Saffina's Secrets Page 5

  “No.” He fell on my mouth and stopped all my questions with his greedy tongue. When he drew away, he was grinning.

  He sank down onto a wooden bench next to a rickety table and pulled me onto his lap. “Now tell me what you’ve been up to. Madame Junot’s keeping an eye on you, but she’s not privy to all your wicked deeds. Tell me all.”

  Puzzled at his sudden change of mood, I still seethed at his lack of trust in me. But pleased his fury had passed, I launched into a rambling account of my conquests. He laughed heartily when I told him about my new game.

  “Oh, and I’ve found a new steward. So you’ve no need to pack your secretary all the way back to London.”

  He smiled fondly. “A new steward? Indeed? And which of the pleasure-loving, idle guests you’ve run into so far has impressed you with their razor-sharp business skills? The drunken marquis? The doxy who passes for his wife?”

  “No, sir, even better,” I announced proudly. “A real find. His name is Henri Toulon, and he’s soon to take up an important post in the government. He seems a very sober and attentive young man, and he’s very interested in my estates.”

  “The deuce he is.” Jacquard’s eyes flashed. He took a deep breath. “Saffina, Henri Toulon is one of the most dangerous men in Europe. He’s the reason I’m in here.”

  I stared at him. “Why?”

  “No time to explain now. We go back a long way. Besides, did you even think to ask him how he knew you needed a steward? I’d told you and my secretary but no one else. Not even Madame knew of it. How many spies did he set at keyholes to glean that particular snippet, do you suppose? Come, I’ll see you back to your room. It’s dangerous for you to be away too long from the company. They’ll want to know where you are. If you don’t appear soon, someone may order a real search.”

  He led me back along the passage then drew me into his arms. “I’ll find you later. Kiss me.”

  Alarmed at his strange, intense manner, I raised my face to his but he crushed me up against the dusty paneling and buried his face in my neck. “Say nothing of this. All you know is I’m in Paris. Promise me, Saffina.”

  “I promise. You’ll come soon?”

  He fastened his mouth on mine, his tongue savage but his lips unbearably tender. When he drew away, I was breathless—and bereft. And alarmed at the fierce longing I glimpsed in his eyes.

  “Soon.”

  Back in my room, I was horrified to see the door I had so carefully locked gaping open. Outside in the corridor people were running to and fro, clearly looking for me.

  Taking careful note of the panel’s position, I pushed it to the wall and heard it click softly into place. I pushed the table firmly across it and walked out into the corridor.

  There was a cry from the far end as both Henri and the marquis came running up. “At last, the Dick-Tease.”

  One look at my flushed face and rumpled garments told them all. Henri scowled but the marquis beamed, his eager gaze lingering on my cleavage. “Aha. I see you’ve been found.” He winked. “So tell us, who was the lucky fellow?”

  “La, sir, that’s my secret,” I said quickly. “But here, if you promise not to demand I reveal it, I’ll offer up a stocking as forfeit.” I grinned at them both and slowly removed it, making quite a show of revealing my leg.

  The marquis laughed heartily but Henri looked shocked as I handed over their prize with a serene smile. “So how’s the game? Is it a success?”

  At that moment a shrieking female clad in nothing but a wisp of lace hurtled past us, followed by a red-faced German Baron. They vanished around the corner with whoops of laughter.

  “The house is in uproar, thanks to you.” Henri stared at me accusingly, his manner grim.

  “Excellent.” I gave the marquis a cheerful wink and blew them both a kiss. “I’m delighted to hear it, gentlemen. In that case, I’ll say goodnight.”

  I closed the door on them both with a huge sigh of relief.

  When Madame arrived, I submitted to her bony fingers with a real frisson of excitement, knowing what lay ahead. When she looped my arms to the bedposts, I yielded willingly enough, but my temper soon prickled again as the powerful oil began to work its magic.

  “What’s in that stuff, Madame? Some devilry of your own?”

  Her eyelids lowered as she replaced the lid. “Merely ginger, rose oil and a tiny dash of capsicum, milady just to give your intimacy a little heat. Also saffron for color.”

