The Return of Lady Honoria

  The Return of Lady Honoria

  by

  Jodi Henley

  Copyright 2012 Jodi Henley

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places and characters are products of the author's imagination and not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Lady Honoria Cavanaugh saw her nemesis across the crowded ballroom and immediately pictured him naked. He turned to wave at her, the wretch—and made everyone in his vicinity stare.

  Honoria had all the usual accoutrements, birth, beauty and wealth. The one thing she didn’t have was the ability to stare down a crowd and Danton knew it. In less than a month, he'd ferreted out all her secrets. To give him credit, he didn't talk about their solitary assignation or her sexual peccadilloes, but if there was a phobia, weakness or quirk she'd kept hidden from the ravenous attention of the Ton, she had to assume he was holding it like a child contemplating a blueberry comfit. It wasn't a matter of if he'd use it, but rather when it would do the most damage.

  Gathering her composure, Honoria turned in the opposite direction. Away from the ballroom the crowds thinned leaving her aunt’s lavishly gilded corridors empty of prying eyes. Honoria's reflection frowned back at her from hundreds of shiny gold surfaces, reminding her that she'd been the one to follow Danton to London and if she couldn't deal with his unfortunate personality then it was better to know now, before their unorthodox relationship went any further. Drat the man for being such a stimulating companion. She couldn't remember actually talking to anyone before he'd come into her life.

  She pushed into a deserted drawing room and stood holding the latch, her gaze fixed on a tall armchair turned toward the fire. One elegantly shod foot dangled over the carved wooden armrest, kicking slowly.

  Both hands fisted at her sides while passion rose to a screaming pitch. She lurched forward, fingers curled into claws. “You told my father I was afraid of horses?”

  Danton unrolled from his lounging position and closed the distance between them. “If you're going to choke me,” he said, politely, “you might want to raise your hands.” He pulled her hands into place around his neck and fell to his knees, gurgling.

  Honoria dropped him. “You forgot to stick your tongue out.”

  “Did I?” He promptly stuck out his tongue.

  “Blast it all, Danton. Have you been avoiding me?”

  Danton rolled over and held out his hand. “We could have this conversation much more comfortably if you'd close the door.”

  He looked different in the shifting darkness, bigger and more dangerous, unlike the nondescript lord he presented to the rest of the Ton. His fingers were dry, welcome heat and when he pulled her down into his arms, she went willingly. Honoria could feel the rapid thump of his heart against her chest. He held her tightly, face buried in her hair and she held him back.

  “I missed you.”

  “It's very hard to stay mad at you when you—”

  “Have such a large cock?” he inserted brightly.

  “—are such an unrepentant wretch,” she told him.

  His lips touched hers very gently. “I am a smiling damned villain, Honoria. Never forget.”

  “I'm fully aware of your villainous nature,” Honoria said. She kept her eyes open as their lips shifted and watched the play of firelight across his face.

  “No,” he said bluntly. “You're not. But I feel you deserve fair warning since it seems I can't stay away from you.”

  Her palm flattened on his mouth and pushed. “Villain!” she cried, using his self-appointed label. “Did you try?”

  His tongue wrapped around her index finger, eyes half-closed. “Don't screech, my dear. It ill becomes you.”

  Honoria swayed toward him, lips parted. “I thought we were friends.”

  Danton pulled her finger from his mouth and abruptly kissed her with very little of his usual panache. “There's the rub. It'd be better for the both of us if we weren't. I am not good to know, my dear.”

  “If you’re bad ton, I shall be dreadfully put out.”

  “I have more entrée than you,” Danton said bluntly. He got to his feet and picked up a heavy wooden chair.

  Honoria eyed it uneasily. “What are you doing with that?”

  He gave her a sidelong look and wedged the frame under the doorknob. “Barricading you in, my dear.”

  Honoria folded her arms down over her chest. “Why don’t you just ask me to stay?”

  “Would you?”

  “If you ask nicely.” Honoria gave him an uncertain smile.

  He walked up to her and slowly held out his hand. His knuckles were scraped and bruised like he’d hit something, but the look in his eyes made her stomach fall away. “Stay with me?”

  Honoria put her hand in his. “And your large cock?”

  His grin flashed out. “It’s very wide,” he told her earnestly. “And one of my best features.”

  She burst out laughing. “How can I deny such a request?”

  “You can’t,” said Danton. “Overcome with lust and thoughts of an amatory nature you throw yourself on my manly chest and demand I satisfy you for at least an hour. If not two.”

  “Two,” said Honoria, lifting her face to his. “At least two and perhaps three.”

  Honoria had watched her parent’s quick pecks and the slobbering mother bird style she’d seen men use with other women. Kisses, she’d thought, were vastly overrated. It seemed like an unpleasant pastime. But it was different with Danton. She could kiss Danton forever, lost in his embrace while their tongues leisurely explored each other. He pulled away, swept an arm under her knees and threw her up over his shoulder.

  Honoria thumped into place, eyes wide and arms flailing. “Danton!”

  Laughter rumbled up through his chest. He lowered her to an elaborately carved couch and rummaged in her bodice, pulling the thin wooden busk from her corset. “Honoria!”

