The Lady (The Dirty Heroes Collection Book 14) Read online

  “Oh God...” she whispered before tightly shutting her eyes again, but she still did not move from the position he’d put her in.

  Such a good girl.

  Henry’s cock was tightly pressed against the front of his trousers, straining the buttons of the flap, but he did not rush. He drank in the sight of her creamy pale skin, the tightly budded pink nipples pointing at his ceiling, the soft garden of dark gold curls adorning her mound, and the flushed swollen lips of her cunt between her spread thighs. She was dripping wet.

  Still determined to take this slowly, to enjoy himself, he put his hands on the outsides of her hips, curving his fingers while his thumbs pressed against the soft flesh inside her hip bones, slowly skimming his hands up her body to the sides of her breasts. She gasped, arching, shuddering when he cupped the soft mounds, sweeping his thumbs over her perky, pink nipples.

  “Oh, no...”

  “Oh, yes.” He lowered his mouth to her breast, grinning around her shriek before being utterly shocked when pain exploded on either side of his head. She’d boxed his ears!

  Lady Delilah Darling

  Oh no... What had she done?

  She had reacted without thinking, just as she had earlier when she’d run away from Lady Felton’s. But he’d put his mouth to her breast! Sucked her nipple into his mouth! And it... it had felt wonderful. For some reason, that had been far scarier than if he’d hurt her. So, she’d boxed his ears.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered from behind her fingers. “I’m so sorry...”

  “Oh, you’re going to be,” he said grimly.

  Before she could think, before she could react, Henry had turned and sat down on the bed beside her, dragging her over his lap. Delilah had not been in this position since she was a child, and she certainly had not been mostly naked at the time. She said mostly because her dress was now covering far more of her than it had been mere moments before. He’d split open the front of her dress, but the back was completely intact, which meant he had to flip up her skirts to bare her bottom.

  The first blow landed while she was still reorienting herself, dizzy from the sudden movement and distracted by the feeling of his hard thighs beneath her stomach and the fabric of his trousers rubbing against her bare skin. The sensations were so wildly new, so shocking, it was as though her mind had come to an abrupt halt, unable to truly process what was happening.

  Smack!

  The hard hand coming down on her upturned bottom jarred her back into her right mind, and she shrieked. He was spanking her? He couldn’t spank her!

  Smack!

  Apparently, unaware of what he could and could not do, Henry’s hand continued to rain down hard, stinging swats in a swift assault that took her breath away.

  “You.”

  Smack!

  “Do.”

  Smack!

  “Not.”

  Smack!

  “Hit.”

  Smack!

  “Me.”

  Smack!

  Each swat hurt more than the one before, as he peppered them all on the center of each of her cheeks. Delilah shrieked and writhed on his lap, pinned in place by his strong grip, hampered by the skirts flung over her head. The fabric muffled his voice, but his words were still clear. Part of her wanted to protest, he was hitting her, but she knew there was a difference between boxing someone’s ears and receiving a spanking. This was not even nearly as harsh as the thrashing Lady Felton had been intent on giving her, and it was far more deserved.

  SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

  He finished with four particularly hard swats, two to each cheek, which made her shriek and jerk against the pain. More tears were sliding down her cheeks, even though the spanking had finished.

  “As long as you choose to remain under my protection, your body is mine. Your nipples are mine to suck. Your arse is mine to punish. And I will touch you whenever and however I want.” Something touched her there, on her privates, sliding between the slick lips, then actually pushing inside of her. Delilah whined, high in the back of her throat, at the unexpected intrusion, but she did not move from her spot over his lap. Her muscles clenched around the invader, which she realized was his finger, and her mind went blurry again. The finger moved back and forth, pushing in and out of her, and for some reason, it seemed to help the fire in her body.

  Not just the painful one from the spanking, but the one from before, the one she did not understand and had no idea how to quench. The pain and pleasure were colliding, leaving her aching for more, while he touched her in a manner that should have been reserved for a husband.

