a caress. “You are a very good man, Sebastian. A very unusual one, I think.”
He hummed his gratitude and leaned more heavily against the column at his side. Not being able to touch her was proving difficult.
“Do you want to touch me very badly, Sebastian? Even here in front of all of these prying noblemen?” Of course she had noticed he was struggling, and the wicked woman was enjoying it. The realization that she could taunt him here in a crowded room as easily as she could toy with him in an empty library or a deserted hallway brought a mischievous smile to her face. “Do you want your lips on me again, you greedy boy?” Her voice was soft, her expression light and cheerful. If anyone glimpsed them talking, it would appear they were discussing something of little importance, the violinist or the membrillo that had been served after supper.
She rubbed the tip of her finger along her lower lip, and he practically groaned. She glanced down at his firming cock. “That’s it, my sweet Sebastian. So responsive. So giving.” She let her hand slip away from her lips and stared into his eyes.
“I am yours, Anna,” he said quietly. “In every possible way a man can offer himself to a woman, I offer myself to you. I submit my body into your keeping.”
“I will treasure the gift of your submission, Sebastian.” She was no longer toying with him. “Of course, I will honor and obey you as society expects; in the eyes of the world you will always be my lord. But . . .” He moaned, and a shiver of delight passed through him. “But, in the bedroom . . .” Her words caused him to stop breathing. “But in the bedroom, you shall honor and obey me . . . as we both know you crave it.” She looked away and smiled innocently at an elderly woman who passed nearby.
“I do . . . I do crave it . . .” Sebastian whispered hoarsely.
“In the privacy of our own world”—she said without turning toward him—“there is so much we can explore together . . . we three . . . inextricably bound.”
“Anna . . .” His throat constricted with emotion.
“I know, Sebastian. It will be beautiful.”
He closed his eyes and tapped the side of his head against the stone column until the physical pain brought him back from the brink of spending himself in the middle of the crowded drawing room.
Pia started pacing as soon as the abbess left the small chamber. Her sharp mind dulled with the news she had been given. A lady’s maid? To Anna? Was hers to be a lifetime of bitter torment, watching her lover be controlled and dominated by such a man as the infamous Sebastian de Montizon? Or worse, what if Anna actually loved him?
Either way, Pia had been given word that her life was to become a circle of hell. She forced a tight fist into her mouth to stifle her anguished cry.
At first, she’d been overwhelmed with joy when the abbess gave her the news that Anna was coming to retrieve her. To see Anna! Oh, how her heart sang at the prospect! To kiss that place at the back of her neck where the palest wisps of blonde hair pointed to the straight perfection of her spine. To feel Anna’s nearly careless petting and touching while Pia curled at the foot of Anna’s bed or rested her head in Anna’s lap.
Then tears of misery threatened when the abbess elaborated, “She and her husband will arrive in a few weeks to collect you.” To never have those things again would have been torture enough, but to live in the constant presence of the man who was receiving that touch in her stead? To know he was receiving those greedy kisses? She wasn’t sure she could bear it.
Patrizia Velasquez Carvajal was strong in every way imaginable. She was tall and formidable, with hard muscles along her thighs and hips and shoulders; she was a respected member of her small community; she was a capable person when it came to organizing projects or navigating the political nuances of convent life. But she wasn’t strong when it came to Anna. The mere
He hummed his gratitude and leaned more heavily against the column at his side. Not being able to touch her was proving difficult.
“Do you want to touch me very badly, Sebastian? Even here in front of all of these prying noblemen?” Of course she had noticed he was struggling, and the wicked woman was enjoying it. The realization that she could taunt him here in a crowded room as easily as she could toy with him in an empty library or a deserted hallway brought a mischievous smile to her face. “Do you want your lips on me again, you greedy boy?” Her voice was soft, her expression light and cheerful. If anyone glimpsed them talking, it would appear they were discussing something of little importance, the violinist or the membrillo that had been served after supper.
She rubbed the tip of her finger along her lower lip, and he practically groaned. She glanced down at his firming cock. “That’s it, my sweet Sebastian. So responsive. So giving.” She let her hand slip away from her lips and stared into his eyes.
“I am yours, Anna,” he said quietly. “In every possible way a man can offer himself to a woman, I offer myself to you. I submit my body into your keeping.”
“I will treasure the gift of your submission, Sebastian.” She was no longer toying with him. “Of course, I will honor and obey you as society expects; in the eyes of the world you will always be my lord. But . . .” He moaned, and a shiver of delight passed through him. “But, in the bedroom . . .” Her words caused him to stop breathing. “But in the bedroom, you shall honor and obey me . . . as we both know you crave it.” She looked away and smiled innocently at an elderly woman who passed nearby.
“I do . . . I do crave it . . .” Sebastian whispered hoarsely.
“In the privacy of our own world”—she said without turning toward him—“there is so much we can explore together . . . we three . . . inextricably bound.”
“Anna . . .” His throat constricted with emotion.
“I know, Sebastian. It will be beautiful.”
He closed his eyes and tapped the side of his head against the stone column until the physical pain brought him back from the brink of spending himself in the middle of the crowded drawing room.
Pia started pacing as soon as the abbess left the small chamber. Her sharp mind dulled with the news she had been given. A lady’s maid? To Anna? Was hers to be a lifetime of bitter torment, watching her lover be controlled and dominated by such a man as the infamous Sebastian de Montizon? Or worse, what if Anna actually loved him?
Either way, Pia had been given word that her life was to become a circle of hell. She forced a tight fist into her mouth to stifle her anguished cry.
At first, she’d been overwhelmed with joy when the abbess gave her the news that Anna was coming to retrieve her. To see Anna! Oh, how her heart sang at the prospect! To kiss that place at the back of her neck where the palest wisps of blonde hair pointed to the straight perfection of her spine. To feel Anna’s nearly careless petting and touching while Pia curled at the foot of Anna’s bed or rested her head in Anna’s lap.
Then tears of misery threatened when the abbess elaborated, “She and her husband will arrive in a few weeks to collect you.” To never have those things again would have been torture enough, but to live in the constant presence of the man who was receiving that touch in her stead? To know he was receiving those greedy kisses? She wasn’t sure she could bear it.
Patrizia Velasquez Carvajal was strong in every way imaginable. She was tall and formidable, with hard muscles along her thighs and hips and shoulders; she was a respected member of her small community; she was a capable person when it came to organizing projects or navigating the political nuances of convent life. But she wasn’t strong when it came to Anna. The mere
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