  He trailed the thin piece of wood between her thighs and followed it with his hand.

  The way she’d landed gave her an unobstructed view of his crotch. She reached out to trace his rapidly growing girth and he stopped, hands fisted in her silken skirts. He was bigger than she remembered, and when she undid his buttons he filled her hands to overflowing. He didn’t have an ounce of give. It seemed incredible that even soft, he fit into his neatly tailored pants. All that flesh had to go somewhere.

  He pushed her gown up over her belly and despite having sex with him once before, the sudden, abrupt exposure was almost as shocking as the feel of his thumb pressing her clit. He slipped his fingers into her willing depths and she groaned.

  “You're so wet,” he growled.

  “For you,” she whispered, pulling him down into her embrace. Her hands knotted in his hair, holding on to him. She was on fire—ravenous with need, eyes heavy-lidded as she watched him rear over her, one hand locked around the base of his cock.

  He paused at her entrance and sheathed himself in a hard lunge, pushing past her defenses as she shrieked. His free hand slapped down over her mouth, stopping her cries.

  What little she could see of him over his hand was intent an
d brutal, lips drawn back over his bared teeth. He played at average so well it was unnerving to see him thus revealed, and Honoria couldn’t stop the fine tremors that racked her lower limbs, leaving her shaking in the aftermath of each pounding thrust. Surely she wasn’t afraid of him?

  His fingers traced the vulnerable line of her throat before they finally locked on her chin, his blue eyes glittering as if everything to do with her body belonged to him alone. “Pull your legs apart.”

  Lifting her knees forced him deeper. She’d forgotten how big he was. Honoria gasped, cruelly skewered by his impaling cock. Even his smallest movement made her painfully aware of his enormous girth.

  “You’re tight,” he growled, slamming back into her hard enough to make her grunt.

  Her head wedged against the opposite armrest. “And you’re driving me mad,” she said, thrusting up to meet him despite her awkward position. “Damn you, Danton!”

  His grin flashed out like summer lightning and the pace of his thrusts slowed, holding her on the very edge of release. Closing his fingers on her nipples, he pulled and twisted at them until her hips rolled violently.

  “Like that, do you?”

  Honoria moaned, rocking her ass up towards him. She was caught in a frenzy of pain and pleasure. “Please, Danton!”

  His mouth traced the length of her calf with aching tenderness and abruptly captured her lips. Unable to move, Honoria felt his hand slide between her thighs to her clit. He pulled the sensitive nub from hiding and clamped it between his fingers, running his thumb over her engorged flesh hard enough to make her eyes widen. The wet slap of their joining throbbed behind her eyes, filling her until his face was the only thing she saw. Every nerve ending in her body felt like it was lodged between her thighs.

  Sweat beaded the curve of his cheek as he pushed them higher and higher, the muscles in his arms standing out like bands beneath the soft fabric of his sleeves. His thrusts grew harder and shorter, until he exploded and took her with him, grinding out his relief in an almost silent, “Damn.”

  *****

  Despite her aunt’s vast wealth, the candles were guttering by the time Honoria returned to the ball room. Smoke hung on the perfumed air and made Honoria’s eyes sting. She refused to think it might be anything more. Danton was gone. She didn’t delude herself into thinking they’d have more time. He was as easy to pin down as a jellied eel. Doubtless he’d show up at some other horribly inconvenient time, but she wasn’t going to waste the rest of the night thinking about him when he obviously didn’t give a fig about her.

  She picked through the leftover refreshments, savagely spearing anything even remotely edible with her fork. He’d never promised to spend eternity with her or tell her what he did when they weren’t together. He was free to come and go. She stabbed her fork into a lobster patty.

  A flash of golden-blond hair at the far end of the dining room caught her attention. It wasn’t Danton, but that didn’t stop her from feeling like she’d just been kicked. He wasn’t just well-endowed; the simple fact was that she liked him.

  Honoria dragged herself and a platter of prawn loaves into the ballroom where she found a spot close to one of the open windows. Eugenie danced by, holding on to a particularly tall and officious-looking man in regimental dress uniform. Her lips were rouged--the jade! Honoria looked around and surreptitiously bit hers to make them redder. Despite an equal share in their grandmother’s vast fortune, her sister was set on an advantageous marriage. Honoria’s gown was the latest kick, but Eugenie glittered in cloth of gold like she was dressed in money and her large, protuberant nose all but disappeared over a collar of diamonds.

  Honoria put down the platter and fanned herself vigorously. The drapes were open, but it did little to dispel the heat from the guttering tapers. She pulled at her bodice and directed the stream of fast-moving air down the front of her gown.

  “Lady Honoria Cavanaugh?”

  Honoria looked up—and up. If Robbie was a handsome god, this was a warrior angel with wicked green eyes and wavy black hair.

  He smiled at her, revealing a matched set of dimples. “Your pardon, mademoiselle. I am Michel, duc de Ganelon. I understand we share a common interest.”

  His introduction was almost as scandalous as Danton’s, but the hand he used to lift her fingers to his lips was hard and strong, and the bulge in his breeches was impressive.

