Chapter 9

Diana

Flowers were part of courtship.

Though it took the housekeeper explaining the meaning behind the bouquets that arrived daily for Diana to understand the full messages the Marquess—Oliver, as he now insisted she call him—was sending her.

Devotion

Admiration.

Love.

Carriage rides and promenades were part of courtship. They'd gone out every day for a week, always under the guise of exercise or looking for information. Both goals were met, but that was not the sum of the outing. London had been rocked by the news of the dukes, yet life went on.

The colors of mourning were everywhere as funerals were arranged, but there were still other colors as well and not just in her bouquets. As she was out with a marquess, Diana wore more muted tones so as not to draw attention to herself, but being beside Oliver always did. If anything, the ton was even more starved for gossip and distraction in the face of so many unexpected deaths in so short a time.

So far, there was no hint of it being anything but an accident.

Despite Oliver's obvious frustration with the lack of information, his impatience with waiting for Anthony and Evie to return, and his daily meetings with the Crown, he carved out time for Diana each day. Every night after dinner, he walked her to her room, where he'd steal a kiss… then leave her there.

Which was far more frustrating than if he'd tried to seduce her again.

Point of fact—she was beginning to want him to try to seduce her again. She was not entirely sure how to go about seducing him, or she would have already done so, but she was beginning to think she would need to make an attempt. The last time had just… happened.

She'd begun fantasizing about punishing him for his manipulations the morning he'd faked his heart issue. Other times, she fantasized about having him focused on her pleasure again rather than her on his pain. She'd wake up from heated dreams, aching to the point where her hand slid down to relieve herself. But it was not the same.

Exactly ten days after the Society of Sin masquerade, Diana decided she'd had enough.

When Oliver walked her to her room and leaned in for the kiss, she reached up to grab hold of the lapels of his jacket… and did not let go when he started to pull away. There was only a moment of hesitation, then suddenly, he was kissing her back so hungrily, so feverishly, he pressed her up against her door. Diana gasped as liquid heat poured through her when his tongue delved between her lips. She kissed him back, deepening the kiss, clutching at his jacket as his hard cock dug into her stomach.

He lifted his head just enough to end the kiss, though his body remained against hers.

"Inside," he said roughly, reaching for the door handle. It swung open. Only then did he hesitate. "If that is what you want."

"It is." She did not let go of his jacket as she stepped back, pulling him into the room with her. The door slammed shut behind him.

Then his mouth was on hers again, and they were devouring each other as they moved toward the bed. He groaned as she moved her lips down to his chest, nipping at his skin. She wondered if his nipples were as sensitive as hers and set to find out. From his groans when she ran her tongue over the small bud, then dragged her teeth across that same path, she surmised they must at least feel close.

This time, when they made it onto the bed, she rolled so he was on top of her. She wanted to know how it was different.

Less control on her part but also more freedom on his. He took his time, playing with her breasts, licking and suckling, the tip of his cock rubbing along the seam of her cunt while he pleasured them both until Diana could not take it anymore.

"Enough… I need you. Now."

She cried out as he thrust inside her, her body quivering as he filled the empty ache. Finally. Moving hard and fast, he focused his entire being on her pleasure, driving her higher and higher. Her muscles clamped around him, liquid heat pouring through her as he moved. With her legs wrapped around him, her heels digging into his flexing buttocks, she could control his movements somewhat.

"More," she demanded as her pleasure rose higher, cresting. "Harder!"

He groaned, dropping his head down, thrusting harder and faster at her direction. The growing ecstasy swirled and exploded within her, and she cried out as she shattered under the sensual assault. Each stroke of his cock sent her on a new wave of rapture, her muscles squeezing his cock but unable to stop its movements. The friction was an overload of intense sensation, glutting her senses until she screamed his name.

Only then did he slam home within her, groaning as he reached his own completion. Rocking against her, he sent her on another paroxysm of pleasure.

Oliver

The night Diana pulled him into her room changed everything.

