The Games We Play

She just stared at him, startled by the cold viciousness that filled the depths of his eyes when he watched her. What had she expected? A warm look filled with caring. She turned away, loath to deny the charges, knowing that he would believe what he wished, no matter her protests to the contrary.

"What, Isabella? No denials?" he laughed softly in her ear, causing shivers to course down the length of her body. He knew just what to do to get a response from her.

"What is the point of denying it? If I did you wouldn't believe me. You would just go on thinking what you wanted, finding me guilty in your mind."

They finished the minuet in silence, avoiding each other's eyes. When they walked off the ballroom floor, it seemed to everyone in the room that the couple was not happy in each other's company, and many wondered why they had bothered to marry at all.

"Mother, I swear to you that this marriage will never work, and I curse the day that you and father fated me to this. I am doomed to spend the rest of my life married to a man who loathes me," Isabella complained as they ascended the stairs to her rooms to prepare her for her wedding night.

Genevive looked away ashamed of her part in her daughter's unhappiness. For years she had wanted nothing but her daughter's happiness and joy. She would never let Bella know that she was remorseful over this. It would only make her daughter beg for help to escape her husband. "Why would Nicholas loath you darling?" she asked, not understanding why the Earl would offer for a girl he did not care for at all.

"He hates me because I said something heartless to him yesterday." she replied, muttering "Not that I blame him," under her breath.

"You needn't be so melodramatic, Isabella. It's not as if we sentenced you to death. And I'm sure Nicholas doesn't hate you. Maybe, if you can't come to love Nicholas, you will find happiness in motherhood," Genevive coaxed hopefully.

"That won't be possible if he takes my children from me," she muttered under her breath as they walked into her room. Slowly her mother began to help her from the constriction of her wedding gown and into the elegant nightgown that had been given to her by her sister for her first night as a married woman.

She let it slither over her head, a rush of cool midnight blue silk with spaghetti strap ties at each shoulder and slits up both sides to her hips, exposing her long, sculpted legs. Isabella turned around and her mother unbound her hair for her and she shook it, letting it fall in untamed waves to her lower back.

"Daughter, I take my leave now and leave you with this thought. Try to make the most of what you deem a bad situation, though, Lord knows, no other woman I know would see it that way." She whispered her final thought and quietly slipped out the door.

Isabella paced restlessly around the room, not dare glancing at the bed, knowing what would soon occur there and how she knew that she would enjoy it. She could never hide her excitement from Nicholas. He fueled her body as if she were dry wood just waiting for a match to light her. He was that match and when she was lit she burned out of control, taking him with her. And she would accept it, for he would not let her turn away from him and make this a marriage in name only. She knew that she couldn't abide a marriage such as that either. Her body lived for the pleasure that she knew only he could give her.

Nicholas stood outside her door, hearing her pacing nervously around the room waiting for him. He had planned on making her wait for several hours, giving her a chance to become thoroughly agitated, before making an appearance. Finally he saw the lights go off under the crack between the floor and the bottom of the door and he heard the bedcovers rustle as she turned back the sheets, climbing between them. Now was the time to make his entrance.

He opened the door slowly, not making a sound as his bare feet slid over the wood floor. He shut it behind him, not even letting the small click of it shutting reach her ears. He leaned back against the door and stared at the bed where she lay, her thick chestnut hair fanning behind her like a regal crown. Her eyelashes fell like dark crescent moons against her pale ivory cheeks and her full, pink lips were slightly parted and gentle breath was exhaled between them. She looked like an ethereal angel. He was loath to wake her but he didn't intend to be cheated out of tasting the pleasures of her body just because she looked like an angel in her sleep.

"Isabella," he said sharply. She jerked awake, as though she hadn't been sleeping deeply, and sat upright, glaring at the intruder to her sleep.

"Were you ever planning to show up or was it your plan to make me wait for a couple of hours then come and demand your husbandly rights?" His expression of shock betrayed him and she knew that she was right. "You look surprised Nicholas. I don't blame you. Not many people know of my ability to know the way a person thinks through just a few meetings. Why do you think I shut out the light and climbed into bed? I knew you would come once you thought me to be asleep."

