The Dove Formatted Read online

  But, he’d trained her to do other things … like accept the crash of his palm against her arse or take the length of his cock down her throat. He’d taught her to kneel and to arch her back into that precise curve that let his cock in as deep as it would go. His thumb caressed the pads of his fingers in anticipation of reminding her, of having her in his hands once again … his to control, to rule, to bend and break.

  She left the room on swift feet, descending from the dais and making a beeline toward a door Adam assumed led into an adjoining room. He clenched his teeth when the panel slid closed behind her, blocking her from view.

  As the others took their seats and waited for the next performance to begin, he quietly made his exit. No one noticed him slip out, their attention remaining on the dais and the beautiful opera singer resuming her place in the spotlight for an encore. A footman went to fetch his greatcoat while he stood in the townhome’s vestibule and tried not to tap his foot impatiently against the floor as the butler attempted not to let on that he observed Adam from the corner of his eye. If it wasn’t his hair earning him such perusal, then it was his reputation. Considering that word of his ruination of Daphne was still making the rounds in London, he assumed it must be the latter.

  Once he’d been given his things, he stepped out onto the front stairs. Despite the frigid chill in the air, he had opted to walk to and from the musicale. It would serve well to clear his head now.

  Reaching into the inner breast pocket of his greatcoat, he took hold of the slim cigarillo case and matchbook he had stashed there. The fragrant smoke curled along with his breath on the night air as he lit it, then shook the match between his fingers to put out the little flame. He took the stairs two at a time to the street, clenching the cheroot between his teeth. He’d picked up the habit while on his Grand Tour in Spain, enjoying the tobacco in this form as opposed to the disgusting practice of taking pinches of snuff. The smell soothed him as much as the taste and the slight tingle in his veins after a few puffs … though nothing could take the edge off completely now that he’d seen her.

  His little dove.

  Taking a long drag of the cigarillo, he attempted to shift his thoughts someplace else. He had a plan, and it did not include going after her like some lovesick fool chasing a bitch in heat. He would not give in to the impatience that the sight of her had inspired in him. He was stronger than that, always in control. Always.

  A sudden awareness pricked the back of his neck and had him glancing back over his shoulder. His teeth clenched around the cheroot, severing it completely. The burning tip fell to the ground at his feet, forgotten, as he set eyes on a figure in a navy-blue redingote. It matched the feathers pinned in her elaborate coiffure, and the gown he knew she wore underneath.

  It was her. He recognized her even at a distance, even from behind with her lithe body shrouded in that heavy coat. The lightness of her steps gave her away, as well as the sway of her hips and the tilt of her head. She moved swiftly, white puffs of steam huffing over her head as if from an engine. Truly, she practically ran down the sidewalk, seeming to be in a hurry. To get away from him, or to get out of the cold, he wondered?

  The prickle he’d felt when she had stepped onto the street grew into a full-fledged tingle that raced down his spine and settled in his middle, the heat spreading to his groin. Plucking the other end of the destroyed cheroot from between his lips and tossing it aside, he stomped on the glowing end to put it out, releasing a sound that was half groan, half growl.

  “Fucking hell,” he grumbled, his legs already moving him toward her, his entire body honing itself for the chase, the fight, the inevitable surrender. “Bloody fucking shite … goddamn it.”

  He had thought himself stronger than this, but apparently, three months of starvation had proved his undoing. The meal he wanted was within reach, and the beast in him roared, baring its fangs, mouth watering. His belly clenched and quivered, the urge to devour overcoming all good sense. Muttering the oaths at himself did not help. Nothing would, save getting his hands on her and expelling every ounce of his pent-up lust. The space between them began to close, his swift strides helping him overtake her in a matter of moments.

