My dear readers, I'm SO sorry I haven't updated in...oh goodness, 2 months! Lots of happenings in my life, good and bad, but that's hardly an excuse. I'm working on chapter 5 of Beauty Remastered as hard as I possibly can, while attempting and reattempting to start Piper, which is Joey and Danny's story =) Wish me luck, my loves. I promise, Chapter 5 will be super exciting and wonderful and out soon! Cross my heart. For everybody who commented and voted on the earlier chapters, you are the best ever, and I adore all of you! And thank you for the encouragement, because it's what keeps me going at times. I'd love to hear what you think of Chapter 4...hint hint. <3
-Almostluver
***
Scarlet awoke alone in a cold, dark, unfamiliar room. She reached down to pull the covers up from where they had been shoved down by her feet and realized that her hands were no longer bound. Donovan must have released her before he left the room. Memories raced toward her.
She glanced around, blushing. The heavy curtains were drawn, so the room was still too dark to really study, but she could just make out shadows of furniture in the gloom beyond the bed. There were no lights or candles, and any illumination would have to come from the fireplace once it was lit. What was it with her husband and darkness? She knew he lived in it, but that didn't mean she had to!
At the thought of her absent husband, she shuddered and drew the blanket up to her chin. Last night, the bastard had...she didn't want to think about what he'd done. But the thoughts came anyway.
Thoughts about how, hours after that one time, she'd finally drifted into a fitful, erotically dream-filled sleep -- dreams laced with touches and mouths, tongues and panting breaths -- only to have him wake her with his teeth and tongue teasing her breasts, while his fingers massaged her mound. Again, he'd brought her to the brink, this time let her teeter forever at the absolute edge before stopping to take care of his own needs. The third time, she had sobbed when he at last took his pleasure-giving hands and mouth away. By the time he came at her a fourth time, she was exhausted and too worked up to do more than lie there and accept him. He didn't even let her get close before he stopped and went back to his side of the bed. Perhaps he knew she wouldn't last long.
Scarlet's eyes filled at the memory of how the third time, she'd begged him incoherently through the gag, the promises she'd made to be good. To obey. To do anything and everything he wanted, if he would just let her come. He'd ignored her completely, silently working her up and up, knowing exactly when to stop.
Her tired, aroused body ached from all the memories. He'd been undeniably gentle with her, hadn't even penetrated her with a single long, tapered finger, but all the aches he left unfulfilled had expanded and meshed together and she *needed* to sate it.
Her blush intensified as her hand slid below the covers to hover above her warm, deprived core. She'd only done this once before, in all her eighteen years. And it hadn't been with a set, illicit agenda; she had simply explored, years ago. Now, though, she was going to actually *do* something.
For a moment, she faltered; but her entire body throbbed, as if insisting she continue. Scarlet slowly lowered her hand to slide along her lips. They were slick with her arousal. Her shaking index finger penetrated the damp folds and bumped across her clitoris. She yelped at the burst of pleasure that speared through her belly to join the other stored tendrils he had ignited the night before.
She remembered him focusing his long, agile tongue there for ages, it seemed, the third time. She touched herself there again, biting her lip at the sensations. Her inexperienced touch was less earth shattering than Donovan's, but she could still bring herself to that release. She rubbed that small button gently, and then harder and faster when that wasn't enough. Her hips moved unconsciously, humping against her hand.
Without even thinking about it, she raised her free hand to her bare breasts and pinched her tight nipples gently. A low moan slipped out as the dual feelings took her higher, closer to that release.
And for one glorious moment, she just barely reached it.
"Having fun?" A deep voice from the side of the bed asked suddenly.
Scarlet shrieked and pulled her hands away guiltily. "I-I didn't hear you come in."
He smirked, his teeth bright in the shadows. "I'm not surprised. You were otherwise occupied."
Her anger came back at his soft, sarcastic tone. She pulled the covers around her and scooted to the far side of the bed. God, he was so unfair! So frustrating. Why wouldn't he just let her finish? The sick sadistic ass.
"I just came to let you know that I've hired a seamstress to make you a new wardrobe, seeing as how most of your clothes were unfit. She will be here in two hours."
"I can't go into town to buy some? I'm sure it will be less expensive."
He turned and sauntered to the door. "No, I think not. Money is no object, Annabelle."
That confirmed her suspicion that he was keeping her here. Fear made her pulse race. She was likely to never see anybody other than her husband and the butler again! This wasn't her home; it was a prison.
Her arousal had cooled to a painful almost nothing. She still needed that damn release, but after his interruption, there was no chance in hell she'd try again. For all she knew, Donovan was probably lurking in the hallway outside, just waiting for her to begin again. Was this a part of his 'punishment'? Not letting her come unless he wanted her to? Did the arrogant bastard honestly think he could control her body like that?
Unfortunately, Scarlet held back a sob and rolled to bury her face in the pillow, he *could*.
***
Dominic paced his room at the top of the house, raking his long fingers through his hair repeatedly. Thoughts of Annabelle whirled through his mind. The feel of her soft skin beneath his fingertips. The way her hair smelled -- subtle and spicy, like nutmeg. The soft moans and cries when he licked a path up her stomach. The sweet taste of her skin as he teased at her breasts and down to...
"Fuck!" Donovan collapsed into an armchair in front of the unlit fireplace. Last night had been torture. He wanted so badly to let her go over that edge, to let her tumble with a scream. Maybe her voice would have gone hoarse while she screamed, like it did in the study. Maybe she would have even screamed his name. Just the thought of his name on her luscious bruised lips was enough to turn him to stone.
He palmed his hardening member, groaning with frustration. He'd already gotten himself off twice today -- once when he woke up with Annabelle sleeping fitfully beside him, and not ten minutes ago after he'd accidentally interrupted her pleasuring himself. Added to the three times yesterday, he was well on his way to setting a week's record. Before that, though, he might actually wear himself out. Even if he did, he knew he'd still want her.
He reached to the small table beside his chair and picked up a book. Opening it, his fingers danced across the Braille, effortlessly reading page after page, but he paid no attention to the words his sensitive hands found. His mind instead brought back the way his fingertips had read her body, and coaxed those damnable sounds from her.
Damn her. He hadn't expected to be this attracted to his wife, even after all that time in the past. In all honesty, he hadn't even expected to go as far with her as he did. Their marriage would have been just that, with no feelings or intimacy involved. But after that first kiss...all hell had broken loose.
His body tightened even more when he remembered her warm, frantic rubbing against his leg. He was harder now, after everything they'd done, than he had ever been in his life. He cursed himself for not simply taking her in the study, when he had the chance -- when his hard body was crushed between her dewy thighs, when he felt her wet heat surging against his. He decision not to take her against the wall seemed stupid now. And the promise he'd made would be almost impossible to keep.
Surging to his feet, he began pacing again, refusing to allow his hands anywhere near his pulsing erection. This was ridiculous! He, as a husband, had a right to her body. But now that she knew he couldn't have it without her consent, that right was obsolete. A quiet knock on the closed door pulled him from his angry thoughts and he pulled it open quickly.
