SubmittingtotheRake Read Online Free

he allowed a husky
quality to creep into his voice. “Your body, Miss Merrill, proves the
possibilities.”
    Running his hand around her thigh, he palmed a buttock. Glorious. He grasped the flesh more firmly and heard her groan. Flipping the dress and
petticoats over her waist, he laid bare the prize. Two perfectly rounded orbs,
as unblemished as those of a babe, gleamed in the dim light of the candles. He
licked his bottom lip as if he were about to feed on a succulent cut of
beefsteak. He delivered a sharp slap with the back of his hand and watched in
delight as the mound of flesh quivered.
    “How many, Miss Merrill?”
    “Hmmm?” came the dazed voice from beneath the layers of
fabric.
    He gave her a formidable swat.
    “Four,” she answered quickly.
    Sebastian smiled to himself. She could be trained.
    “Eight it is,” he said. “If I have to repeat myself again,
we will triple the number.”
    Greedily, his hand slapped at her arse. The smack of bare
flesh to bare flesh rang in his ears as melodious as a symphony. When he was
done, he gazed with satisfaction at the red imprints his hand had left upon her
pale skin. He could smell her arousal and confirmed it when he slid his hand
between her and found her wetter than before. His erection pressed painfully
against her hip.
    Abruptly, he stood and dragged her to the post.
    “What are you—” she protested when he pulled her wrists
around the post and tied them overhead with silken rope.
    The hemp he would save for another time.
    Another time? Sebastian silently cursed himself. What
the bloody hell was the matter with him?
    Stepping back, he admired her form pressed against the post,
which cleaved her breasts and separated the globes to either side. Miss Merrill
was not unattractive. Her rounded figure reminded him of Ruben’s portrait of
Hélène Fourment. Supple. Ripe. He could see himself entwining his fingers in
her lustrous dark hair. She had a complexion free of blemish and that required
little in the way of powder or rouge. And those voluptuous lips…
    A sense of remorse crept into him as he observed how Miss
Merrill’s bottom lips quivered. She had very full lips. More succulent than her
cousin’s. He wondered how such lips would feel beneath his own. He imagined
taking her mouth would be like sinking into a rich, sweet strawberry.
    His head swam with lust, and he needed to clear it before he
did something he did not intend—such as tearing the clothes from her and
ravishing her. He reminded himself of the anger that he had felt earlier. The
impudence of this woman, to foil his plans for a pleasant weekend and deprive him
of the joys of exploring Miss Josephine’s lovely body. The effrontery of her to
stand there in judgment of him with those wide brown eyes—eyes possessed of
such clarity that he could see every emotion through them. He almost feared
looking into them too deeply.
    Worst of all, she had had the audacity to speak to his own
reservations where Miss Josephine was concerned.
    “Miss Merrill, I leave you to contemplate your situation.”
    Her eyes widened and pleaded with him.
    He could not let her go—did not want to let her go—but could
not trust himself to stay. His cock, hard as the post she was tied to,
stretched agonizingly. He turned, avoiding her gaze for fear that he could too
easily give in to those doe-like eyes, and left her to seek the reprieve of his
own chambers and ponder what the hell he was to do with her next.
     
    Heloise yanked at her bindings with enough desperation to
cause the rope to chafe against her wrists. She simply had to escape.
    But escape from what ? a sardonic voice inside her
asked. From his exquisite touch? From facing the fact that she had, indeed,
enjoyed what he had done to her—that her body had been aroused to wetness by
it?
    She shook her head vehemently at the voice. Who knew what
other devious plans the earl had in store for her? The spanking had been
relatively harmless—though her arse