Chapter Six #2
His grin was quite wicked, and set her pulse to racing. “I never said I’d leave off doing unspeakable things to you merely because we’ve temporarily declared a truce.”
Oh, he is truly a bastard!
“Fine.” Tentatively, haltingly, Anne wrapped a hand around his shaft that was both like satin and steel combined. Though she had no idea what she was doing, she moved her curled fingers along his length, but he was having none of it.
“Take me into your mouth. As I said, you need to employ it in other ways.” He once more put his tip to her lips.
She moved a hand to his buttock and followed instructions. At first, the intrusion of such an appendage was abhorrent, and when his tip hit the back of her throat, she gagged at the foreign sensations. The scent of the soup spilled all over the front of his breeches only added to the odd situation.
“Easy. Don’t force it. Only do what feels natural.
” Oddly, the words were encouraging and in a softer tone than he’d previously spoken to her.
With his hands on either side of her head and his fingers buried into her hair, Broderick guided her head while moving his hips to thrust into her mouth. “That’s it.”
Eventually, Anne found a rhythm they both seemed to enjoy, and when she used her hands to alternately stroke and squeeze his length or fondle his stones as she worked him over with her lips and tongue, and a shuddering reaction went over him, she finally understood what it was like to hold power over a man.
It fed the awareness she already had for him, and she marveled that her nipples were sensitive, aching for his touch.
“Christ, I’m going to explode,” he whispered in an urgent voice.
“Isn’t that the point?” The salty taste of him mingled with the flavors of the soup on her palate. It wasn’t bad.
“Damn it, woman, you’ll drive me into Bedlam, I swear it.” Before things could grow more frantic, he wrenched her to her feet. “Let’s not waste the momentum, hmm?”
“What?” A squeak of alarm escaped her when he shoved her up against the wall. She gawked at him as he took handfuls of her skirting and yanked it upward.
“Hook your leg on my hip,” he demanded, and when she did so, he held it in place, leaving her body open.
The squidgy sensation of the soup-dampened fabric layering against her skin wasn’t all that pleasant, but seconds later, he guided the head of his shaft along her sensitive folds, and with a grunt, he penetrated her passage, spearing into her stones deep, and filling her quite handily.
She quickly forgot about the weirdness. “Damn, you might be insane, but you feel so good.”
Anne planted her palms against his chest in an effort to push him away. “Once again, you neglected to ask my permission. I am not your plaything, Broderick.”
At least not yet. She wouldn’t make it easy on him.
Surprise flickered in his dark eyes. “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you.” The look on his face dared her to deny it.
“Go to hell,” she whispered, and bit her bottom lip to keep from grinning. Had he already compromised her mind in just one day?
“I’m already there, and have been for quite some time.” As she reeled from the odd response, he pinned her wrists to the wall above her head with a strength she both feared and relished, then he began to move within her body.
Just as he’d done hours earlier to her, his thrusts weren’t gentle.
In fact, he claimed her like a man possessed, and each time he shoved into her, she was pinned between the wall and the hardness of his form.
The most she could do, since he refused to relinquish his hold on her wrists, was tighten her leg about his waist merely to help her keep upright.
Over and over and over he speared into her.
Harder and more frantic his movements grew until she could barely hang onto reality as it slipped around her.
Perhaps because she’d already been aroused from earlier or perhaps her new husband was a force in general, sensations quickly swamped her.
A small release rushed up to claim her, not as powerful as the one she’d experienced in her bedroom, but lovely just the same.
Not wishing to give him the satisfaction, Anne tamped on her reaction.
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.
With a grunt then a muffled shout, he found his own release, but because he was a bounder as he’d claimed, he quickly withdrew from her body. Seconds later, when his shaft pulsed and jerked to deposit splatters of warm stickiness all over her mons and thighs.
“Congratulations on your wedding, Mrs. Cunningham.” That was all he said, and as he walked out of the room, he avoided looking into her face.
The shock and change in his moods left Anne sagging against the wall. He’d left her in such a position of embarrassment, that tears welled into her eyes, quickly escaping to her cheeks, for the whole experience was ultimately humiliating even if it had been pleasurable.
Would he ever change? It was difficult to know in that moment.
Eventually, the housekeeper found her. That good woman took one glance at the carnage in the room and how Anne huddled on a chair, and she sighed as she reached her location.
“Oh, you poor dear.” Mrs. Dirkfield clucked like a mother hen as she urged Anne into a standing position.
“We feared this would happen one day to Mr. Cunningham. He’s a devil, that one, and if he’s not careful, he’ll destroy every good thing he might possess. ”
Anne didn’t deny it as her cheeks burned from being found in such a state.
“Come, child. I’ll order another bath for you.”