"Did I give myself away while I stood outside your room?"

"No, but it is my wish to have this over quickly so that we may forget about this night, though I know that I have many to endure in the months to come. But I wish to get it over with all the same, and have a peaceful nights sleep once you retire to your own chamber."

"Endure, Bella? You won't have to endure anything tonight. You will be an active participant in the excruciating pleasure that I can give you." He smiled sinisterly. Slowly he stripped away his drawers, the only article of clothing he had been wearing, and watched as her eyes grew wide, taking in his naked body.

She stared at his muscular male body, remembering the way he filled her, possessing her completely. Remembering the way he had thrust into her, touching her womb, pushing her to complete surrender of everything she was.

He stalked her, advancing on her, waiting to see if she would withdraw or if she would stand her ground. She stayed where she was, not looking away as he reached over and untied one of the straps of her nightgown and let it fall, exposing an ivory breast. He cupped it in his palm and stroked her nipple until it beaded into a hard nub. Gently he pinched it and smirked when she tipped her head back, her lips parted into a small O of surprise. He pulled back the bedsheet that had covered her. Still stroking her breast, he undid the other strap of her nightgown and let it slither to her waist. Then he slowly pulled the gown off of her and threw it across the room. He stepped back slightly, his gaze traveling over her body, which was bathed in moonlight streaming in the window behind her.

Her breasts rose large and proud, his hand having gone back to stroking one. Her stomach was flat and smooth. His gaze didn't stop there though. It was drawn to the thatch of chestnut curls between her long, sculpted legs. Slowly his gaze traveled back up until he was staring into her eyes once more. Her body had changed, maturing in the three years that he had been gone. He had clearly seen how much she had changed the other day at the lake. Breasts that he remembered as small and pert, had become large and round, more responsive to his touch. Her body had assumed an hourglass figure, totally different from the slim, petite girl he had initiated sexually on that stone bench five years ago.

He climbed onto the bed, stretching his hard, muscled length against her. Reverently he cupped her other breast, chaffing that dusky rose nipple as well, and leaned down to kiss her lips. The kiss began with a gentle hesitantness, but soon they both discovered they wanted more and it deepened to all consuming. Isabella slid her arms around Nicholas's neck and pressed herself as close to him as she could, not shying away at the feel of his hard, aroused manhood against her. He clutched at her lower back, trying to pull her even closer, as if he wanted to absorb her into him. His tongue gently parted her lips and thrust inside her mouth tasting her, the sweetness that seemed to be hidden behind walls most of the time, was present, his for the taking. And he took it without hesitation.

When her tongue touched his, he thought he felt steam pouring from his body. Their tongues mated, entwining, in a preview of what was to come.

This wasn't going the way he had planned. Of course he wanted to pleasure her and find pleasure in her body, but he hadn't counted on the feelings that she could evoke in him by just lying naked in front of him, as still as a porcelain statue. He wasn't supposed to be getting so involved in this. He had always been able to keep his emotions separated when he made love to other women, yet he couldn't seem to do it with her. He never could whenever they were together. She made him feel things that he didn't want to feel. She made him love her. Everything she did intrigued him; the way she her temper flared, the way she walked, her petticoats swishing lightly, the way she kissed. As he reached out to cup her cheek in his palm, he vowed that he would not care for her. He would not. He had offered his love once and wouldn't be so foolish again.

"Nicholas, I want you. . ." she said softly, her body arching under his caresses.

She broke off when he placed two slender fingers against her lips.It seemed that those few words broke a dam of pent up longing inside him and he rolled, bringing her on top of him. She straddled his waist, staring down at him. Nicholas's hands settled on her knees, then moved slowly upward, caressing her softly, causing goosebumps to spring up over her silken flesh. Deftly he leaned up and captured a puckered nipple between his lips swirling his tongue over it, his hands stroking the soft flesh of her inner thighs..

Shock waves rocked her body, shooting from the tips of her breasts to that most secret part of her and she tipped her head back in silent agony. She wiggled against him causing him to tear his mouth from her breast and groan.

