Eternally Seduced(120)

"Are you absolutely sure you will be safe with this man, Ms. Ashton?" He  couldn't help trying one last time, the way his dick was protesting  inside his pants making him say the words as Rathe helped her out of the  seat.

Mary got to her feet, her legs still shaking under her. She looked at  the professor and he wasn't as gentle as he used to look anymore. Now,  he simply looked pissed off, like a devious hunter cheated of his prey.

Rathe wrapped his arm around her waist, both an anchor and a chain. It  kept her grounded, but it kept her locked to his side, too. She didn't  want to be this close to him, but right now she couldn't figure out how  to get away, with the way her body was trembling so badly just because  of his proximity.

"Answer him, little pearl."

Her head went up, the words of endearment shocking her. When their eyes  met, she was even more surprised at the look on his face, like he was  stunned by his own words, too. She heard herself saying, "I'm safe."

Rathe did not let her or the professor speak any more after that. With a  curt nod at the other man, he turned around to leave, taking Mary with  him. They didn't speak as Rathe led the way out. It was obvious he was  itching to leave but was forcing himself to accommodate her slower pace  as she hobbled with her crutches.

"W-why are you in a hurry?" His obvious impatience was getting to her,  making Mary stammer. Was she being a nuisance to him? Her twisted ankle,  according to the school nurse, would take three more days to heal.

"Be thankful I'm hurrying," he bit out without looking at her. "It means  I'm still managing to control myself and not take you in the nearest  corner I can hide you in."

She gasped, unable to believe that he really did mean what he said. He  was the Duke of Flanders. He wasn't supposed to be this … this  uncivilized. And how depraved she was, Mary thought with a sick feeling  in her stomach. She should be aghast and disgusted by his primitive  side, but instead she was even more sensitive and wetter now, her body  reacting to his words.

They reached his car, which stunned her somewhat because it was not a  limousine but rather a conservative looking Rolls Royce. The chauffeur  was also not like Bob, Staffan's man, who was the only other  billionaire's chauffeur she knew. Although Rathe's driver was just as  imposing in his build, he was also more distinguished looking than the  rock star's right-hand man, with his silvery hair and crinkling eyes.

He tipped his hat to her in greeting before looking at Rathe. "Where to, Your Grace?"

Mary heard Rathe instructing the driver to take them to her university  and then she was being ushered in, her crutches stowed away in the  trunk. She shivered at the almost icy blast of the car's  air-conditioning, but the coldness was instantly swept away when Rathe  pulled her towards him without warning the moment the door closed behind  them.

And then he was kissing her.

It was a rough and sensual kiss, a no-holds-barred and take-no-prisoners  kind of kiss. It left her breathless and panting for more, her hands  moving up on his chest before settling on his shoulders so she could  cling to him as her body fell against his hardness.

His kiss was relentless in its passion and carnality, making Mary emit  the most embarrassingly raw sounds. She couldn't believe it really was  her, panting so loudly, like a wordless plea for him to never stop  kissing her.

"You taste so beautifully sweet." His voice was harsh and ragged at the  same time, and then he was kissing her again, like he couldn't help it.

She wanted to answer him, wanted to tell him his mouth tasted like  forbidden fruit. This was wrong. She couldn't explain why right now  –   her mind had stopped working ages ago  –  but she just knew it was.

Mary felt his hands moving, shaping her curves almost reverently, and  the way he touched her made Mary writhe and move closer to him. She  moaned against his lips when her body pressed fully against his, her  breasts flattening against his chest even as her nipples puckered into  life.

He groaned. She moaned. They kissed.

His hands moved again, this time inwards, towards her straining breasts.  And then he was cupping them, and it felt so agonizingly right Mary let  go of the last of her worries and inhibitions. Did the driver know what  was happening behind his back? Could people outside see through the  windows? The answers to the questions didn't matter. All that was  important was that she was able to have more of his kisses, of his  touch, of his passion.         

     



 

When he finally let go of her mouth, it was to kiss his way down to her  neck, sucking hungrily but stopping before he could leave a mark on her  swan-like neck. "Mary," he growled as he moved back up, licking her ear.

She shuddered and clung to him harder. "Please, please." She didn't know  what she was begging him for, the way his tongue was moving against her  ear making Mary even more vulnerable to her own desires.

"Say my name," he urged her.

"Rathe."

She had moaned it out so beautifully he nearly came at just the sound of  it. His need for her was impossible and undeniable in its strength but  he fought to conquer it, not wanting to let his desires control him  because that wasn't part of the bloody plan. Mary was going to be a part  of his life. That was no longer in question. But he was damned if he  was going to let Mary be his life.

With an effort that nearly cost him, Rathe managed to rein in his  desires and he refocused on giving Mary what she wanted, what she was  silently and unconsciously begging him for.

He pushed her down on the seat, knowing that his long-time driver,  Arthur, would never deign to look at them. But even so, he sought to  shield her from the other man's gaze, arranging for her to lie on the  side while he lay in front of her, making sure that all the driver would  see was his back.

Her eyes were wide as she gazed at him, and they widened even more, her  lips parting in obvious surprise as she felt him pulling the high but  loose neckline of her dress down until her lace-covered breasts popped  free.

Her underwear was simple but sexy. A shy and conservative girl Mary was,  but her choice of lingerie revealed her true passionate nature. It was  sexy as hell, knowing that he was likely the only man to be aware of her  secret.

And it was a secret he intended to keep to himself for as long as he needed.

Mary squirmed, biting her lip again to prevent herself from crying out  with pleasure when she felt his fingers pulling the cups of her bra  down. Her breasts spilled out and she could feel herself blushing all  over. "They're too big," she whispered in shameful apology.

"I know," he growled as he cupped them again, possessively. "And I'm  bloody thankful for it." He suited actions to words right after, bending  down to plump one breast and feed its tip to his mouth. Her rosy nipple  tasted as good as it looked, and the way she shuddered and clung to him  made it even sweeter. He sucked harder and harder, and soon she was  straining against him, pushing her nipple further into his mouth.

Just a few more minutes and they would reach her place, and knowing  this, he was unable to prolong his foreplay like he wanted to. Rathe  needed her to experience the pleasure he could give her now, needed to  make sure she understood completely that kind of pleasure was only  something she could feel with him.

As he moved to suckle her other breast, he used his other hand to caress  its way down her folds, his palm skimming her skin before his fingers  pulled her panties away from her skin and tore it apart.

She gasped and then she gasped again, her head falling back as he bit her nipple the same time he drove one finger inside her.

"Rathe!"

He responded by sucking on her nipple again, moving his finger inside  her with strokes chosen to tantalize her and bring Mary closer to her  orgasm.

"Rathe." She was sobbing the word out.

She was close, so bloody close, and it was making him feel like he was  about to bloody come in his pants as well. He thrust his finger into her  faster and harder, and she sobbed out his name again, chanting it over  and over.

It was the poem coming true, and when he ground his thumb against her  clit the same time he thrust his finger back inside her, she shattered  all around him, his name still a sobbed out chant coming from her lips.

Mary couldn't even open her eyes as she felt Rathe wiping her dry and,  after, arranging her clothes before settling her on his lap. His heart  beat hard against her chest, but its rhythm to her ears was mysterious,  its lyrics unfathomable for now.

She couldn't believe she had given herself just like that to him. She  should even be thankful that he had not cared to take her virginity in  the backseat of his car and turn her into a cliché. Because if he had  wanted to do so, she would have let him.

She wanted it  –  him  –  that much and it was terrifying, like her stepfather's words about her wanton soul becoming true.