  Intrigued despite herself, Honoria swayed in closer to the Frenchman. “And what interest is that, Monsieur le duc?”

  The Frenchman held his hand out and Honoria put her fingers on the back of his wrist. He led her out onto the terrace. “Voyeurism. I understand you like to watch,” his gaze swept her body and lingered on the juncture of her legs. “As do I.”

  Honoria swept her lashes down over her shock. “I don't know what you mean, monsieur.”

  “Don't play coy, mademoiselle. Servants talk and I pay for information. I'm interested in a female version of myself, as you can well imagine.”

  He reached out, cupped her breast through the thin fabric of her gown and slid his hand roughly down her belly. “Naughty,” he said, locking his hand over her still swollen mound. He squeezed just enough to make her wince and smiled when her thighs sprang open.

  “I hurt you,” he breathed. He leaned in closer and bent his lips to her ear. “But I have a treat to make up for it.”

  Honoria shivered, lips parting. “Do you, Monsieur le duc?”

  “Call me, Michel—mon cher, Honoria.”

  Putting a hand in the small of her back, he steered her down a discreet staircase into the gardens. Despite her aunt's exceedingly proper reputation, the walkways were ablaze with fairy lights and the whisper of conversation.

  “Are we going far?” she asked.

  Michel laughed softly and guided her down an unlit path to a little grotto tucked against the garden wall. He stopped her before she could step into the open and placed his fingers over her lips.

  “Come,” he whispered, gesturing her to an alcove.

  The bulge in his breeches was incredibly seductive. Despite her earlier tryst with Danton, Honoria drifted in closer. Michel sat on a small brick platform and pulled her down over him, lifting her skirts up out of the way.

  “Monsieur!”

  He spun her around so her back rested against him, and pulled her bodice down under her breasts. “Michel. Please. I insist.”

  “We are not talking of the same thing at all,” said Honoria, tugging her bodice back into place.

  “Have you already indulged, mademoiselle?” His laugh tickled the hair at her nape. “Your breasts are swollen.” He pinched down tightly, rolling her cloth-covered nipples into aching nubs.

  Honoria groaned, shoulders pushed back against his chest. The way his arms were crossed over her belly made it impossible to break free and he used his position ruthlessly, working her breasts until she thrashed, head beating against his shoulder. She came back to herself to find his palms cupped under her buttocks, two fingers from each hand buried in her throbbing depths.

  “No more!” she cried. “Please, Michel.”

  “You’re so hot, and well-used.” He lifted her up and pulled her swollen folds out around his ravaging cock. “Open for me, Honoria.”

  Every inch he forced into her burned. “Relax, mon ange. You will enjoy my attentions soon enough.”

  “Never!” Honoria lurched forward, kicking to escape him. “Release me!”

  His fingers dug into her neatly pinned hair. “Do not defy me—look at what I brought you to see.” He thrust up into her and swept an arm out, parting the heavy boughs.

  Slightly more than ten feet from her, two men crouched over Clarissa Burkett. It was obvious Clarissa was enjoying herself—squealing and moaning with a man between her thighs and another in her mouth. Honoria had never seen an acquaintance naked, and she was fascinated by Clarissa's overblown curves. She was so pink and white, so plush with her voluminous curves and large, bouncing breasts.

&nbs
p; Clarissa’s throat worked as the man using her pushed his cock in as far as it would go and ground the base of his cock into her face. He wasn’t wearing anything from the waist down, and his pasty white flanks flexed under Clarissa’s frenzied attentions.

  Balls slapped her chin loudly. “Open that mouth wide and suck it!”

  Clarissa’s legs flailed, heels drumming on the low-slung table as he abruptly pulled his cock from her lips, rolled her over and plowed into her ass with a short, violent thrust.

  “Be gentle!” she shrieked.

  “Be gentle? Everyone knows you like it rough.” Clarissa’s original lover still pumped between her thighs, his reddened length jerking up into her exposed cleft.

  “She has two cocks in her,” whispered Honoria, totally enthralled.

  Michel’s already substantial girth grew wider still. “She’s a hot little baggage,” he said, pinching Honoria’s nipples out as far as they would go.

  Honoria bit back a cry, thighs clenching down as he rode her up and down, legs flapping and bouncing. Her toes touched the ground and lifted off again.

  “You enjoy her pain,” he whispered, licking at the taut curve of her throat.

  “Yes.” The look on Clarissa’s face was more intoxicating than wine. She wanted to be the one making Clarissa squirm.

  “It’s too much,” Clarissa cried. Both of the men slid forward at the same time and her eyes rolled up, mouth hanging open as she panted furiously. “It’s too much!”

  Distracted by her cries, Honoria was caught off guard when the man wedged in Clarissa’s obscenely stretched rectum let out a hoarse cry and clenched his fingers in the soft flesh of her hips. His mouth hung open as he grunted and thrust, rubbing not just his cock, but his balls and thighs into her. He pulled out slowly leaving her cum-smeared hole hanging open like a well-used sock.

  The other man pumped and groaned, but nothing seemed to work. “She’s too loose!” he cried.

  The first man reached up and grabbed a candle from the ledge. Wax spattered on Clarissa and made her jump, legs kicking.