Control and Compassion: A Risqué Regency Romance (The Gypsy Gentlemen Book 2) Read online

  Now she was totally at his mercy. Splayed before him like a slave awaiting punishment. It was not uncomfortable—he’d left enough play in the fabric for her to stand without straining, but she was quite helpless.

  What now?

  Nothing, apparently. Gyorgy strolled around the room, moving a candle, touching a painting, sniffing at her perfume on her dressing table. Marie-Claire could feel her heart pounding beneath the white silk as she closed her eyes and listened to him move.

  To be caught like this, trapped, awaiting his pleasure, was arousing her to fever pitch. The cool air swirled beneath her skirts and clashed with the moisture smearing her thighs.

  Gyorgy returned to stand before her and she opened her eyes.

  “I like your choice of fragrance.” An innocuous statement, but accompanied by his hands unfastening the ties on his shirt. Buttons were loosened, and he tugged it free of his breeches.

  “Thank you.” How she got the words out she had no idea. Every drop of her saliva had dried up at the sight of his chest. Muscles rippled as he slipped the garment off his shoulders. Dusky whorls of hair brushed the upper chest, narrowing into a line that delved down towards…

  She raised her eyes back to his, knowing he was watching her. “I approve.”

  He hadn’t asked for her approval, but she caught the amusement in his gaze. “I’m glad.”

  “You are in excellent shape for someone idling their way across the countryside.”

  He turned away from her and dropped his shirt onto his jacket. “I have not always ‘idled’, as you put it. I spent some time in France recently.”

  “Ah.” A few pieces clicked into place in Marie-Claire’s mind. “You and your fellow Gypsies were traveling in dangerous places, Gyorgy.”

  “We were indeed, Marie-Claire.” His lips firmed, punctuating his words. He would say no more on that topic, she was sure.

  He strolled over to the bed and picked up his whip. She swallowed, trying to catch her breath.

  A few flicks produced a soft crack of the thong, and he returned to stand in front of her. “Are you particularly attached to this garment?”

  Incapable of forming the words, she simply shook her head.

  “Good.”

  He dexterously flicked his wrist and sliced neatly through the tie at her waist, allowing the two halves to fall free and bare her body to his gaze.

  Try as she might, she couldn’t help it. She sucked in a ragged breath.

  *~~*~~*

  Finally.

  It had taken but a flick of his whip and he had a reaction out of her. A slight sound, no more, but it went straight to Gyorgy’s cock. Refusing to bend to its need, he left his breeches fastened for the time being. Soon, though…

  Her body was gleaming in the candlelight, all sleek curves and shadows, with the darkness between her thighs beckoning him like a Siren.

  The robe had caught on her breasts. That would never do.

  Carefully, Gyorgy lashed again. This time, the tip of the whip sliced the silk neatly, dropping it off one breast. Her nipple was a hard bud, casting shadows over the soft swell of her flesh.

  He could smell her now, her musky woman-scent blending with the floral perfume she wore. She was certainly responding to his unorthodox method of stripping her. And fuck, so was he.

  Another flick, another tattered piece of silk drooped lower. One more, and she was as near naked as she could be.

  The remains of the robe draped from her wrists and arms, and it took a few simple lashes to pull them away from her body. The fabric was lightweight and embraced the tip of the whip, eagerly leaving the warmth of Marie-Claire’s flesh for the sting of his thong.

  Like her.

  It was time to find out if she really did want to play.

  Her eyes remained fixed on his, clear blue still, but with pupils that were dilating. He still couldn’t sense her mood, or the level of her pleasure, but her body was telling him that she was enjoying this experience.

  Drops of moisture glistened between her thighs and her breasts looked fuller and heavy, their tips puckered tightly.

  They drew his attention.

  Very carefully, with all the skill he possessed, Gyorgy flicked his whip once more. The merest kiss of leather on that rosy little peak.

  Marie-Claire gasped. “Oh God…”

  His cock jumped painfully against his breeches. Her groan had damn near finished him. Without a second thought he stripped himself bare, and once again laid a delicate touch on the other breast.