  Her breath quickened—he could both hear and see it. Then, the flash of her face over one shoulder, the widening of her eyes and parting of her lips. A strangled cry emitted from her throat, speeding his pulse and quickening the dull throb in his breeches. He was unbearably hard now, his tip painfully abraded by the fabric of his clothes, beads of wetness already gathering at the slit. His bollocks drew up tight against his body when her scent wafted up his nostrils, his abdominal muscles clenching and hardening with the maddening desire driving him. Impulse ruled his every move, all his carefully laid plans forgotten as he grinned at her, flashing his teeth, letting her see his intent before he’d even laid a hand on her.

  “No,” she whispered, the desperate sound carrying to him on the light evening breeze.

  Yes, he thought, the word lodged in his chest, trapped there by the breath he held. Anticipation made his blood sing in his veins as he drew close enough to see the way moonlight made her hair gleam like polished cherry wood, the way her dilated pupils ate away the blue of her irises until her eyes almost appeared black.

  Words failed him, but then, he did not need to speak for her to know why he was here, what he wanted from her. He spotted an opening between houses, a dark slit that would make them invisible to anyone on the street. Taking hold of the back of her neck, he steered her to the right, aiming her toward the alley. She turned on him, her nails raking against his face just before the darkness swallowed them up.

  He took hold of her waist, propelling her up against the side of the building and trapping her with his own body, bracing his legs on either side of hers to keep her from kicking. Her palm slammed against his jaw, the aggravating burst of discomfort the blow caused only making his cock strain harder toward her. He was surprised his placket didn’t burst under the strain, sending buttons skittering across the ground.

  Taking hold of one wrist, he suffered yet another blow and the scratch of her nails over his cheek. With a growl, he captured the other arm and pinned them both against the stone wall. The sparse moonlight allowed him to witness the conflicting fear and desire written in her parted lips and widened eyes. Though he didn’t need the benefit of sight to sense it. He heard it in her rapid, panting breath, felt it in the rise and fall of her breasts as he melded his body against hers from chest to knee.

  Pressing his face into the curve of her neck and trailing his nose along her skin, taking his first real scent of her, he released his breath on a primal growl, the fragrance ramping his lust to its limit.

  “Now, now,” he whispered, chuckling against her skin when she shuddered. “Is that any way to greet an old friend, little dove?”

  She writhed and twisted in his hold, her pelvis bumping his and her breasts teasing his chest as she tried to fight her way out of his hold. He clenched his teeth and groaned, his cock practically weeping in response to the stimulation. Bucking his hips at her, he let her feel him, nestling the underside of his shaft against her mound.

  “Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten how much I love it when you fight me?” he murmured, rasping his lips and the stubble on his chin against her smooth throat, tracing a path to her ear.

  “Damn you to Hell,” she growled, tilting her head to meet his gaze.

  If eyes were weapons, he would be dead on the spot, the venom in her glare undisguised. Meanwhile, her body had begun to give in, her tension melting away by degrees.

  “Only if I can take you with me,” he quipped with a smile.

  Her nostrils flared, and she tried again to twist away from him, this effort downright halfhearted compared to her earlier one.

  “Damn you, release me,” she begged, turning her head so she was no longer looking directly at him. “I will scream.”

  Biting the point of her chin, he chuckled. “Promise?”

&n
bsp; Her growl of frustration was smothered by his open mouth covering hers, his tongue dipping inside. She tasted like champagne and some sort of creamy dessert, the flavors lingering just over her own familiar tang. His hips surged over and over, his cock rubbing against her mons through their clothes.

  “Fuck,” he muttered against her open mouth, shuddering as he fought not to spend in his breeches like some green boy. “I forgot how good you taste.”

  Her only response was a whimper, her resistance fading away as raw desire took its place. Her body arched into his, like that of a marionette controlled by the strings of its handler. Against her will, it bent to his, coming alive at his fingertips. Her nipples pebbled against his palms when he cupped her breasts, and she quivered when he dragged his fingers lower, over her ribs and the nip of her waist. Then, her hips filled his grasp, and he spread his fingers to squeeze her buttocks, moving one of his legs to wedge between hers. Lifting her, he pulled her down onto his thigh, bending his knee to keep her balanced. They moaned in unison—her likely from the pleasure of her mons being so tightly compressed against him, Adam from the realization that she wore nothing under her gown. Her coat had parted, so only the silk of her gown separated them.