  None the wiser, I scowled at her anew. My arousal, already primed to aching by my unexpected encounter, responded to the ointment even faster than usual. At this rate, I’d come before my lover even turned up.

  The shame of it…

  Dread of showing the powerful effect the stuff was having made me grit my teeth. In desperation I cast round for a distraction—and grew rash.

  “Why did you not tell me he was still here, Madame?” I asked. “Why does he confide in you and never in me?”

  I shrieked as she landed a fierce slap on my jutting ass. She let her hand linger, glued to my skin for painful extra seconds by the thick salve. The force of the sting almost knocked the breath out of me.

  “Silence, you stupid little fool. Do not say such things. Not even in a whisper. People ’ere listen in corridors, outside windows. No one must know.”

  I stared as her eyes filled with angry tears.

  “He should be in Paris. He would be safe by now if he listen to me. But he insist on staying ’ere to protect you.”

  “Protect me? Whatever from? This is France. It’s a civilized country. And we’re in the nineteenth century, not the middle ages.”

  She slapped me again, harder.

  Her eyes flashed. “Quiet, milady. France may be civilized, but not some of the guests staying ’ere. If that man finds him, he kill ‘im. And you kill ’im too if you give ’im away. So taisez-vous, madame. Pour l’amour de Dieu, stay silent.”

  Tonight I had longer to wait. Once more I was afraid—not of ghosts this time, but of some creeping evil I did not understand.

  Jacquard was in trouble. His tense manner had told me that. And Madame’s fear was frighteningly real. I’d never seen her in such a state.

  And now for the first time, I began to sense something about Henri Toulon I’d not noticed before simply because I’d not looked for it.

  Why sneer at a house party? In fact, why come here at all if he’d no intention of joining in the fun?

  He is here on business.

  As the candle burned low and the house grew quiet, I shuddered. Fear seeped over me but I shook myself. I was more than a match for Monsieur Toulon. If I could tease a marquis, I could certainly outwit a clerk. And very soon now my secret lover would be here to fill me in all the places I wanted to be filled.

  * * * *

  “Wake up.”

  Jacquard’s voice was barely a whisper but it thrilled me like sunrise, bringing all my tingling, sleepy arousal to life. I opened my eyes with a snap and blinked in the dim light from the candle. I could feel his body heat curved over my back like a mantle.

  Lower down, jutting hard against my creamed, slick opening, I could feel something else. He was pushing the head of his hot, bold cock hard against me with jutting little thrusts. Eager for entry, he jerked me awake and nudged me to pleasure with every move.

  He kissed the side of my neck with a soft, hauling warmth that made me writhe. I hung breathless in my bonds, my arms aching and my skin chilly from sleep. I felt his lips and his tongue as he laid a trail of hot, reviving kisses all along my shoulders.

  He reached around to fondle my quivering breasts. Then to my joy he eased his fingers into my oiled, slick opening

  I whimpered as his other hand pinched and teased my nipples, his soft laugh warm on my ear. I shuddered when he cupped my pulsing, eager mound. I sighed as he splayed his fingers between my legs and pulled me back against him, the better to reach.

  His cockstand pressed painfully into my lower back, rigid and masterful.
He flexed his fingers and pushed them deeper to explore my folds—parting, exposing, sliding into their dainty crevices without mercy and invading every tiny, private crease.

  Now his low murmur—part purr, part snarl—stirred on my ear, “You disobeyed me, child. By now you know my tastes, and you also know the penalty. So I’m guessing you did it on purpose. Are you ready for your punishment?”

  Chapter Seven

  Yes, yes. I’m ready for anything… “As ready as I’ll ever be, my lord.” The words escaped before I could stop them. What was I thinking? Should I say this to a man like Jacquard? I still knew so little about him—or his range of torments.

  “Do you know what this is?” His voice purred once more in my ear.

  I felt something hard and flat being drawn slowly up over my belly and my breasts. It quivered before my face as he held it up for me to see.

  I stared at it, puzzled. It was a long, wide strip of leather, dark brown in color, shiny and well used in texture. It smelled of harness and had a fringe at one end.