“But it’s such a horrible expense. I’ve already had one today.”
“Nonsense. He deserves it for what he’s done to you.” The housekeeper patted her back. “One of the maids unfortunately passed the room while… things were happening. She immediately came to fetch me in the event you needed help.”
“Oh.” The heat intensified in Anne’s cheeks as did her tears. How embarrassing.
A quarter of an hour later, Mrs. Dirkfield assisted Anne into the same porcelain bathtub as she’d used before. “You’re probably numb with shock, dearie.” She gently wiped the tears from Anne’s cheeks with a soft handkerchief. “It’s going to be right as rain. You’ll see.”
“How?” She shook her head but succumbed to the other woman’s ministrations with a sigh. “He’s horrid. Just when I think he might not be, he opens his mouth, and he turns into the very devilish man you said he was.”
“I know, duckie. I’ve been in his employ for more than a few years.
” Her voice had a soothing effect. “His friends refer to him as the Duke of Udolpho. Heaven only knows why he chose that moniker, but all the men at that club of his have dark pasts. Some aren’t good men at all, and I’ll wager their morals are decidedly gray. ”
A shuddering breath escaped Anne as she leaned back against the side of the tub and allowed her eyes to close. “What about Broderick’s past?”
“He was a spy for England for a long time. Not many people know that about him, because it’s a shameful burden to be a spy.
They can’t be trusted, and most aren’t all that honorable to begin with due to the nature of the work.
” The housekeeper patted her shoulder. “He is a man haunted by his past. I rather think it’s trying to catch up with him now, and that frightens him. ”
That made sense. “Do you think he’s done those horrible things, or are they merely gossip?” And was one of them killing her brother?
Mrs. Dirkfield clicked her tongue. “Oh, he’s done them. A man’s eyes don’t look like his without having seen hell and back.”
“He claims he’s still there.”
“I don’t doubt it. There are times he cries out in the middle of the night, babbles as if he’s right back in the war, hunting down enemies of the Crown. Sometimes, we have the devil’s own time calming him.”
Another interesting tidbit that he suffered nightmares. Or was it the ghosts of the men he’d killed, whether they warranted it or not? “Do you believe he regrets what he was forced to do? Do you think he wants absolution?” she asked as she opened her eyes and peered at the housekeeper.
“It’s possible.” She shrugged and handed Anne a bar of finely milled French soap scented like lavender. “He’s a man who craves change, who wants to do good, who wants respect, but doesn’t know how to go about it and might not put forth the effort.”
“So he’ll eventually give in to his demons?”
“He might. I have a feeling if something isn’t done and soon, he’ll be lost. Men like him were never meant to take in all the horrors of war by themselves.”
“Perhaps it is different than being in the proverbial trenches with one’s friends.” Spies, by design, were required to go it alone and lose themselves to building a life of lies. “And now he’s married.”
“Forced into it, which would poke at the anger he already carries.”
“Yes.” They both were battling that. “For good or for ill, we are trapped with each other.” But she refused to let him abuse her like this again.
Mrs. Dirkfield gave her an understanding smile.
“Listen, dearie, it’s not the best situation for you either.
However, you’re here and perhaps this is the worst of it.
He’s vented his spleen and now the air is cleared.
” She shrugged and gave Anne a dried sea sponge.
“Men like Mr. Cunningham won’t fall easily, but they will fall hard if you can find a way to touch their hearts. ”
“What if his is too cold for any of that?” Besides, did she want to fall in love with him?
Love him in all the ways that mattered? After what he’d done in his past, and what he’d already done to her?
As well as her brother? In this moment, she could say no, she did not.
“Will he be a better person should that happen?”
“Who can say, but he can’t be a worse one.”
The corners of Anne’s mouth ticked upward in a faint grin. “There was that. Yet I rather doubt he’s a man capable of giving or receiving love.”
“On the surface it seems like that, but deep in his eyes is a yearning. It breaks my heart.” The housekeeper pinned up Anne’s hair so the bulk of it wouldn’t get wet.
“Be strong, my dear. If this is your lot, do what you can to make it tolerable. Unfortunately, that might mean talking to the devil and finding common ground.”
“I’m afraid of that.”
“And Christmastide is a time for forgiveness and understanding.”
She snorted. “I’ve never liked this season of the year, ever since my mother died.” And her governess turned her father’s mistress usurped that role before the official mourning period was over.
The housekeeper chuckled. “Peas in a pod, you are then. He needs a firm hand and an understanding heart. Perhaps you do too, but I’m always here to talk should you need it.”
“Thank you.” With a sigh, Anne began the task of scrubbing his seed off her body. So much confusion ran through her head, she didn’t know what to do.
But something had to change.