The Reddington Scandal (13 page)

He striped his way back up her bottom and her moans grew louder.

“I’m sorry! Teddy! Please! Oh! No!”

He striped back down, and she grew quiet again. Eighteen strokes so far. She was close, he could tell. He applied the strap to the juncture where her bottom met her thigh, the place where she would remember his spanking every time she sat. He struck the same place over and over again, five times, six times until he heard a sob. He dropped the strap but continued to spank that same place with his hand, first the right side, then the left, listening to the sound of her tears erupting in great heaving sobs. He spanked her for another minute, giving her time to release her tears, then rubbed her bottom lightly. It was a deep plum color, with striated marks from the strap.

To his surprise, she pushed herself up immediately, wrapping her arms around him and burying her wet face in his neck. He kissed her head, running his hands over her bare back, the feel of her skin intoxicatingly soft. “Phoebe,” he murmured softly.

“I love you, Teddy,” she said in his ear.

He pulled her legs around his waist so she straddled him, his sex rock hard from the feel of her naked form against him. She felt it and moved her hips so she pushed the moist slot of her sex over his bulge. He groaned. He had not planned to urge her into sex so soon after her punishment, but she seemed to want it. He hurried to free his length from his trousers, letting it spring out. She wasted no time positioning herself over it, clearly not requiring any encouragement or instruction on the new position.

He gasped when she lifted her hips and sheathed herself over him, her moist heat enveloping his shaft all at once. He cupped her swollen bottom, pulling her into him and she responded eagerly, grinding faster and harder. He began to lose control, the rhythm growing rough.

“Yes, Teddy,” she urged him and he exploded into climax, yanking her against him and holding her there until he’d filled her with his seed. She did not climax, but did not seem to mind, leaning forward to kiss him. It was an aggressive kiss, the first she’d initiated, and he reveled in the gift.

“Are you sorry you married me now?” he teased.

“Yes, I shall be sorry every time I sit tomorrow.” Her face grew serious and she stroked a finger down his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

She shrugged. “I need you.”

“I need you too, Phoebe.”

* * *

Later that night, she sat brushing her hair, dressed in her nightgown. Her bottom was sore from her spanking, but her heart overflowed with warmth and a desire to please her husband. “Are you going to teach me about the ‘
cada orificio
’ tonight?”

Teddy choked on his warmed milk and gave her an enormous grin. As it had been, they’d stayed in bed until supper, Teddy giving orders for their room to be put back to rights.

Her heart beat against her ribs, quickened by her own boldness and his reaction to it caused a flush of heat to spread across her skin.

“I’d love to,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “But first, I think I’ll call for a bath. It is more pleasant if we’re freshly washed.”

The tub was duly sent for and filled and he dismissed the servants.

“You will bathe first,” he said, lifting the hem of her nightdress, stroking her bare flesh as he slid it up her body and over her head. She caught her breath when she saw the dark, hungry look on his face. She slid into the warm water and sat down. Teddy knelt beside her, picking up the washcloth and stroking it across her chest, then circling her breast with slow, sultry attention. Watching, she could see the emphatic thump of her heart in the way it moved her peaked nipple. She rested her elbows on the edges of the tub and allowed her head to fall back. Teddy continued his caressing, stroking the cloth over every peak and crevice of her body until he reached the juncture between her thighs. There, he abandoned the cloth, allowing his fingers to glide over the sensitive pleats. One leg jerked in reaction, but she let her knees fall open to him. Teddy teased her, just lightly brushing her intimate folds with feather touches, enough to make her jump and jerk and yearn for more. Heat flooded her inner core and she found herself panting, uncomfortable in a needy sort of way.

“Does she want more?” he murmured, sensing her mounting distress.

“Who? Oh!” she cried, realizing he was personifying her sex. Embarrassed, she bit her lips, unable to answer him.

“Step out of the bath.”

She stood so quickly she saw stars, but Teddy took her arm and steadied her as she stepped out of the tub and he toweled her off with an attention that made her feel as if she’d had too much wine. When she was dry, he said, “I’ll just be a moment,” and stripped out of his clothes, stepping into the water.