  I swallowed.

  Something told me the fringe was not for ornament. It had a use. I broke into a sweat.

  He murmured again, his lips disturbingly close to my ear. His tone now had an edge. “This is a tawse. You’ll receive six strokes then let me know how you like it. No need for words—your greedy little cunny will tell me soon enough. And if you do, maybe we’ll try a local specialty too.”

  The first blow landed with a hard, flat shock across both cheeks of my rump. I jerked in my bonds, tugging painfully on Madame Junot’s tight, efficient bindings looping my wrists to the unforgiving bedposts.

  The pain of his stroke flowered and glowed. I hardly had time to draw in a breath when the next blow landed, a little lower this time. I jolted again. The effect on my belly was instant and inevitable. The steady pulse that started up every time we did this now pounded out a heady, steady drumbeat. My excitement began to build, beating in a rhythm that could surely only end one way.

  And now the blows fell faster and stronger. Soon I was breathless and dizzy, overcome by the power of my responses. As the last one landed, I felt a long, slow trickle of juice wander down my thigh.

  Now I knew that if he wanted to continue with this, I was doomed. I had no way to hide my shameful pleasure—or my craving for more.

  My tears were smarting from the shock far more than the hurt. The sting was hard and flat but less severe than from a cane or a crop. The sensation seemed to spread wider. My real agony came from the thickly spread cream. The blows lingered, prolonging the sting, deepening the bite. The six blows he delivered demanded more strength to endure than a dozen lashes.

  His breath came faster now, but his touch on my burning bottom was cool and smooth. His caress lingered, his tenderness almost as arousing as his fearsome strokes. “Very nice. You color well. A true lover’s rose. Now we’ll see how much you enjoyed it. And yes, what’s this? Delicious…” He stooped low behind me and licked the inner slope of my thigh.

  The stroke of his tongue was so gentle after the harshness of the blows, his caress so tender that I felt the tears smart again. Now they squeezed out and trickled down my cheek—yet more shame.

  “You use a tawse often, my lord?”

  I really meant— What other women have you pleasured with one? Were they braver than me? More beautiful? More alluring?

  And as ever, my one constant question— How many?

  But as ever, my curiosity was doomed to stay unsatisfied.

  “Silence. What I use and when is my affair. Yours is simply to endure. For impertinence, you will receive two more strokes. Flex open. Wider.”

  Startled, I strained to widen my thighs, terrified of what would come next. Surely not…under there? The thought made me dizzy.

  I spread my legs as wide as I could, obedient purely to save myself undue trouble. All at once the thing landed again, on the inside of one moistened thigh. I jerked in my bonds. The sting was awful, forcing yet more tears. I clenched my teeth and awaited the next. Sure enough, it landed with a harsh slap on the other side. Now my entire lower half was in flames.

  Why so harsh?

  Now he ducked under my arms and knelt up on the bed before me. His calm smile of arrogance, the patrician flare to his nostrils, both hinted at victory.

  “You enjoyed that.”

  A surge of his fingers deep into my slick, throbbing folds warned me that he needed no answer—my treacherous juices agreed, whole-heartedly. He brought his hand away glossy and wet, a shining witness to my darkest, deepest desires.

  “Lick my fingers clean.” His quiet command set more juices flowing. He dangled his warm fingers just out of reach, over my face, forcing me to arch up to reach and giving him a chance to admire my pulsing, straining throat.

  I fellated his fingers eagerly, tasting my own saltiness and wishing fervently I had his cock in my mouth in their place. But tonight he seemed in no hurry to reach his own satisfaction. Worse, I suspected he planned to make me wait for mine. His cock stayed firmly outside me, hard, hot and eager as he thudded it against my soft quivering belly, close enough to tease, far enough away to torment. His stern gaze warned me I could admire, I could even feel, but I would have to wait for fulfillment.

  “Eager, my sweet? Be patient.”

  “I’m trying, my lord.” I sounded husky, as well I might. Something in my tremulous tone caught his attention. He paused, dipped his head and kissed me deeply, tracing a hot, burning path with his pulsing glans all round my taut belly and over the tops of my thighs.