For one, it was the last night she spent in her room. That was the beginning of her sleeping in his room, as was due his marchioness. However, he had not brought up the subject again yet, deeming it best to ease her into it. It was not as if she was unaware of his intentions.

And he was courting her. As advised. Since it seemed to be working, he was happy to continue down that path.

However, the third night in his room led to an unexpected place—arms above his head, braced against the bedpost, with his feet about shoulder-width apart, while Diana tormented him with a crop.

She had not forgotten about how he'd tried to trap her into marriage with him.

"Ow!" Bloody hell, that particular stinging thwap had hit very far up his thigh, too close to his balls, which tried to self-protectively retract as much as they could. He pressed his forehead to the wooden post he was leaning against, breathing hard as he fought the urge to reach down and protect his tender sack.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Diana said with false sympathy. The leather flap on the end of the crop tapped against his knee before she slid it up the thigh she'd just smacked, past the stinging spot where the blow had landed to rub against the sensitive skin between his sack and his anus.

Oliver groaned again, going up on his toes as his confused dick tried to decide whether it wanted to shrink or expand.

"Did that hurt?"

"You know it did," he growled back. Then bit his lip because the crop disappeared again… when it returned, it landed on his other thigh in almost exactly the same spot.

"Maybe next time you'll think twice about trying to manipulate me."

"Seems to be working out for me so far."

Dammit. Sometimes, he needed to learn to keep his mouth shut. He was utterly brilliant when it came to keeping secrets for the Crown or others. Not a single syllable he did not want to reveal ever passed his lips. However, put a woman with a crop in front of him, and apparently, every filthy thought, every witticism that passed through his head, came tumbling out.

When it came to a woman in the bedroom, he had no sense of self-preservation.

The crop did not return immediately. For a moment, he worried he'd gone too far and that she was going to retreat again. Instead…

"Turn around." The crisp order made him relax, then tense again at the ramifications.

Presenting his buttocks and shoulders for punishment was one thing—all his most tender bits were on his front side. The side she now wanted presented to her.

He just had to play the dangerous game.

But he also trusted her.

Dropping his arms, he turned around, a little smile playing on her lips. Wearing nothing but a thin chemise that hid very little of her delectable body, her hair down in waves to her waist, she looked like a seductive goddess at whose altar he was all too ready to worship.

Immediately, his cock decided it did not want to shrink, and the little bit of softness that had crept in disappeared as he hardened all over again. She was playing havoc with his senses.

"Lean back against the post and grab it with your hands," she instructed, that little smile turning utterly wicked.

Bollocks.

He was in trouble. Not just physically, either. She was so bloody perfect, everything he would have dreamed of if he'd dared dream of finding a second wife. His heart was on the line again, and he was not sure how to handle it.

All he could do was show her that he trusted her, court her, and hope that she came to the same conclusion.

That they could be happy together. That they belonged together.

That she should be his wife.

Leaning back against the post thrust his lower body—and his erection—forward slightly. Reaching up to hold on to it left his upper body open and vulnerable to whatever she wanted to do to him. Stepping forward, the crop swung upward, making him flinch, even though she slowed the movement as the tip actually reached him.

The leather stroked against his skin rather than stinging, but it took a moment for him to realize that it did not hurt. Despite the way his balls wanted to shrivel, his cock was harder than ever, pulsing its need to be inside her. To pleasure her. To give her whatever she wanted.

Unfortunately for his cock, what she wanted right now was to torture him.

The leather slid against his skin, lifting his balls. He sucked in a breath, holding it until the crop moved away—upward to stroke against his cock. The appendage quivered with glee at finally receiving attention.

The crop lifted and smacked against the side of it, making him groan, caught between pleasure and pain. The sting was sharp, yet it felt good against his tightly stretched skin. His dick was happy for whatever stimulation it could get right now but confused as to whether it was being punished or pleasured.

She flicked her wrist, and the crop smacked against his shaft on the other side.

Oliver groaned again, going up on his toes as the pain slightly overrode the pleasure. The movement made it look as though he was thrusting his hips forward, asking for more.

