Page 58 of The Devil's Pawn

My mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out. I don’t understand my silence any more than he does. I have no problem arguing with him ninety percent of the time, but whenever sexual tension explodes between us, I can’t think of a single thing to say. All my usual comeback lines flee, my brain to mouth connection severed.

“I’m not sure which I prefer. The disobedient one, or thesubmissive one.” He flicks the lash of the crop against my nipple again, harder this time. It stings, but the pleasure is glorious. Another cry spills out of me.

“I like to hear your cries,” he says, lashing me for a third time.

I’m so up in my head that I jump when he slides his hand inside my jeans. I don’t even remember him unfastening them. I tense as he runs a finger through the wetness.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Soaked. My wife likes a little pain with her pleasure, it seems.”

Do I? Is that why I’m so turned on by what he’s doing to me? Every interaction is a learning opportunity, and I’m learning that I like this. I like this very much.

He yanks my jeans and panties down over my hips and ass and slides one finger inside me, quickly adding a second, stretching me. It’s uncomfortable, but as he works them in and out, the discomfort vanishes. It’s good.So good.I’ve never felt anything like it, but when he bends his dark head and sucks on my nipple, I realize he’s barely scratched the surface of what he’s capable of making me feel.

Gripping his shoulders for balance, my head lolls back, and my jaw slackens. He licks and bites and nuzzles me, and my pleasure climbs and climbs. My lungs work overtime, sweat beading across my brow. I clasp the back of his head, digging my nails into his scalp and thrusting my chest out, pushing him on to me. He groans. It’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. I want to hear it over and over.

“Jesus,” he mutters against my skin, blowing on my nipple before moving his attention to the other one. As he latches on, he flicks the crop against my clit, once, twice, a third time, and I can’t hold on another second. Pulse after pulse of pleasure rockets through me. My knees give way, buthe catches me, locking a supportive arm around my waist to hold me upright.

As I come down from my climax, and my vision clears, I blink, blowing a stream of air through pursed lips in an attempt to slow my heart.

His fingers are still inside me, and my muscles are still quivering. Eventually, they stop, and it’s only then he pulls them out. I feel empty and exposed now that I’ve come, and acutely conscious of my nakedness.

“Suck.” He presses his fingers to my lips, and when I open my mouth, he runs them over my tongue. It feels dirty, yet at the same time, I can’t deny the effect it’s having on me. My face burns, embarrassment engulfing me.

I shift away from him, pulling up my underwear and jeans, then dropping to my haunches to pick up my tattered clothing. He’s destroyed my bra and my shirt, but at least I can pull the two parts over me, keeping some of my dignity intact. I only hope I don’t bump into anyone between here and the privacy of my rooms.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a clipped tone.

“Dressing.” Horror bleeds into my chest as his question hits home. “Oh. Oh, God. You… you want your turn now, don’t you?” I bite my lip, but as I start to take off my ruined shirt, Alexander’s hand closes over mine.

“No.” He slides his jacket off and places it over the door to Lottie’s stall. Next, he removes his shirt and puts it around my shoulders. I’m too busy drinking in the sight of his bare torso, with its rippling muscles and defined shoulders, not to mention the ridges across his abdomen, to realize what he’s doing.

“Imogen.” His commanding voice demands attention.

I force my gaze to his. “Yes?”

“You’re shivering.” He buttons up his shirt over my ruined one, fastens my jeans, then puts his riding jacket around my shoulders. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to the house.”

“And then what?” If he isn’t planning to take his turn, why is he accompanying me? Alexander doesn’t do chivalry. He made me come, but wants nothing in return? If this is some kind of mindfuck, then consider me well and truly fucked.

“Then…” He shrugs. “The night is yours.”

I frown. Sometimes I’d rather he was dour and crass and thoughtless. When he behaves as though he cares, it makes me want things I can’t have. “I don’t understand you at all.”

A flicker of sadness crosses his face, disappearing as fast as it came. “Few people do.”

Chapter Twenty-One

IMOGEN

It’s sunny and warm on Thursday morning as I head over to the stables to go riding. Now that Alexander knows everything, I don’t have to keep my visits to Tuesdays when he goes… wherever it is he disappears to. I still don’t know what takes him away from Oakleigh every week, and it’s clear he has no intention of telling me. Who cares? He can keep his secrets. I’m not interested in what he gets up to in his spare time.

True to his word, he accompanied me back to my rooms after what happened between us in the stable block and left me alone. I didn’t even get a peck on the lips, just a murmured, “Sleep well.”

I was, and still am, confused by his sudden interest in me sexually, as well as his behavior afterward. Although, is it all that sudden, really? We’ve had several highly-charged sexual moments, but he’s never before taken it as far as he did on Tuesday.

He's the most contradictory man I've ever known, a puzzle I’d love to crack. One minute, he doesn’t even attemptto hide the lust in his eyes. The next, he’s bored or indifferent toward me.

I thought the unexpected turn of events at the stables on Tuesday might have made it hard to sleep, but the opposite happened. I’ve slept like a baby the past two nights, although anxiety has gnawed at me when I’ve woken each morning as I’ve tried to work out what to say to Alexander when I next bump into him. Except, I haven’t caught a single glimpse of my errant husband since our ‘moment’ together. He wasn’t at breakfast yesterday, nor today, and it’s rare I see him at dinnertime unless there’s a family gathering. I’m not sure whether to feel relieved or aggrieved.

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