She stared at him, not wanting to be a passive participant in this, but wanting to touch and taste him as he was her. Before he could stop her she slid off of him and knelt between his legs.

"What are you doing, Bella?" he asked hoarsely, his eyes heavy lidded withpassion.

"You always seem to be in control when we're together. I want my turn." Without waiting for a response she leaned up across his chest and ran her hands over the soft whorls of golden hair that blanketed his sleek muscles. She dragged a slender finger with a sculpted nail down the center of his chest, over his stomach, and all the way to his groin. She was fascinated by the way his muscles leapt with each caress of her hands over his taut, tan skin.

He watched her, his breath coming in soft, shallow pants, as her lips finally descended toward his flat, brown nipple. Like he had done to her, she closed her lips around it and flicked her tongue back and forth, tormenting him. Her roaming hands wouldn't be still and his eyes, which had drifted closed, snapped open when he felt her hands come around his hardened shaft, squeezing softly then releasing, only to start again. His back arched off the bed, lifting her with him.

When she slithered down his body and flicked the head of his penis with her tongue, he thought he was going to explode. Tantalizingly, she ran her soft pink tongue down the entire length of his shaft. He felt his blood running hot through his veins, pulsing through him and held onto his control only by a thin thread. Before he could stop her, not wanting to spill his seed, she took him fully into her mouth and began to suck slowly, her hair falling around her in a soft curtain.

It took a few agonizing seconds, but he finally reached down and lifted her hair out of the way to watch her torture and torment him. Finally, right when he thought he would burst, spilling himself into her mouth, he reached down and pulled her up so that she laid, once more, across his chest.

Then he rolled her under him and he shifted comfortably to fit between her legs. "My turn," he whispered, his voice soft and hoarse. He then spread soft, butterfly kisses to her earlobe and sucked on it gently while his hands roamed untamed over her body. She was screaming with need when he slid down between her legs to put her through the torture she had made him endure. His hot breath fanned the curls at the apex of her thighs, stirring them softly. Gently he parted the folds of her womanhood and she moaned softly when his mouth latched onto her, his tongue slipping inside to taste her. He groaned when the warm honey of her essence flowed into his mouth. He was thrilled to know that she was as aroused as he. Slowly he drove her mad with need, her hips lifting into his hands, trying to get closer to the sweet torture that he was putting her through.

Just when she thought she couldn't bear anymore, the tight coil of desire that had been building inside her burst, sending radiant waves of ecstasy flashing through her body in blinding rays. Her whole body arched as convulsive shudders wracked her. She clutched the bedsheets in a frenzy of completion.

He gave her no time to think. While her climax was pouring through her he slid up over her, bracing his weight on his forearms. He reached back with one arm and raised Bella's legs around his waist, then he slid, ever so slowly into her welcoming heat, stretching the resisting muscles of her passage.

God, she was as tight as a fist closing around his hardened length and squeezing. He pushed into her, her muscles stretching under the gentle pressure of his thick length sliding into her. He thrust little by little into her, driving her insane with the feel of him, but not giving her all of him just yet. He looked down on her; her eyes clenched shut and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin making crescent moons and even drawing some blood. She looked every bit the wanton woman in the throes of ecstasy.

"Nicholas. . . please!" she cried lifting her hips to try and force him completely into her. At the same moment, he thrust deeply, the head of his shaft touching her womb. Her cries echoed off the walls of Briarwood and the people still celebrating in the banquet hall smiled ruefully to themselves.

She pressed her face into the damp curve of his neck, breathing in his scent. She felt his muscles trembling, knowing that he was holding back, not wanting it to be over right away. She knew that his control must have been close to snapping, feeling the shaking of his body, and the sweat that slicked his back and chest and beaded on his forehead.

She moved against him, testing his length with a slow dip and arch of her hips, her body accepting the thick length of him.

"Bella," he groaned.