  I writhed, heaving at my bonds, well aware he meant to extract every last drop of yearning from me before he used his monster to the full, to take me to the next level.

  At last he drank his fill of my eager mouth and we pulled apart. His hands felt gentle now on my shuddering flanks. He lingered, his touch probing and intimate in all the pulsing, quivering places where it mattered most.

  “Now I promised you something new. We’re going to try the newest local toy. Here.”

  He reached behind me to the chair where he’d dropped the tawse. I felt a flutter of thin, feathery tendrils trail over my back, like a march of spiders.

  I shivered and gave a little half-cry, part fear, part surprise at this gentle touch where I’d expected harsh pain.

  He laughed and did it again. Now he trailed the teasing, spidery wisps over my burning bottom then slowly up my back and around my shoulders. I heard a light clatter as he did it, warning me this new torment had some hidden extras.

  When he held it up before me, I saw a forest of little leather strands, bead-tipped and knotted, like the hair of some devil-woman.

  “This is a martinet, used to discipline recruits in the navy. And now we’re going to use it to discipline you.” His soft words bore no relation to the snap that followed as the little lashes made contact.

  They looked harmless enough, their pretty beads gleaming blue, green and orange in the dim light from the candle. But as the lashes fell, the tiny knots made a vivid pattern of stings and prickles all over my breasts. At each new blow, harsh pinpricks darted like needles.

  The first snaps seemed less severe than the tawse. But as his wrist flicked time and again, the effect began to build up. Soon my breasts, which hardly moved under the soft, fierce onslaught, began to glow all over as if he’d sparked rows of tiny flames.

  Now my juices trickled in a steady stream. My quivering, private places, swollen already, glowed almost to numbness.

  His laughing eyes mapped my every move and twitch, seeming to judge precisely how and where to land the next snap and how hard or gentle to make it.

  I tried to close my eyes, to savor the long undertow of heat that was steadily burning deep inside. He flicked my nipple with a cruel snap of his fingers.

  “Look at me. I want to watch.”

  “You are too harsh, sir,” I wailed. “Let me enjoy it in peace. I beg you.”

  He grinned and dropped a fond kiss on my s
weating brow. “Enchanting. You are a rare blossom indeed, my pet. Your enjoyment fuels mine. But I watch you not to tease, I promise, but for your safety. I have to know what you’re thinking and how this feels, or I may go too far. Your limpid, beautiful gaze is my sole guide. Ten more strokes then we’re done. But be warned. These will hurt.”

  If they did, I hardly knew anymore, his words had fired up such a wave of happiness. So my strict guardian had feelings for me after all—and tonight I was allowed a tiny glimpse into his heart.

  My excitement was now white-hot. Surely he felt this too? His breathing was ragged, his brow filmed in sweat like mine. His chest heaved with emotion but his gaze grew stern and remote.

  At the final flurry of blows, I gasped and groaned aloud. The little stings glowed all over my skin, back and front, so fiercely that I felt on fire. And yet he still denied me release. Instead he looked me over while kissing me here, touching me there.

  He licked first one part then another, easing his tongue deep into places I’d never expected tongues should go and making me plead for more until I was ready to scream.

  And at last, infinitely slowly, he slackened my loops then slid them down the bedposts until his bucking shaft loomed just over my mouth.

  “Suck.” His command fired instant heat. I licked and sucked with a will, working my mouth harder and faster than I’d ever managed before. I leaned over him to swallow then choked in my haste to take him deeply into my throat.

  “Easy, child. Take your time.” With a smile he withdrew, hauling my wrists high up again.

  Now he moved around behind me, reaching down to lift me under the arms and pull me up hard against him. He used one hand to cup my sex, the other to knead cruelly at my tingling breasts. All at once he surged up into me from behind in a slick, glorious thrust that filled me with heat and thrilling, straining, maleness.

  I felt my belly tug him in as he slid slowly away then thrust again. He began to pound, his own drumbeat so much harder and louder than my own. At the same time he worked his cupping hand on my throbbing, lively little mound, pressing repeatedly.