Fulfillment
Laurel Bennett
Copyright Laurel Bennett 2011
Published by Night Shift Publishing – Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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One
Mr. Masters,
I received your invitation and look forward to visiting your estate in Derbyshire. I expect to arrive in two weeks. Pray tell me that you’ll have wenches aplenty, along with fine liquor. After all, doesn’t every sojourn to your den of sin come with entertainment?
With anticipation,
Moxby
Randall Masters smothered a chuckle as he read the missive from his old friend, the Earl of Moxbury. It had been quite some time since he’d seen his oldest and dearest friend. Years, in fact.
“Is something amusing you?” Annabelle asked from her seat by the window. She raised her head from her book, finally? And all it took was a chuckle? He’d have to chuckle more often.
He tossed the note onto the surface of his desk. “Moxby plans to visit.” He watched her face as he said the words. She didn’t disappoint.
“Moxby?” she said, the corners of her lips falling in confusion. “Why on earth is he visiting?”
“I invited him,” Randall said with a shrug.
“Why would you do such a foolish thing?” She really was adorable when she was vexed. She tugged her spectacles from their perch on her nose and jumped to her feet. She was across the room in three strides, her skirt swishing with her movements. She held out her hand for the missive he’d just read. She snapped her fingers at him when he didn’t immediately produce it.
“Will it be awkward for you if he visits?” He watched her face closely, looking for a reaction.
She didn’t look him in the eye when she replied. “I wouldn’t say awkward is an appropriate word.”
“What would be an appropriate word?”
She snapped her fingers again and he handed the missive over with a heavy sigh. She read it, then scrunched up her pert little nose. “What an arse,” she said. “Wenches and liquor.” She circled the desk to drop into his lap. “Doesn’t he know that you only have one wench now?” She ran her fingers through the lock of hair that usually fell across his forehead. He specifically kept his hair long, just because he loved the feel of her brushing it back. But he would never reveal that to her.
“He has no idea at all about my wenchlessness. He’ll be in total surprise.”
She giggled and clapped her hands. “Oh, I do so love to see him when he’s caught unaware.”
“Then you shall be in your element, my darling,” he said, adjusting her in his lap. He was already growing hard beneath her bottom. He dipped his head and nuzzled the flesh exposed by the bodice of her gown. “What would you say if I told you to disrobe immediately?”
She looked down, ready to obey without a single thought. “If it pleases you, Randall,” she said sweetly, her cheeks pinkening as he watched. The pulse at the base of her throat began a mad rhythm beneath the fragile skin.
“It pleases me greatly,” he said. He patted her hip and nudged her to her feet. “Turn around. I’ll help you with the fastenings.”
She spun slowly, lifting her hair from her neck and sweeping it to the side. The scent of her tickled his nose and that familiar ache began anew. The one that was becoming all too familiar. He worked the fastenings quickly and efficiently. Then he dropped back into his chair and crossed his hands in his lap. She turned back to face him and let the bodice of her gown fall open, revealing a shimmery chemise below it. The shadows of rosy nipples were visible through the fabric and he wanted nothing more than to press his tongue to the silk until it was drenched and she was writhing in his lap. But he’d told her to disrobe. And she wanted to obey, he was certain.
She shoved the gown down over her hips and stepped out of it, kicking her slippers to the side at the same time. She reached for the ribbon of her garters but he grunted. “Leave them on?” she asked, her dark brows arching playfully at him. She knew how much he liked the silky slide of her stockings on his skin.
“Please,” he replied.
She shoved the straps of her chemise from her shoulders and he watched it slide slowly down, until it got hung on her right nipple, which was taught enough to hold the fabric in place. What it would feel like pebbling beneath his tongue?
“All the way off,” he said quickly. She shook her breasts, causing them to bounce slightly and the garment slipped free, puddling at her feet.
“Where do you want me?” she asked, her voice raspy and filled with longing.
***
Randall motioned her forward with one crooked finger. That golden lock of hair hung across his forehead again, and she moved to brush it back. He arched into her hand like a cat that wanted to be petted. Goodness, she loved him so much her heart could burst with it. He took her hips in his hands and guided her to where she stood before him with her bottom resting against the edge of his desk. He sat in his high backed chair, perched on the edge. He looked up at her, his amber gaze hot and unyielding.
He nudged her back a little on the desk, until it supported her weight. Then he raised her legs, one by one, to rest on the arms of his chair, one on each side. “What concerns you about Moxby’s arrival?” he asked softly as he lowered his head toward her curls.
His cool breath blew across her folds, open and exposed to his gaze. But he didn’t get any closer. He just blew and looked up at her. “Please, Randall?” she tried. She nudged her hips toward his mouth. But he didn’t move any closer.
“I asked you a question,” he said, his voice growing a bit harsher. Her belly flipped with excitement. This was why she was with him. Because he made her want to submit. To let him be in charge. To let him lead the way, with her having the knowledge that there would be pleasure in the end. And love. Always love.
“I don’t have a problem with Moxby visiting,” she said. He pulled her feet down from the arms of his chair and pulled her knees toward one another. She whimpered in protest. Certainly, he wouldn’t deny her.
“I don’t like it when you tell me an untruth.”