His restraint shattered and he moved within her. She writhed beneath him, rising to meet his every thrust, meeting his passion, trying to ease the tendrils of desire that weaved inside her. Her hands clawed his slick back and she twisted beneath him, trying to get closer, reaching for the shattering climax that she knew was coiling inside her like a spring.

He thrust harder and faster, not being able to get deep enough. She made a mockery of the tight control that he usually kept in tight rein. She met him thrust for thrust, her nerves screaming in agony for the delicious torture to end, yet never wanting it to be over.

Nicholas's control finally snapped and he felt her inner muscles clench him as his seed spurted from his body in hot bursts at the mouth of her womb. She cried out at the feel of his seed, the driving pumps that accompanied those bursts, and the world shattered around her, her back arching and her hips rising off the bed, lifting into his, spasms shaking her to the very soul.

Nicholas collapsed into her arms. She slid her hand down his back, absorbing the damp heat of his skin. She smiled against the top of his head, the golden waves tickling her chin. He lay as naked as a babe in her arms, his face turned into her shoulder, his weight pressing her down into the soft, goose-down mattress. The heat of his body kept her warm.

She breathed in the scent of him, the spicy unique scent that she had always been aware that only he possessed, mingling with the scent of love making. She ran her hands down his back soothing him as an aftershock of climax shook him, causing her inner muscles to tighten around his shaft. There weren't any words to describe the splendor of it.

He cared for her, even if he refused to admit it. He had taken his time, kissing and caressing her. He had taken her with gentleness and passion. These weren't the actions of a man who hated her, who only wanted an heir. And it wasn't simply lust. It couldn't have been. Lust would have driven him to ram into her with unbridled passion.

He stirred, bracing himself on his forearms to look down into her face. She stared up into the stunning beauty of eyes the color of India jade. Turmoil swirled in those heavenly green depths.

She slid the tip of her forefinger over the smooth curve of his lower lip. "That was wonderful Nicholas. I've never felt quite so spectacular," Isabella said slumberously.

He glanced away from her. "It was just sex, Bella. A pleasant diversion that, for as long as men and women have been on Earth, has been required to produce a child. Women have always been used sexually to provide men with heirs to a throne, a title, or an estate. Truthfully, you are nothing better than a whore who sells herself for a couple of pounds at the local whorehouse, except that you are well bred, have good manners, have been schooled so that you are intellectually stimulating, and know how to entertain a large group of socially prominent people."

She stared at him, her eyes wide with confusion and brimming with tears. "Why are you saying these things Nicholas? I am not a whore. I don't give myself to any strange man who will pay twenty pounds for use of my body. The only reason you got the privilege is becuase we married. I am not a whore!"

"Yet you gave yourself to a strange man. You let him take your innocence on a cold stone bench at one of the most important balls of the Season. I didn't even have to pay for the use of your body. You let me have it. You saved me twenty pounds by giving yourself to me that night. I was just going to go down to the waterfront and pay for a doxy, but you gave me another option." He sighed softly. "Think what you want, Isabella. But the fact of the matter is that as of today, you sold yourself to me. You're my whore as far as I'm concerned."

Anger flickered with the frustration deep inside her. She wanted to scream, to grab him and hold him until she was certain he didn't mean any of the ugly things he said.

He pulled out of her and climbed out of the bed, turning to her, his face carved into hard lines, his eyes glittering with suppressed rage. "You are my wife to give me an heir, that's it. Don't expect anything else from me, except my presence in your bed every night until you conceive." He pulled on his drawers.

She clutched the bedsheet against her breasts as he walked to the door. He paused at the door leading to the withdrawing chamber. "I'm through with you. At least for tonight."

"You can forget about coming back. Ever!" she snapped pridefully.

He stalked her, each stride filled with the powerful grace that was so much a part of him. "Get this straight, Bella. You're mine." He cupped her cheeks in his hands. "I'll take you when I want you. Where I want you. For as long as I want you." He clamped his mouth over hers, devouring any protest that she might have made. He kissed her until he felt the tension seep from her body and she was pressing against him. Too soon he was stepping away, leaving her dazed and hungry for all he could give. She sagged back against the pillow staring up into his furious green eyes.