  Ruined.

  That was what the ton called a fallen woman.

  He’s ruining me.

  And she did not want to tell him to stop.

  4

  Henry

  Finding the lady just as aroused, if not more so, after her spanking than she had been before was both a surprise and a delight. She really was perfect for him.

  Hanging limp over his lap, she did nothing more than wriggle and whimper as he pumped his finger back and forth in her virgin cunt, exploring the tight channel. When he dragged his thumb over the little bud of her clitty, she gasped, jerking forward, but did not protest. His cock pressed against her side, jerking every time she squirmed against it.

  There were two red splotches in the center of each of her creamy cheeks, bright enough, he knew the spanking had been felt, but not too harsh. After all, she had apologized even before being disciplined. He had not even truly been angry, but she needed to learn her limits now that she was under his protection. There was no sense in letting bad behavior slide at the beginning. That would only lead to confusion. She needed to know he was the Master, and she... well, she was his—in every sense of the word.

  With the hand that had pressed down on her lower back to help hold her in place, Henry cupped her arse cheek, deliberately placing his palm over the red blotch in the center and savoring the heat emanating from her chastised skin.

  The knock at the door made them both jump. She bucked on his lap, trying to straighten up. Henry dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her arse, gripping the spot he’d spanked while using his elbow to leverage her upper body back down again.

  “Do not move,” he ordered, thrusting a second finger into her sweet puss for emphasis.

  She made a muffled mewling noise, but her struggles stilled, her muscles squeezing his fingers tightly as she tensed.

  “You are mine, remember?” he began massaging her arse cheek, his two fingers moving back and forth inside of her, stretching her open. “Mine to touch. Mine to show off if I so desire. Now, be a good girl and be still.” Turning his head in the direction of his door, he raised his voice. “Come in.”

  Lady Delilah Darling

  Oh, goodness...

  Was it possible to die of shame?

  Because she felt on the precipice of such a death.

  Her entire world felt turned upside down. The difference between where she had been this morning, waking up in her cramped, smelly room to being in a man’s bedroom, freshly spanked, with his fingers inside of her, was laughably absurd. Her fall from grace had been as swift and complete as Lucifer’s.

  The sound of the door opening made her moan, and Henry’s grip on her tightened again in warning. As if she needed it. She felt utterly subjugated at his hands, and the fact she was over his lap, naked from the waist down, with his fingers invading her most intimate of spaces, while someone else came into the room, was proof of how utterly conquered she was. The skirts that had been flipped over her head covered her face, so she could not even turn to see who was looking at her privates—not that she truly wanted to, but if she could have, she did not think she would have been able to resist.

  Whoever it was, did not exclaim in shock upon seeing her half-naked and over Henry’s lap. They did not cry out in horror. There was a brief silence, then the rumble of a man’s voice.

  Exactly what he was saying escaped her because as he be
gan to talk, Henry began to twist his fingers inside of her, angling his hand so he could rub up against the spot at the front of her womanhood that shattered her concentration. The fires he’d kindled were turning into a roaring bonfire, spreading through her with all the fury of a raging tempest. She moved her hips, rubbing herself against his thigh, forgetting all about the witness, forgetting about everything except the wonderful feeling growing between her thighs—the wonderful, aching, throbbing, needy feeling overtaking her entire body.

  She panted underneath her skirts, growing hotter and hotter by the second. The sound of the door shutting barely impinged on her consciousness... but the removal of Henry’s fingers from her heated flesh certainly did. She cried out in protest when she had not before. She had been so close to... something. Something she needed. Something she craved, even if she did not know what.