  This time, she flinched a little and sucked in a quick breath.

  He knew he wasn’t hurting her. His skill was too good for that. But she’d be stinging a little, the blood rushing to her nipple, heightening its sensitivity. His cock could practically feel the heat as it rolled off her body in waves.

  He let a flurry of small lashes caress her breasts, which glowed pink from his attentions.

  She sobbed out another cry, and her head dropped back.

  Enough for the moment.

  Gyorgy neared her and lowered his head. He swept his tongue around her rock hard nipples.

  “Gyorgy…”

  The word was a plea, a sigh…a moan of delight.

  The skin was hot beneath his touch, her pulse throbbing in her neck and her chest rising and falling with her rapid breathing.

  He slid one hand down over her body and let his fingers cup her pussy. She was so wet. So hot. Running with boiling juices, just from the kiss of his whip.

  He stroked her, soothed her, and caressed her down from the heights a little as his tongue eased the sting of the whip from her breasts.

  She shuddered at his attentions, sighing once again.

  His fingernails grazed her clit, and she cried out in pleasure. He withdrew, making her bite back a sob.

  “Not yet, my lovely. Not yet.”

  Ignoring his cock, which throbbed as eagerly as the heartbeat beneath his lips, Gyorgy nibbled the soft underside of her breasts. She was becoming more and more responsive now, each of his actions eliciting a movement, a moan, a sigh from her.

  “Marie-Claire. Open your eyes. Look at me, Marie-Claire.” He thrust one finger deep into her darkness as he rasped out the words.

  Jumping a little at his intrusion, she jerked her head upright and opened her eyes.

  Yes. Now.

  Now the clear blue eyes were starting to burn. Now the pupils were inky black pools in the center of a stormy lake. Now Gyorgy could see the beginnings of her pleasure.

  It was working. She was starting to feel.

  He let his hand work her for a while, in concert with his lips on her breasts, arousing her a little, and maintaining his attentions to her body, while his mind raced with possibilities.

  He fought an inner battle, since there was nothing he wanted more right at this moment than to grab her buttocks, raise her up and plunge deep into her hot moisture. But he’d made himself a promise. He was going to make her feel. More than she was feeling right now. More than she’d ever felt before.

  A little prickle up his spine told Gyorgy that he might, in fact, feel it right along with her.

  He gentled his movements and withdrew his hand. “So good, Marie-Claire.”

  Her eyes focused on him as he raised his hand to his mouth and slowly licked the taste of her from his fingers.

  She seemed spellbound by his tongue, following its every move as he traced the length of his fingers, swiping at the gleaming trails of honey her body had left behind.

  “You taste so good.”

  She gulped, a rough movement at odds with her normal elegant demeanor.

  Gyorgy smiled.

  *~~*~~*

  “Fuck me, Gyorgy.”

  The words were wrung out of her as he pulled back from her body. She couldn’t hold them inside. She was boiling, blood thrumming in her ears, breasts hot as cauldrons and soul crying out with need.

  Watching him lick her taste from his fingers had been the most erotic moment
she could ever remember and she wanted him…deep inside her…right this minute.

  “Soon, my sweet. But not yet.”

  “Damn you…” It was a curse and a sob, yet inside her something was melting. She could wait. She could wait for whatever moment it was he chose to take her. To end this ache in her pussy.

  She drew herself up a little, ignoring the beating of her pulse that threatened to deafen her. She squelched down the fires that burned inside her.

  She could wait. Or could she?

  His smile nearly undid her resolution.

  She realized he was naked. Splendidly naked. His cock thrust away from its nest of dark hair, a sliver of light marking the moisture that had gathered on its head. At least she wasn’t the only one aroused by their games.

  Where was he going? What was he doing?

  She watched as he picked up a candle and brought it close to where she was tethered. He moved out of her line of sight, and spent long moments away from her, doing God-knew-what. Then he returned, her writing quill in his hand.

