SubmittingtotheRake Read Online Free Page B

having to agree with the earl.
Nonetheless, she professed, “I hope someone who merits her affection. Someone
who will make her happy.”
    “And what do you hope for yourself, Miss Merrill?”
    The question was an unexpected strike. No one had ever asked
her that before.
    “Myself?”
    “What sort of man will you marry or take a fancy to?”
    “This is hardly a subject—”
    “Pray tell you do not see yourself as a lonely spinster,
content after some time to marry a kindly but boring vicar with limited
prospects.”
    That he could guess the precise future she had foreseen for
herself disgruntled her.
    “That would be better than succumbing to a rake,” she
retorted.
    To her further disconcertion, he laughed. “Do you know what
I think, Miss Merrill?”
    “I do not care what you think, Lord Cadwell.”
    He was standing behind her now—which was worse than when he
stood in front of her for now she could not see him. She could only feel his
heat.
    He leaned toward her. “I think you wanted to come here for
yourself. I think if you had been in Josephine’s place, you would have accepted
my invitation and been furious at anyone who tried to stop you.”
    Her gaze blurred. She trembled inside. Good heavens,
could it be true?
     
    Stepping toward her, Sebastian lightly grazed the curve of
her rump. It proved a mistake. He could breathe in her scent—not the scent of
her soap or perfume, but something deeper, something that could best be
described as her essence—and it made the blood in him pound. His cock reared
its head. He would have ripped the clothes from her and fucked her there
against the post if he had lacked the resolve she had so flippantly questioned
earlier.
    Hell and damnation. After having convinced himself in
his room earlier that he had provided Miss Merrill a decent set-down, he had
returned, prepared to set her free and see her off home. But then she had
hurled those threats of hers. And looked so damn delicious tied to the post,
still flushed with arousal.
    For the first time, he had no plan, knew not what he
intended. He knew only that his hands itched to touch her, grab her, make her
quiver with pleasure.
    “Submit to me.”
    He knew not from whence the words had come, but suddenly his
clothes were too warm. He undid his neckcloth completely.
    Silence from her. He considered pressing his erection
against her derrière, but he needed her reply. There had been women from whom
he sought no consent for he knew full well their desire to be taken. And so he
had played the game with them, he the ravisher and they the willing victims.
    But not with Miss Merrill. A light spanking was one matter.
For what he truly wished to do to her, he wanted her acquiescence. Her
submission. Her surrender.
    “Submit to me,” he repeated, softly. “You can trust me.”
    Though he could not see the expression upon her face, he
could sense her defenses coming down. He needed them to come down faster.
    “You have such lovely hips, Heloise.”
    She perked up at the sound of her name and allowed him to
place his hands upon her. He grasped her hips, the flare of which her gown
could not hide. What wonderful handles they would provide if he chose to fuck
her hard from behind.
    “And the most delightful arse.”
    She was likely blushing at the compliment.
    He caressed a buttock, then placed his mouth near her ear.
“There is so much that can be done here…and here.”
    He trailed his hand up one side of her arm to her wrist and
down the other before cupping a breast. “And here.”
    A pause. “Such as?”
    Ah, he had stimulated her curiosity. Good.
    “Anything you wish.”
    With both hands he manhandled her breasts, eliciting a low
groan from her.
    “These,” he said, “can be fondled, kissed, bitten, pinched,
slapped—by hand or by any of the instruments you see before you. We could
fasten clamps to your nipples, pinch the flesh with pins, tie them until they
turn red with anger, adorn them with molten