  Ignoring her, he flipped her back onto the bed, so she landed on her back, her tattered dress beneath her. She caught a glimpse of his blazing eyes before his head dipped between her thighs, his mouth falling on her womanhood. Delilah shrieked in utter shock, but Henry ignored her. Strong fingers held her thighs wide apart as he spread her wide open and licked her. His tongue slid up the center of her flesh, and Delilah’s toes curled, her back arching in response. She reached down automatically, her fingers sliding into his hair and gripping, holding onto him for dear life as he began to feast.

  “Oh... oh, no... oh, no, please...” Her cries were interspersed with the wet sounds of his tongue, lapping at her moist flesh and his low hum of growling approval when she writhed for him.

  The precipice had arrived, and Delilah tumbled over its edge, falling into pleasure the like of which she’d never known. Any lingering pain from her spanking dissipated under the onslaught of ecstasy. She felt Henry suck hard, and an explosion burst inside of her. Hot bliss buffeted her from every side, wave after wave, crashing over her and submerging her in its embrace.

  She was just beginning to drift down from the incredible heights of rapture when Henry lifted his mouth, shifting to kneel between her thighs. Delilah’s eyes were only half-open, her lips parted, panting for breath, watching as he unbuttoned the flap of his trousers. This was it then, was it not? While she was ignorant of many nuances to the marital act, she knew what this meant. She had lived in the country most of her life and knew how stallions mounted mares when they were in season. Even though she had not been supposed to watch, she had snuck down once and saw the huge male parts of the stallions and heard how the mares squealed when they were pierced by them.

  Now, it was her turn... and her ruination would be complete. No nobleman would have her. Lady Felton would not want her back. Lord Greene would likely not take her in again, either. Not after she had run away from Felton House.

  Delilah no longer cared. The future she had always thought she would have was already lost to her, stolen from her, really, by Lady Felton and the twins. Under that lady’s auspices, her prospects had been increasingly bleak. None of her gentlemen admirers had dared the dragon’s ire or the twins’ dual attention, leaving her to fend for herself.

  Now, she was down to almost no choices at all, but she would rather be here than back at Felton House. She could only hope this seeming rescue did not turn as sour as her Season had, but even if it did, that was a problem for the future. In the here and now, her body was thrumming with satisfaction she’d never known possible, she was safe, and she was wanted.

  Still, fear trickled through her when the flap fell away, and Delilah was able to see a human male member for the first time in her life. It did not seem so very large on Henry’s frame, but he was quite a bit bigger than her, and when she thought about him fitting it inside of her... but it was what he wanted. And he had made her feel so very good.

  Bending over her again, he pressed his lips to hers, and she felt something hot and hard nudging at the entrance to her body where his fingers had just been. She felt exquisitely sensitive there in the aftermath of her pleasure. Moaning against his lips when she felt his manhood sliding up and down in her slickness. It stirred the sensations all over again, sending little tingles of reawakening passion through her. This was not so bad.

  He nestled into place, then thrust forward. Delilah cried out, the sound muffled by his lips, as her body stretched to receive him. He was much larger than his fingers had been and not nearly as comfortable, despite how soft and wet she was. She squirmed beneath him, hands pushing at his chest, but he was so much larger and did not even budge. Instead, he groaned, and thrust again, sliding deeper inside, invading her. It did not hurt exactly, but it did not feel good, either.

  There was something inside of her, where nothing had been before, and it felt so very odd.

  She stilled beneath him, panting for breath. If this was what he wanted, she would give it to him. She already owed him so much. The discomfort was not unbearable, after all. She could endure for his pleasure since he had already bestowed hers.

  One more thrust and she could feel his hard body pressing against her thighs, the swollen lips of her womanhood stretched around his rod, then he went still, pulling his lips away from hers and bending his head. Hot breath panted against her neck, and his beard tickled her skin. She shuddered, muscles instinctively clenching around him. It was becoming less uncomfortable. This was not so bad.

  The Tramp

  Bloody hell, she felt good. He savored the sensation of being buried inside of her.

  Finally.