She stared at him, realizing it was the first time she’d seen him or any other man in full nudity. His chest was broad, dusted with hair, muscles standing out in bold definition. His manhood was thickened and ready, lengthening even more when he observed her focus. She knelt beside the tub, gingerly reaching her hand in the water to grasp it. Teddy drew in his breath as his length surged in her hand, growing well past her wrist. Emboldened by his reaction, she met his eye, wondering what to do next. His eyes were dark as he wrapped his hand over hers, showing her to grip at the base, then move it down the length of his shaft, over the mushroom head and back up again. She continued after he released his hand, fascinated by the hot pulsing under her fingers, and the power she seemed to wield as she coaxed shaky breaths from her husband.

“Enough,” he said abruptly, his voice low and guttural. She sat back on her haunches, watching him stand up out of the bath and quickly dry off. He climbed up on the bed, sprawling back on his elbows. “Come, little dove.”

She swallowed, feeling a sudden case of nerves. She crawled up over him, grasping his cock again and slowly lowering her head. “That’s it,” he whispered as she tentatively opened her lips. She placed just the end of it in her mouth, wondering at the contradiction of soft skin over a hard organ. “Yes, Phoebe. Go deeper,” he urged.

She glanced up at his face and, seeing the dark, animal desire there, opened her jaw and took him deeper. His groan served as her encouragement. She slid her mouth back up, then tested the effect of her tongue on the head of his cock.

“Oh, Phoebe,” he groaned.

She smiled, flicking her tongue faster, watching as a tiny drop of fluid beaded up. She lapped it up, tasting a salty tang, then continued circling the entire head of his cock before she opened her mouth and took him in again, earning another deep groan.

“Phoebe,” he said hoarsely. “Turn around.”

“Pardon?” she asked in confusion, turning to look behind her.

He sat up and reaching for her. “Give me your legs.”

Still perplexed, she crawled toward his head. His hands took her by the waist and directed her until she was lying upon his chest backward, her bottom facing his head, her mouth at his cock. She bucked when his tongue hit her sex. “Oh!”

A gentle slap fell upon her very sore bottom. “Keep sucking, darling.”

She made a small whimpering sound as she opened her mouth to take in his length, unable to concentrate when his tongue slid between her outer lips. “Oh, Teddy!”

Another slap. “Focus, little dove.”

“How can I when you are distracting me so?”

Three slaps in the same spot made her yelp. “Naughty wife. Do as you’re told,” he commanded, gripping her hips firmly so she could not move and applying his tongue with vigor. She squirmed and slid her own mouth over his sex with equal vigor, her enthusiasm growing as the need built within her.

When his finger pressed inside her, she froze, listening.

“Go on, naughty girl!” he laughed.

“Oh!” She returned to her duty, hardly able to track what she did as her mouth plunged over his long, hard shaft while his finger plundered her sex. When another finger pressed into her back hole, she lost her mind completely, her head bobbing, so she took him deep into her throat before pulling off with a cry. Teddy had given a cry of his own and he continued his assault on her nether region—a finger thrusting into each hole, his tongue teasing her frantic sex until she nearly screamed from the sensation and the crashing climax that shook her to the very center of her being.

Wasting no time, Teddy slapped her backside again, slipping out from under her and pulling her to her hands and knees. In a moment he was plunging into her so deeply she thought she’d split in two and then his triumphant cry echoed through the room.

Chapter Seven

In retrospect, she should have recognized the gray mare tethered in the stable. Returning from a carriage drive the following day, her hand clasped firmly in Teddy’s, the idea of a guest came as a pleasant surprise, and she alighted from the carriage with a smile.

Standish greeted them at the door. “Lord Reddington is here to see you, my lord. He has been here all morning, insisting he wait for your arrival.”

Teddy’s face snapped closed. “Go upstairs to our bedroom, love. I will see to your brother-in-law.”

She nodded, mounting the steps slowly, her mind whirling. What could Reddington want? The last they had seen him had been that horrible night when Teddy had nearly choked him to death. Could it be he’d come for some kind of revenge? She paused at the top of the steps. If so, she must intervene.

But Teddy clearly hadn’t wanted her within listening range, or he would have suggested she wait in the parlor rather than sending her all the way up to their room. She clutched her fingers, paralyzed with indecision. The memory of Reddington’s apoplectic face when they’d last seen him spurred her to action. She took the stairs back down swiftly, and stood outside Teddy’s study, listening.