She bit her lower lip. He wasn’t angry. But his tone was firm. And she felt herself grow even wetter because of it. Her clit thumped so fiercely it sounded in her head. She wanted more than anything for him to touch it. To ease the ache within her. “I worry more about you with Moxby visiting. That you’ll be jealous about our past.” She reached for that lock of hair, but he pulled her legs back up so that her feet rested on the edges of the chair. Thank heavens.
“Why would I be jealous?” he asked as he parted her knees and pushed them far apart, exposing her to his gaze once again. He looked at her folds and licked his lips.
“You know that we were intimate long ago.” He rewarded her by kissing that place that throbbed so harshly for his touch, and licking across that little distended nub that was beating like mad. But he only licked it once. Then he looked up at her, his amber gaze resilient as he picked her soul.
“You were intimate back when you were discovering whether you wanted to be the top or the bottom.” He closed his mouth over her clit and sucked it hard, rubbing his tongue across it with every pull. He lifted his head and asked, “He’s a bottom, is he not?”
She gasped as he repeated his former action. “He is,” she replied. There was no way she would avoid him at this point. Or lie to him.
“And you like to be dominant on occasion.”
“I cannot be dominant with you,” she said. It would shake the foundation of their relationship. She loved that he was in charge. That he took care of her in all things. That she could obey him with no remorse. Yes, there were times when she wanted to tie him to the bed and make him submit to her will, but she couldn’t.
He came to his feet and began to work the placket of his breeches. His cock sprang free, and he stroked down the length as he cupped the back of her neck with his free hand. “What would you say if I told you that I invited him here for you?” he breathed against her lips.
She couldn’t withhold the gasp that left her mouth. The very thought. Dear God. “Why would you do such a thing?”
He pressed his cock against her folds, his hard length sliding in by slow degrees. “I don’t doubt that you love me,” he grunted as he shoved himself inside her to the hilt. He hit that magical spot that drove her wild as he retreated.
“I do,” she gasped out as he began to move inside her. He pushed her back so that she rested on her palms, her breasts thrust into the air. He caught her nipple gently between his teeth and worked it, then sucked it inside the hot cavern of his mouth. She cried out. “I love you with all of my heart.”
“I believe you can share your heart. And that you’ll be happier if you do.” He stilled and looked into her eyes. “If you do not want it, it will please me if you tell me.”
She wanted it. Dear God, she wanted it. There were times when she felt the need to be the master. It was unsettling, being what she was, someone who couldn’t decide if she should be on top or bottom. She’d chosen bottom, because of the great pleasure he offered her. “Why would you do this?” she asked as she brushed at that lock of hair.
He began to move inside her again. “Because I love you. And because it would please me greatly to share you with Moxby.”
“You’ve never shared me with anyone else.” A whimper left her throat as he pressed home. With the palms of his hands, he pressed her legs open wider, and went deeper inside her.
“And I never will,” he grunted, his eyes so hot she could drown in them. “I believe you have enough heart for both of us. And I have a secret desire to share you.”
“If it pleases you,” she cried as he brought his hand down to her curls and stroked across her clit with the pad of his thumb.
“You please me,” he said and then she felt herself floating in that place just before she broke into a million pieces.
“Please,” she cried and he sped his thumb. The climax washed over her, wracking her body in quivers that would not stop. She pulsed around his length as he came inside her, his hand on her shoulder, holding her close as he screwed into her.
He stilled inside her, yet she was still quivering. He stayed there until he began to grow soft and then he withdrew. He tilted her chin up and looked into her eyes. “I’ll never order you to do anything you do not want to do. But Moxby will be arriving, and I want to make my desires clear to you. If they’re your desires as well, you’ll act on them.” He shrugged. “If they’re not, that’s all right, too.” He kissed her quickly on the lips and adjusted his pants, fitting his length inside.
“May I dress?” she asked. She would stay naked all day if he desired it. In fact, when they’d first come together, he’d left her naked for a week. As they’d settled into their roles, they’d grown more comfortable with one another, yet she still liked to ask.
“You may,” he said. He crossed to the window and looked out. “You may want to do so quickly. Moxby is here.”
***
The Earl of Moxbury, or Moxby as his friends called him, ambled toward the door of the country home with one thought in mind. Masters home was known for debauchery, for all the raucous parties and extravagantly sinful events that took place there. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. But when he stepped across the threshold, he saw nothing. No naked women dangled on the staircase. No men in masks dashing down corridors. There was nothing more than an aging butler who asked him to follow him toward Masters’ study.
The servant knocked softly on the door and thrust it open when a voice called, “Enter,” from within.
Moxby ambled into the room and stopped short. For standing in front of Masters was Annabelle Greer. She stood with her mass of dark hair pulled to one side as Masters fastened the back of her dress. The bodice of her gown hung low over one breast, and she reached down to quickly adjust it, her face flushing with color as she did so. “Annabelle?” he asked.
“That would be Mrs. Greer to you,” Masters said.
“Beg pardon,” Moxby said quickly. He bowed at the raven haired beauty. “So nice to see you, Mrs. Greer.” He couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering down her body. He tried. But he just couldn’t.
“I should go,” she said quickly, looking toward Masters for directions.
“If it pleases you,” he said with a breezy wave of his hand. But then he added, his voice strong and clear, “I look forward to hearing your decision.”