  Her mind scrambled to make sense of his actions.

  It damn near collapsed with shock when it did.

  With careful movements, Gyorgy dipped the end of the quill into the melted wax that had gathered around the candle flame. He gently allowed a drop or two to fall on his arm.

  He raised his eyes to Marie-Claire and her breath stopped.

  He wasn’t…he wouldn’t…oh God. He was. He would.

  Dark as night, yet lit by some burning emotion, Gyorgy’s gaze lowered to her body as he dipped the quill once again and softly touched it against her breastbone.

  The heat of the wax seared her skin, but cooled rapidly, taking away the sting of his touch.

  He traced a line with the warm wax down between her breasts to her navel. Each move, each dip of fresh wax, sensitized her already-screaming skin. As it hardened, it tugged on her flesh, adding to her excitement.

  He drew lines around her navel, then traced a path with the quill to her hipbones and let the wax fall into the hollows he found there. Never burning her skin, nor allowing a drop to go anywhere but where he intended.

  His control was unbelievable, and the sensations he was creating were driving her slowly insane. She was almost afraid of where he’d go next. Her breasts were tingling still from the touch of his whip, and Gyorgy must have sensed that, since he left them alone.

  He discovered new areas to play with. Places like her inner thighs. Dodging her own moisture, the quill found areas that aroused her and left her breathless as he painted them with the wax.

  Eventually, he seemed satisfied, and stepped back to survey his handiwork. “Very nice, my sweet.”

  His voice was harsh, and betrayed his own emotions. He was as excited by this game as she was.

  Marie-Claire involuntarily struggled against her bonds. The wax had hardened on her skin, tightening and arousing her, and she wanted to be able to touch him now… to learn his body, to take that cock deep inside her, and to scream out her desire.

  She was one fiery mass of need.

  She surrendered. “Gyorgy…no more.”

  Slowly she allowed her eyes to meet his. There were no barriers, no safeguards, nothing to prevent her from letting her emotions reveal themselves.

  She wanted him. And she wanted him now.

  “Ah, Marie-Claire. At last.”

  She frowned a little, tugging on her wrists. “At last what?”

  “At last you’re showing yourself. The real Marie-Claire.”

  “I don’t…I don’t understand…” It was the truth. She understood little or nothing of what he was saying. She was driven by a deep and overwhelming need, the likes of which she could not ever recall experiencing before.

  “I knew you were in there.” He released her bonds and pushed her back onto the bed, arranging her to his liking. She was limp in his hands, moving where he willed her. “I knew that eventually the woman you are would let herself go.”

  “So here I am. Gyorgy, for God’s sake…just do it.”

  Shamelessly, she parted her thighs, the invitation obvious.

  That erotic grin curved his lips once more. “You can go higher, love. Just wait…”

  She bit her lip against a scream of frustration. “Damn you.”

  “Patience, sweet.”

  Chapter Four

  I could use some of that myself.

  Gyorgy’s cock was harder than marble, almost painful now, and purpling as it sought the release it so desperately craved. But he was a man with a mission and bedamned to him if he sacrificed his goals just to satisfy his needs.

  He watched her eyes as he neared her, and showed her the letter opener he’d retrieved from her desk. Sharp and glittering in the candlelight, it made her freeze into immobility as he clambered up onto the bed next to her.

  Slowly and carefully, Gyorgy lowered the blade to her body. And scraped away the hardened wax.

  “Don’t move, Marie-Claire,” he warned.

  She showed no signs of moving any time soon. Her concentration was focused on his hand and the knife as he scoured down her body, gently lifting away the blobs and rivulets that marked her.

  Only her heart, pounding beneath his touch, told him of just how aroused she was.

  When he reached her inner thighs, he was met with the overwhelming scent of her juices, and he smeared them onto her skin as he removed the last of the wax.

  With a small sigh she shifted slightly, and Gyorgy tossed the knife away, not caring where it fell.

  He leaned forward into her and buried his face in her pussy.