"Bloody hell, my lady. If you beat my cock, how am I supposed to satisfy you with it?" His question was answered with a chuckle as the leather flap on the crop swept up his length and tapped against the sensitive tip. Oliver sucked in a breath, waiting on pins and needles to find out if she was going to use more force on that tender part.

"You still look perfectly capable to me," she retorted teasingly, running the leather over the head of his dick. The slick fluid leaking from the tip was spread over his sensitive mushroom, making him shudder, his eyes half-closing as pleasure surged, overriding any lingering sting.

Then, it disappeared before snapping against the tip again.

Bloody hell!

He panted through the pain, which was somewhat soothed by the hand suddenly wrapped around his shaft as Diana pressed up against him. As soon as he had enough control over himself, still holding onto the post, he glared down at her as her breasts brushed against him. The thin fabric of her chemise was not enough to hide the hardness of her nipples as they rubbed against his chest.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked grumpily.

Her hand tightened around his shaft almost painfully, her thumb sweeping over the sensitive head she'd just abused.

"Was trying to trap me into marriage really necessary?" she countered.

"You were about to run. I would say yes."

She laughed softly, going up on her tiptoes to brush her lips over his.

"Then so was this." She smiled at him serenely, completely unperturbed, as his glare grew harder. "I'm not running now."

His heart pounded in his chest. Was she saying what he thought she was?

Her hand moved, stroking him, as if to emphasize the fact she was not running. Retreat was clearly the last thing on her mind.

"My Lady." This was not the right moment, was it? On the other hand, it seemed as though she was encouraging him. It was surely an improvement upon not asking her at all. "Will you marry me?"

For a moment, she did not answer, though she continued smiling at him, her hand still moving on his cock, leaving him hanging from the post on her whim.

Sadistic woman.

"Yes."

He was so caught up in thinking she was not going to answer, distracted by the sensation of her hand moving along his length, it took him a moment to register what she'd actually said.

"Yes?" Part of him could not believe he'd heard correctly.

She laughed, giving his cock another hard stroke, as if that was going to do anything but discombobulate him further.

"Yes." She went back up on her toes for another kiss.

Unable to hold back any longer as emotions surged through him, he brought his arms down around her, pulling her tightly against him. Their kiss deepened as he swung her around toward the bed, and he could feel her laughing at his reaction, but he did not care.

He could not remember having been this happy since… since before Marianne died. And his first wife would not have wanted that. She would want him to be happy.

Diana made him happy again.

Lifting his head, he looked down at her directly in the eyes.

"I love you." Though he'd expressed the sentiment in flower arrangements, he had not said the words aloud to her until now.

Her lips curved up, eyes sparkling like happy diamonds.

"I love you, too."

"If this is what cropping my cock gets me, you can do it any time you want."

Laughter followed them down onto the bed as they rolled until he was on his back, her straddling him. He ran his hands up and down her sides, brushing her breasts and hips as she hovered above him.

"Are you saying you're going to try to trap me into marrying you often?" she teased, the wet heat of her body teasing his tortured tip.

"As often as I need to." He grinned up at her. He had no doubt that she would be given ample opportunity to punish him in the future. Something about her brought it out in him.

"I think once will do the trick."

He did not get an opportunity to respond before she sank down on top of him, making him groan as he thrust upward into the pleasurable haven of her body. She had probably done that on purpose, ensuring she had the last word. He did not begrudge it to her.

Moving atop him, slowly at first, she smiled as their gazes caught. His hands slid up to cup her breasts, massaging them, pinching her nipples, and making her sigh with pleasure as her pace began to pick up. Oliver gave himself over to her, body and soul, moving beneath her, letting her use him as she pleased until she cried out, her cunt clamping down around him. Only then did he let go of the reins of his own pleasure, moving beneath her, her body rubbing against his, until he also reached his explosive climax.

When she fell atop him, her body molded to his, he stroked his fingers down her back as they caught their breath.

His lady. His future wife.

Suddenly, the future looked so much brighter.