Page 20 of The Taking of House Westwood

He had no problem with sadism — when exercised with some restraint. He enjoyed the sight of a bound woman in his bed, her ass raised high for the agony of a tight twenty with the cane. He understood well the appeal of exercising sexual dominance over another person.

But what Miriam indulged in … was something else. He had to keep close eye on her, more than a Lord should need to. She was constantly pushing limits, chafing under the limitations of his dictates. He’d even had to exercise a husband’s rightful prerogative, and spank her himself a time or two.

Afterward, she’d seemed more malleable, more willing to see things his way. However, all too soon, she would drift off course again, succumbing to her obsessions. He despaired that there was no going back to the Miriam he still loved, but no longer recognized. He knew that things would come to some sort of resolution upon his return to Westwood in four weeks time. He only hoped that his fears were unfounded.

The rider that had arrived with news two nights ago didn’t encourage him though. As he’d suspected, she was continuing with her unhealthy obsession with tormenting the commoner farmer, Clayton McClearn. He didn’t understand the fixation she had on him. He’d attempted to draw it out of her before his departure for the Frontier, but she’d demurred, saying his concerns were misplaced. He had offered to have McClearn summoned to Westwood for a meeting with them both, but she’d laughed off the suggestion as foolish. Frustrated, he’d left with strict instructions to her to leave the man and his family in peace. He’d deal with whatever was the root cause of the conflict upon his return.

Lawrence, his shoulder-length blond hair swinging at his back, walked by Andrus’ chair, sitting in his own on the other side of the fire. He crossed his legs, his shirt only partially buttoned, sweat gleaming on a well-muscled chest.

“Had enough of her for now, Captain? You’ve been doing more fucking than soldiering on this trip…”

Lawrence stiffened, sitting straighter in his chair. “Milord, I—”

“Relax, man,” Andrus said, waving a calming hand. “I’d rather you get it out of your system now, before something happens. I need you on the line fresh if, Gods forbid, the nocturne decide to move. And that’s another thing — it’s just ‘Andrus’, out here. Bollocks to titles.”

Lawrence sat back in his chair, finishing the buttons on his shirt. “Thank you, Milord — Andrus. You know you have me, whatever comes.”

“Of that I have no doubt, Captain.” He nodded, a hand extended toward Lawrence. “So, did she restore you?”

Lawrence smiled, his prominent canines gleamed in the candlelight, lending him the look of a satisfied wolf. “That she did.”

Andrus turned in his chair. The girl knelt in a compact posture on the bed, a thin white cotton top her only covering. Her gleaming eyes dominated her pretty face, the orbs reflecting the flicker of the firelight.

“Come here, girl,” Andrus said, beckoning her to him.

She hesitated a moment, no doubt trying to ascertain what her Lord had in mind.

“You’ve nothing to fear, girl. Come, sit with me.”

She moved to his side, her hands clasped before her, the strong smell of Lawrence’s semen mingling with the alluring musk of her sex. He drew her down upon his lap, tucking her head under his chin, a broad hand clasping the curve of her naked hip. She was tense, her hands twisting together.

Andrus looked down upon her, a smile on his lips. “You’ve been hard used, Ryndra. You’ve naught to fear from me. Take your ease, dove.” He held her tighter to his broad chest, nuzzling the girl’s straw colored hair.

She relaxed, laying a hand upon his breast. She sighed, her breath ragged. “Thank you, Milord.”

He held her for a few minutes, the intent gaze of Lawrence upon Ryndra the entire time. Perhaps his randy captain was not quite as sated as he’d initially seemed? Andrus tucked the hair back behind Ryndra’s delicate ear, his rough fingers stroking the tender flesh of her earlobe.

“Do you need me to take watch, Sir?” Lawrence sat forward as if to rise, a deliberate nod of his head toward Ryndra.

Andrus shook his head, his lowered hand signaling the Captain to stay.

Lawrence sat back once more, his long fingers drumming the handle of his chair. “Anything new on the towers?”

Andrus shrugged, his hand caressing the breathtakingly soft cheek of the girl in his lap. She was a lovely girl indeed, and not for the first time, he was glad his Captain had pressed her to come along on the trip. His cock began to stir, and despite the fact that Ryndra was nearly half his age, he didn’t feel like fighting the rise of his desire. It was a way to quiet the turmoil in his mind, to simply feel. It meant he hadn’t succumbed to his melancholy.

Yet.

“Turn, girl. No, facing your Captain.”

Her limbs were tense, but she obeyed, allowing Andrus to splay her thighs open upon his. Her sex was fully exposed, something not lost on Lawrence, whose possessive gaze took in the lovely sight.

“What did I miss while I was up in the clouds freezing my balls off, Lawrence?”

The captain’s gaze rose, but just for a moment. “Laird’s patrol is late.”

Andrus snorted. “So, in other words, the usual.”

Lawrence nodded, sitting forward, his elbows braced on his thighs, his gaze focused once more on the girl’s displayed pussy. “Maybe not so usual, Andrus. He’s two days late.”

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