Free Bad Kitty by Debra Glass

a useless gesture.
    He had fucked her and left her without so much as a word and now, she felt stupid and alone and used.
    Naked.
    She clenched her fists so tightly her nails bit into her palms. The hateful bastard!
    Eyeing the bed, she stormed toward it, snatched off the sheet and wiped her crotch clean with it.
    The doorhandle rattled and Kitty gasped, whirling, clutching the stained sheet to her chest.
    Mrs. Bush entered Bram’s suite of rooms, her face set and grim—but Kitty’s gaze riveted to the neatly folded clothes in the housekeeper’s arms. Panic surged.
    “You have been dismissed. Clothe yourself and leave immediately.”
    * * * * *
     
    When she finally closed the door to her own bedroom in her uncle’s house, only then did Kitty shed the first tear. “Fool!” she called herself, swatting the tears away.
    She would not cry. Not over a fiend like Bram Barclay.
    After all, she was the one who had gone to his estate to gather material for her article. Well, she had gotten information and more. Perhaps she could save some other poor creature the misfortune she had experienced at his hands.
    Kitty slid into her chair, the soreness between her legs a painful reminder of what had transpired earlier this morning. She sighed. There was no time to dwell on what she had lost. She had an article to write.
    She withdrew her paper, pen and ink and set to work. The words flowed as never before as she told the tale of the innocent servant and the dastardly duke’s son, even comparing him to the Marquis de Sade in his cruelty.
    Without another tear dropping, she detailed everything from the beginning of her service to Bram until she was dismissed by Mrs. Bush. Kitty felt as if she were outside herself, watching the events of her own life as she folded the finished article and slid it into an envelope.
    After sealing it, she stood and made her way down the stairs and to the post office. The sooner Alistair Allenby’s article was in print, the better. All of England would know the truth about Bram and his reputation would be blackened even further.
    Anger and hurt vied for prominence as she dropped the letter in the box and set off on foot back to her house.
    She had hoped to feel some sense of triumph upon penning the article but instead, she felt empty inside.
    His words echoed in her head. The feel of his palm landing time and again with only the thin barrier of her drawers preventing his skin from touching hers rolled through her in waves. She inhaled sharply when she recalled how it had felt to have him inside her, filling her, stretching her, his pounding thrusts nailing her to the floor with bruising force.
    The birds twittering in the trees faded from her hearing. The muddy lane blurred. Kitty’s heart twisted. Mrs. Bush had warned her not to harbor any hopes about Bram.
    But wait! That was ridiculous. Kitty refused to believe she had done anything other than gather fodder for her article. She did not care for him! He had proven himself deserving of the rotten reputation he held. Stripping down to her drawers and bending over, submitting to be spanked had only been done under the guise of research. Besides, there would have been little she could have done about him taking her virginity. Doubtless, he would have raped her if she had refused.
    But then the memory of how he had hesitated and of how she, herself, had taken him in her own hand to guide him to her channel flooded her thoughts. Heat rolled up spine as she turned onto the lane that led to her house.
    As she stepped through the front gate, she stopped short at the sight of a massive black destrier hitched to the post outside her house.
    Intuitively Kitty knew the horse belonged to none other than Bram Barclay.

Chapter Six
     
    What could he possibly want here? Kitty’s first thought was to flee but then she decided she would slip in through the servants’ entrance and eavesdrop. Her plan was short-lived. As she neared the house, the door flung open and