  Her cry was sharp and immediate, and her hips squirmed, thrusting against him and demanding he satisfy her.

  He sought her hardened clit with his tongue, pushing and pressing and learning every nook that hid her secrets. Her moisture overflowed, soaking his face, and her flesh burned him, on fire and hotter than the wax he’d dribbled on her.

  She struggled a little, but Gyorgy refused to let her move away from his mouth. This would be her first orgasm of the night and he wanted to taste it. To give it to her, and her alone. To let her travel the road to oblivion by herself, accompanied only by his lips, his tongue, and his hands as they clenched hard into the softness of her buttocks.

  He kept up his touches, poking and prodding her farther along the way.

  It wasn’t a long trip.

  Within moments, her breath shortened, and he felt the muscles in her body contract. A sob broke from her throat and she trembled…on the edge of that magnificent fall.

  He flicked her clit, running his tongue around it and sucking hard.

  She fell.

  Her thighs clamped around his head and she shuddered and shook as she exploded against his mouth. He thrust his tongue deep into her, letting her muscles suck it and tug on it, loving every twitch and rolling caress.

  She screamed, her voice cracking as her body rode out her climax, fingers scrabbling unconsciously on the linens, and lost in the vortex he’d created within her.

  It was incredible, and Gyorgy hung on to his own emotions by the skin of his teeth.

  For long moments he stayed against her, letting the tremors ease and waiting…waiting for the right time.

  He felt the first easing of her thighs around his neck.

  Now.

  He raised himself up on his arms and positioned his cock at her entrance, bathing it in the wet flames that flooded her.

  With one thrust he claimed her, and with the next brought her back up to her peak, stroking firmly now, ever deeper, making her shudder anew and taking the breath from her lungs.

  She was so hot around his cock, slick with her own juices and trembling as his hips met her pussy, pounding her now, urging her even higher.

  Her legs rose, ankles locking behind him, holding him near. As if he could have left her. There wasn’t a thing in the world that could have stopped Gyorgy at that moment. He’d aroused Marie-Claire to undreamed-of heights, and in the process
he’d found himself drowning in her passions.

  Her eyes opened, and their gazes met and held.

  Blue eyes, burning now with a desire that seared his soul, stared at him…speaking to him eloquently of her need, her desperation, and her pain. And telling him how what he was doing to her was fulfilling her.

  Tears trembled at the corners, and he knew she’d see an answer to her questions in his own gaze.

  Gyorgy had never felt anything like this.

  Both were too far gone to last very long. With a final thrust, Gyorgy lost himself in Marie-Claire, his cock plundering her right up to her womb. His spine tingled with heat, his balls tightened to rock-hardness, and his breath left his lungs.

  She was right there with him. Watching him, blue eyes wide and glittering as she felt him begin his own ride into madness.

  She moved her hips, rubbing her clit against his body.

  And screamed again.

  This time, they journeyed together, Gyorgy groaning and spurting his seed deep inside Marie-Claire, who milked every drop, holding him tight against her as she came again.

  For long moments they stayed thus, caught in a timeless embrace, locked together as one, sharing the most intimate of experiences.

  Then, with a sigh, they parted.

  Gyorgy’s softened cock slid from her body, and he rolled to her side, gathering her close. Words seemed irrelevant, and truthfully, Gyorgy couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

  Marie-Claire yawned and snuggled into his chest. “Thank you.”

  Within moments, she slept.

  *~~*~~*

  Gyorgy awoke to the sounds of birds and the sunlight dappling his pillow. He stretched, languorous and content, enjoying the caress of the fine linens against his naked skin.

  And his early morning erection. He yawned and smiled, and reached for Marie-Claire. Only to find the bed empty.

  Cool sheets met his seeking hand, and he realized she’d been gone for some time. A servant tapped on the door, and with a curt command, Gyorgy bade him enter.

  “Where is your mistress?”

  “Good morning, sir. Her Grace sends her regrets that she will be unable to breakfast with you. A meal has been prepared should you desire to fortify yourself for your journey.”