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I was still out of breath when, with unerring steps, my abductor reached my room. He set me down on my feet, turned the key in the lock and faced me. “I knew every man would try to claim the most beautiful woman in the room, bouche. So I decided to take decisive action to secure you for myself.” The relief that ran through me was followed by a thrill of anticipation. This was, after all, what I had dreamed of for so long. Who was I to fight the Lord of Misrule?
“Be quiet,” I said sternly. He raised his brows in surprise but was dutifully silent. “I am in charge tonight. The Lord of Misrule must be obeyed.” I didn’t know whether it was the heady wine, the primeval throb of the dance or whether I was just too tired of fighting how much I hungered for him. But I decided there and then to make Montol night count. The moment was all that mattered. Fear and recrimination could wait for morning.
“Take off your mask and cloak.” He obeyed without hesitation. I stepped forward and tugged the fine lawn material of his shirt free from the waistband of his trousers. He reached for my waist. “I did not give you permission to move,” I told him severely, and his hands dropped instantly back to his sides.
Cad stood obligingly still as I slid my hands beneath his shirt and gently caressed the unyielding muscles of his chest, my fingers tracing the crisp hair and lightly brushing his nipples. Once or twice I dipped a hand tantalisingly lower to stroke his taut stomach, rejoicing in the indrawn breath the action provoked from him. With infinite, tormenting slowness, I undid the buttons and slid the shirt down from his shoulders. A little clumsily, I freed his arms and dropped the garment onto the floor. Standing back, I studied him, thrilling at the magnificence of his physique, delighting in the way his broad shoulders and well-muscled chest tapered to his narrow waist and hips. Walking around him, I traced the outline of each muscle, first with my fingertips and then with my tongue.
I lowered my gaze to where his erection pressed insistently against the cloth of his trousers. With fingers that were almost steady, I reached for the buttons to release him. Cad’s eyes widened and he drew in a sharp, ragged breath. His cock sprang free of the restraining material, and I touched my tongue to my top lip in a gesture of anticipation. Slowly, I slid my hand down the straining shaft. He groaned slightly in an expression of appreciative agony. Pleased with this response, I repeated the movement.
“Bouche, I can’t answer for the outcome if you do that again,” he said huskily, gazing steadily into my eyes.
“Stop talking,” I ordered, “And take the rest of your clothes off.” He obeyed, and I allowed myself a little, appreciative smile.
“I have no maid to help me tonight. You will have to take her place and undress me,” I turned my back so that Cad could undo the laces at the rear of my gown. Following his lead, I remained stock-still while he removed my clothes. Soon my dress and undergarments lay in a heap on the floor alongside his clothing, and I stood before him in only my silk stockings and garters. Reaching up, I freed my hair from its pins so that it cascaded down my back in tumbling waves. Cad’s arousal was gloriously obvious, while my own desperate need was apparent only in my burning cheeks and the way I trembled beneath his touch. My heart leapt as he carried me to the bed and placed me carefully down so that I was sitting on its edge. Kneeling before me, he drew the delicate material of my stockings down, tracing a path along my thighs with his lips and, once or twice, nipping the tender flesh lightly with his teeth. I toyed with the idea of objecting to him taking the initiative, but I liked it, so I stayed silent. When I was finally naked, he continued to kneel before me. Spreading my legs apart, he bent his head and just touched the tip of his tongue to my throbbing clitoris. My whole body jerked violently. Erotic memories of Paris came flooding back. I knew only too well what that tongue could do. I wanted to fall back on the bed and give in to this treatment, but I was enjoying the game far too much. I wanted to make it last. Tangling my hands in his hair, I hauled his head up. “I think, Mr Jago, that you are forgetting who is in charge.” Storm clouds of desire darkened the ochre depths of his eyes. “You may only touch me when I tell you to. I believe a penance is in order.”