  “Wicked little dove,” he rasped in her ear, giving her hips another squeeze and rocking her against his leg.

  She choked on a moan, its strained sound telling him she hovered right on the edge of giving in, of losing the fight with her own desires.

  “You couldn’t possibly have gone without proper undergarments for my sake, did you?” he teased.

  A huff of annoyance tickled his jaw, and then she gasped when he surged her against his thigh again, dragging her mons over the hard muscle.

  “No-oh!”

  Her denial broke off on a sharp cry when he tightened his hold on her, his fingers digging into her arse and pulling her against him, harder and harder with each stroke. With a weak moan, she slumped, her head falling onto his shoulder and her arms going limp as she rode his thigh. Seeming heedless to her own actions, she undulated against him, her legs tightening around his hips. The heat emanating from her cunt scorched him through his breeches, the fabric between them going slightly damp.

  “That’s it,” he crooned, burying his nose in her hair and taking in her scent, never ceasing to move her back and forth on his leg like a rag doll. “Take your pleasure from me … I know it feels good. You’re so hot and wet for me.”

  Another sound came from her, this time one of surrender when she shuddered, her hips bucking against him a few more times as she reached her end. He held her against him, going still so she could recover, soothing his hands over her hips, then up and down her back. He kissed the top of her head and murmured to her until her breathing became even, until she went still against him, her body tensing once more.

  He knew it the moment the fight returned to her, acting before she could come completely back to her senses. Taking her throat in one hand, he pressed his fingers against the twin veins humming with her pulse, compressing them just enough to tease her. Even in the dim lighting, he saw the spark in her eyes, the glittering depths speaking of her desires—the ones she kept hidden away, the ones that proved as dark and filthy as his own.

  With his opposite hand, he fumbled with his fall, ripping one of the buttons completely loose in his haste to free his cock and bury it inside her. His hand shook with the force of his need, several urges slamming into him at once. He wanted to shove her to her knees and force his prick between her lips. He wanted to bend her over, spread her buttocks and penetrate that tight, hot little arse. He wanted her cunt wrapped around him tighter than a fist. He wanted it all at once, but since that was impossible, he settled on taking her cunt. The other things he had been fantasizing about would require walls around them and a bed to throw her down on.

  Wrapping a hand around his erection, he gave it a few strokes, hissing between clenched teeth in agony. She’d made him so hard, it was painful, and even his own hand wouldn’t have done. It was a damn good thing he hadn’t kept walking, instead deciding to pursue her down the street. Only one thing would ease this sort of hunger.

  She closed her eyes as he snatched up her gown, baring her slender legs, the black lace edges of her stockings, and the warm honeypot between her thighs. Still holding her neck with one hand, he used the other to open her, lifting one leg and bending it at the knee to spread her. The scent of her arousal flooded his senses, and the sight of her inner thighs, slick with wetness, had him running his tongue over his teeth, fighting back the urge to drop to his knees and taste her, to sink his teeth into that tender flesh. Instead, he surged his hips, aiming the tip of his cock between her legs. She whimpered when he came against her entrance, the little hole as tight as it had been the first time he’d had her.

  He squeezed her thigh and spread her open wider, until the tendon at the juncture of her hip and thigh stretched taut. Then, he impaled her with one brutal thrust, tightening his hold on her throat at the same time. She cried out, the sharp sound echoing down the alley, lost somewhere in the dark abyss. He paused, only halfway inside, her snug opening slowly stretching to accommodate him. Despite her wetness, it had been too long since she’d taken him, his cock big enough to split her in two if he wasn’t careful.

  However, the evidence that no other man had been where he was now made that difficult. It made him mad with lust and possession and a thousand other feelings he could not name.

