone else. It simply isn’t possible.”
“Forcing unwanted physical attention on me definitely won’t help; no one is beyond redemption.”
“Even me?” Damn but he wanted to believe her.
“That remains to be seen, but isn’t this the season of miracles?”
Why the devil was there sarcasm in that statement?
How… interesting, but she’d provoked him to the point of insanity.
“Unwanted, hmm? We’ll see if that’s true.
” Then, nearly out of his mind, he gripped her hips with enough force to no doubt leave bruises and forced her thighs apart, aligning the head of his member with her opening. “Prepare yourself, Mrs. Cunningham.”
“But I haven’t—”
“I don’t care,” he growled in interruption.
The need pulsing through his member eclipsed anything else, even her warning that she’d never been with a man.
Yes, he should have fondled her bits so that she was sufficiently aroused, to help him glide into her passage, but he couldn’t wait for that, had no patience for either his thoughts or her preference.
God, I’m a blackheart.
With a powerful thrust of his hips, he penetrated her body and broke through the slight resistance of her innocence.
A whimpering cry came from her, for she’d no doubt experienced a twinge of pain, and he withdrew.
“This is proof that you belong to me,” he managed to whisper as he spied a trace of blood on his member.
“My wife.” Not that it mattered. Forced marriage didn’t mean anything, and they certainly would never find common ground.
He wasn’t interested in falling in love, regardless of what time of year it was.
“Stop!”
“I can’t.” Once more he stroked into her body, and the act of watching himself slide in and out of her snug, hot passage emboldened him for taking more from her than she was willing to give.
Devilish duke indeed, and lowest form of brigand.
“Dante, please…” Sounds of either denial or encouragement came from her, but it was difficult to tell with her face pressed into the coverlet and mattress tick.
There was no going back; he’d taken her innocence.
Might as well finish the act. Another shove into her body had him groaning with the pleasure of such contact.
Then she was crying and still he pummeled into her because he couldn’t stop, needed that outlet, craved something to help as he fought with his demons while he sought to hide from them in her.
Which is basically what he’d done with every woman he’d been with.
Why am I like this?
Despite the fact he was nearly gone and the urgency surging through his prick had grown overwhelming, he wanted to grant her at least something, for a twinge of guilt hitched beneath his ribcage.
How odd.
“It’s almost over,” he whispered as he wrapped an arm about her hips, and when his fingers found the curls shrouding her sex—the curls damp with arousal despite the circumstances—he encouraged the button at her center out of hiding while he ceased his movements despite being buried deep inside her.
“This is what I should have done to you in that damned library.”
Fucking interruptions.
“You have certainly earned the title of disreputable.” Anger threaded through her emotionally laden voice. She lifted her head, tried to squirm away, but Dante wouldn’t let her go.
“We all can’t be paragons.” Not that he ever had been that in his life. He doubled his efforts to bring her over that edge. “I suppose I’m more comfortable being a villain.”
“Or a devil?” she asked, her voice muffled by the bedding.
“Yes.” Tormenting her button with varying degrees of friction, he laughed when a slight scream sounded wrenched from her throat. Her body stiffened seconds before she apparently went flying from his touch.
In the process of riding out the wave, Anne shoved her body backward against his, which sent Dante ever deeper, embedded him so tightly into her passage that he groaned, and tried to stave off the inevitable.
“Bloody hell. I won’t last.” There was nothing else to do but grab hold of her hips, and he thrust with more force and intent.
What sort of man was he to claim her body with barely two words of consent between them, taking everything she would give and all she wouldn’t until they heaved against each other, bodies straining, sweat dampening his back so that the fine lawn of his shirt lay plastered to him.
“You are a monster,” she replied, her words muffled by the bedding.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Odd, but hearing those words uttered aloud made him despise what he’d become over the years. Dante tangled a hand into her hair, forced her head up so he could lean over her back and speak into her ear. “This is not the only time I will enjoy your body.”
She gasped. “I hate you.” The whisper seemed overly loud in the room.
“Good, for I hate myself. We’ll be miserable together.
” Renewing his grip on her hips, he kept her trapped between him and the edge of the bed, and he pistoned his hips, ruthlessly thrusting into her body with hard, deep, frantic strokes that had them both moaning and sighing, yet there were tears wetting her cheeks.
Urgency shot through his shaft. Tingling went into his stones and they drew close to his body. He lost himself, then, and with one final push, he was hurled over that edge. The vortex caught him up in its storm, and as he ground himself into her body, his shaft emptied. “Fuck!”
Seconds later, Anne joined him in that storm where all sound and light were absent, and her surprised scream was shocking in the silence. “You raped me.” The rest of her gasped words were lost as she buried her face in the bedclothes.
“No, I took what was mine by rights.” Despite the circumstances, Dante was pleased that he was her first, and oddly enough, he couldn’t wait to show her, teach her more about the carnal world.
Would she even let him touch her a second time?
He’d been the ultimate prick today, but he wouldn’t take her against her will again.
Then she managed to surprise him again by darting to an occasional table where a vase of hothouse flowers rested.
Taking it up, she hurled it at him with an unintelligible shout.
“Get out!” The delicate porcelain vase with painted gray birds on it clipped his head before crashing into the door.
“This is my space. Mine, and you are not wanted here.”
“Fair enough.” Hating himself, and hardening his heart against her whimpering cries as she tugged the counterpane from the bed and wrapped it around herself, he quickly put his clothing back to rights.
A trickle of blood at his left temple let him know she’d found her mark. “Dinner is soon. We’ll talk then.”
Then he left the room as he tamped on the urge to cast up his accounts, for what he’d just done had been beyond the pale.