  Logically, he knew her cunt wasn’t any better than any other, but knowing it was hers and not a replacement he was pretending was hers made all the difference. It filled the sense of incompleteness that had been gnawing at him every night when he’d buried himself in another woman. He had been starting to worry he was touched in the head. He did not know why this one woman affected him so, but he could not deny the stark truth when it was shoved in front of his face. Or, more correctly, when he shoved his cock into it.

  Unlike the tarts he usually tupped, she clearly had no idea what she was supposed to do, which amused him. He could feel her hesitancy and squirming discomfort. Yet she bit her lip, even without the instruction to lie back and think of England. Henry had dabbled with a noble lady a time or two and knew how little they were told about the pleasures of the flesh. His little lady knew even less. She was prepared to endure for him and for no other reason.

  She was perfection. And she deserved a reward.

  Turning his head into the sweetly-scented crook of her neck, he laid his lips gently on her fluttering pulse, rocking his hips, so he ground against her sensitive clit. She whimpered, tightening around him. Sucking on her soft skin, he feathered kisses down the column of her throat to her collarbone and over her shoulders, working his cock back and forth inside of her with small thrusts that allowed her more time to adjust. It was sweet torture, but entirely worth it when he felt her beginning to stir beneath him, to respond with pleasure.

  Still holding tightly to the reins of his passion, he lengthened his thrusts, groaning with pleasure as he filled her with long, sure strokes of his cock.

  “Oh...” She gasped and wriggled, her hands sliding over the front of his shirt. When he looked, her eyes were shut again, her head tossing back and forth. Small wrinkles crossed her brow as if she were puzzled by what was happening to her. “Oh... Oh, my...”

  “Good girl,” he crooned, leaning to the side, so he could rest his weight on one elbow and slide his other hand down between their bodies. He regretted that his shirt blocked his view of the proceedings, but he rather liked the dichotomy of her being almost completely naked while he was almost completely clothed. Besides, he was not going to stop to undress now. “Good girl with a sweet pussy, taking her first cock.”

  She gasped when his fingers found her clit, her hips jerking upward, her cunt swallowing his cock and squeezing as if she meant to strangle the appendage. It felt fucking fantastic.

  “Oh, my!”

  As amusing as her virginal
utterings were, Henry preferred a lustier vocabulary in bed.

  “Tell me this is my pussy.”

  “What?” Her hazel eyes flew open, meeting his, full of confusion and desire.

  “Your pussy,” he rubbed his fingers up and down her slit, on either side of where his cock was splitting her open, halting his thrusts and waiting for her to do as he said. “Tell me that your sweet little pussy is mine.”

  Lady Delilah Darling

  Her womanhood, that’s what he was talking about. Pussy was a name for her private area. She had heard such vulgar countenances, but it had been long ago, an overhead conversation between two of the stableboys.

  She should be horrified. Not just by the crassness of his demand, but by his claim of ownership over her body. Instead, a wave of heat flowed through her, making her hotter, wetter—even though she did not understand why. With his weight pressing down and his body inside of hers, she felt owned. Claimed. But it did not feel like tyranny. It felt like safety. Like she was wanted. Which was everything she needed.

  Still, the words were surprisingly hard to say, and she could feel her cheeks turning bright with embarrassment as she stammered over them.

  “My... my... p-p-pussy is, um, yours.”

  A hard pinch between her legs made her cry out as pain shot through her. Delicious pain. Exquisite pain. It sizzled along her body, spiking through her growing pleasure and enhancing it. The little bud of flesh throbbed between his fingers, pushing her closer to another climax of sensation.

  “Like you mean it, pet.” His gaze burned, holding her enthralled. “This is my pussy.”

  “It is your pussy,” she whispered. The pussy in question spasmed.

  “You are mine.” The avarice in his eyes might have made her take a step back at any other time, but now, she was drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. She did not care if she was burned. The light was as glorious as the growing sensation between her legs, spiraling higher with every circling stroke of his fingers.