  “No one else has fucked you, have they?” he growled, pressing his lips to her cheek and kissing his way to her ear. “Have they, little dove?”

  She gasped again when he withdrew until only his tip remained inside, then thrust in again, this time giving her almost his entire length. A shudder rocked her, and then another, and the beginnings of another climax seemed to stir deep inside her, pulling at his cock with deep spasms.

  “Answer me,” he growled, his voice tinged with a warning she would heed unless she wanted to be taken over his knee. “Tell me what I want to hear. How many men have had this delicious little cunt wrapped around them?”

  She whimpered, and the hot splash of her tears heated his knuckles, their salty taste dancing on his tongue as he kissed his way toward her mouth.

  “N-no one,” she moaned against his mouth.

  He slammed into her again, this time seating himself to the hilt. She was torn open for him, pulsating and dripping her desire all over his bollocks, her shudders increasing until she shook like a leaf lashed by a gust of wind.

  “You know what I want to hear,” he panted between thrusts, his body battering her against the stone wall, his fingers pressing her throat just enough to keep her in place, to remind her of how exquisitely he could make her climax if she remained docile and let him use her. “Say it, little dove … say what you know I need to hear.”

  “Adam!”

  Her shrill, passion-roughened voice wrapped around his name was his undoing. With a rough groan, he pressed her tighter against the wall, shoving his hips at her hard and fast.

  “Again,” he rasped as he fucked her. “Tell me again, who’s the only man to have had you.”

  “Adam,” she whispered weakly. “Adam … Adam.”

  He compressed her neck veins at the right moment, just when she drew in a sharp breath, her back going tight as a bowstring, her body tensing against his just before she spent. Her sheath tightened around him, drawing him in deeper, throbbing around him in powerful spasms that grew stronger the harder he pressed. Her pulse throbbed against his fingertips at the same cadence that her cunt squeezed him, bringing him to his own end.

  Releasing her neck, he pumped into her one last time before pulling away, muttering curses under his breath while jerking his cock and spilling all over the ground at their feet. She stood pressed against the wall, her gown’s hem having fallen to the ground, eyes wide as she tried to catch her breath, watching as he groaned and spewed his seed. Despite the countless hours he’d spent frigging himself over
the past three months, he came for what seemed like several minutes, the volume of mettle that left him alarming considering how much of it he’d spilled in his washroom back at Dunnottar.

  It hadn’t been enough … it never would have been. He’d needed this—needed her.

  Bracing himself on the wall with one hand, he stared up at her while closing his fall with the other. Despite the missing button, he was adequately covered as he straightened, looking her over from head to toe. She looked exactly the way he preferred her—hair mussed from his handling, lips swollen from his kiss, eyes wide and glistening, cheeks flushed. He wondered if she had any idea the carnal picture she made, how beautiful she was when glowing with lust and desire. Like any other beautiful thing, he wanted to touch her, own her, possess her. He’d come to London to do just that, so he wouldn’t count his loss of control as defeat.

  Avoiding his gaze, she raised her chin, tried to hide herself from him with a haughty display of arrogance. It only made him want to fuck her again, to break her and remind her that her pretenses didn’t work on him.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, her words coming out on a weary sigh.

  Glancing down at the mess he’d made at her feet, he laughed. “I should think that was plainly obvious.”

  She leveled a murderous gaze at him. “I meant, why are you here?”

  Reaching out to stroke her cheek, he inclined his head. Could she truly not know?

  “I came for you, little dove.”

  She reared away from his touch as if he’d burned her, slapping his hand to prevent him from doing it again. “Our business is concluded. You got what you wanted from me, and I received my compensation.”

  “Except, I didn’t get what I wanted,” he murmured, edging closer, forcing her back against the wall.

  Panic flared in her eyes, and he could see the sound she held in her throat, the whimper she swallowed, her throat convulsing and her mouth pinching closed. He strummed his knuckles over the swell of one breast, teasing her nipple into a stiff point.