She heard nothing. Turning the handle slowly, like a thief entering a darkened house, she opened the door just a crack and peered in. What she saw made her throw the door open and bolt through it.

Teddy was on his knees, bleeding from his temple, a pistol pointed inches from the middle of his forehead. His expression was one of cold fury.

No.

Her heart beat in her throat. “What are you doing?” she gasped.

“Killing your husband, Phoebe. Demanding satisfaction.” There was something decidedly wrong about Reddington. He didn’t look angry, he looked crazed. His cheeks were flushed and he was sweating profusely, moisture running down his sideburns and wetting his collar and cravat.

She would have to somehow calm him. She took several tentative steps in his direction. “Killing him will not bring you satisfaction, Clayton,” she said, keeping her voice low and even.

His eyes shot up to her, surprised at her use of his first name.

She continued her slow approach. “What you want is me, isn’t it?”

Reddington’s gaze darted from her face to his intended target and back again. He shifted on his two feet and swiped at the sweat with the back of his sleeve. Then his arm shot out and grasped her by the hair. She gasped.

“Don’t touch her!” Teddy growled, but when he made to move, Reddington tapped his head with the muzzle of the gun.

She squirmed in his grasp, trying to alleviate the pain in her scalp. He pulled her closer and yanked her head back so her face gazed up at his.

“You chose this dandy over me?” Reddington sneered, giving Teddy a kick to the stomach.

“Leave him alone!” she screamed. “You were married,” she improvised desperately. “I wanted to stay, but you’re married to Maud, my own sister—how could I choose you?”

Reddington looked confused, his face overly expressive as it flashed to a childlike hope before the cruel coldness returned.

“I would have rather had you than a dozen Mauds! But it’s too late now,” his face grew redder, “now that you’ve been—you’ve been—
sullied
!” He emitted a spray of spit directed toward Teddy with the last word.

Teddy’s face was positively murderous.

“No,” she lied. “We keep separate bedrooms. I—I offered him his freedom with his mistresses. I only married him for the title.”

Reddington stared at her now, a pleased, calculating gleam in his eye.

She darted her eyes nervously at Teddy, hoping he understood her tactic.

“You’re hurting me,” she mewled softly, fluttering her lashes a bit.

He released his grip on her hair.

“Let him go, he’s nothing to me,” she pleaded. “Leave Fenton, I’ll go with you.”

“The hell you—”

The crack of Reddington striking Teddy on the side of his head with the muzzle of the gun cut off her husband’s protest.

“No!” she shrieked as Teddy fell onto his side, his eyelids fluttering, then closing.

Dear God, let him be alive. Please, let him be alive, still.

“That is not necessary, my lord! Please calm yourself and think about this situation. If you kill Fenton, you’ll be hanged for manslaughter.” Bile rose in her throat, but she kept her voice steady. She plucked at his sleeve. “I don’t want you hanged, Clayton,” she lied, making her eyes wide and innocent, trying to appear like the naïve girl she had been before he’d nearly ruined her. She slid her arm through his elbow. “Come. I’ll go back with you. Let’s leave here before he wakes.”

Reddington glanced doubtfully at Teddy, then at her. She again offered her best doe-eyed gaze. He frowned and extricated his arm from where she held his sleeve. A wave of disappointment and dread coursed through her, but then he gripped her upper arm with a bruising clasp and started toward the door, dragging her beside him.

Thank God—Teddy would be safe.

Reddington slid the pistol into his jacket pocket, then tilted the pocket so she could feel the hard muzzle pressing into her side. “Let’s go. If you say anything to the servants—anything at all—I’ll shoot you, and then I’ll come back and shoot him, too. Understand?”

She nodded, her corset constricting her ribs so tightly she felt lightheaded. He eased his grip on her arm, taking her elbow in a feigned gentlemanly gesture and leading her out through the house. The hard metal of the pistol pressed through the layers of her dress and corset, keeping her on edge as she imagined trying to make eye contact with Standish. But Standish was not there, and they let themselves out without an opportunity for her to signal to anyone about Teddy’s unconscious condition, or her predicament.