Chapter 15
“ W -who is there?” She called, hoping that it was an animal or a rat that might have squeezed in through one of the broken glass panels to take shelter from the storm itself.
The shuffling was followed by a potted something or another breaking and muttered cursing.
Cordelia froze in place, realizing that she was not alone in the greenhouse. At least she did not have to listen to the way the rain was almost echoed all around her.
Dorian walked around the corner in a huff; his gaze narrowed as he walked with purpose toward her, grabbed her by the elbow, and started to pedal her out of the greenhouse swiftly. “Have you lost your mind? You are not supposed to be here.”
“Neither are you!” Cordelia dug her heels in as she was pulled toward the exit. She could not go back out into the storm. She could not. “Dorian! Stop! I cannot go back out there.”
He must have been the one who broke the chains. If it was off-limits, why would he do that? What was happening?
“I told you that this place was expressly forbidden, and here you are.”
“The door was open!” Cordelia protested. “And you are in here as well! I was only looking for you! You left in the middle of the party; it was quite rude!”
She managed to wrench her arm out of his grasp and took two steps back into the greenhouse so that he could not pull her out so easily.
Dorian huffed and shook his head. “Rude? You have no right to speak to me about rudeness.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“The man that you were interested in has been invited to my house not once, but twice now… paraded in front of my face both times and you expect me to take it with grace? I cannot presume your motives, but I daresay that rude would cover a large portion of it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Lord Debonaire, correct? The man you claimed to be interested in when I asked you to marry me,” Dorian said harshly, acquisition dripping off of every word.
Cordelia recoiled, trying to formulate words that would diffuse the situation, but she was failing. She floundered, trying to explain herself or deny the accusations.
“No, you do not understand, I–”
“What was it that you insisted upon? No lies ,” Dorian hissed, too close to her face for her to be unaffected by his words.
“Matthew is… he is my friend, my cousin .” Cordelia attempted to explain. She ought to put more distance between the pair of them but she could not. She was always so powerless the moment that he was close to her like this.
“I do not care for the sound of his name on your lips,” Dorian continued, his words forced through his teeth. “The only man whose name should be on your tongue is mine.”
Cordelia’s lip curled. “Why? You certainly do not seem to have any true desire for me! You run hot and cold! I never know where you stand from one day to another!”
“You are my wife, and you belong to me!” Dorian said in a low, warning tone. “You have defied my orders, time and time again. You are the only person that I have ever indulged and yet… you are still defiant.”
He straightened, a strange sense of calm seeming to settle over him.
“You have defied my orders, and for that, you need to be punished.” Dorian closed the distance between them, towering over her as his lip curled upward into something akin to a smirk. “As this is your first, I shall allow you the choice of punishments. You can either go inside and tidy up my personal library, or… I can spank you.”
Cordelia’s eyes widened and her heart fluttered. “You cannot possibly be serious.”
But he appeared to be perfectly serious. He did not speak again, and he did not back down either. Dorian’s gaze was heavy on her as he waited expectantly for her reply.
It was harder for her to force the words past her lips than she had originally presumed. “Well… let me think about it. I-I am not a very bookish lady… and I much prefer being out of doors.”
The slight widening of Dorian’s eyes was the only indication of his surprise.
“I think I shall accept the spanking,” Cordelia said with faux bravado and crossed her arms over her chest.
She might grow fond of surprising her husband.
“Oh, did I just call your bluff, or?”
The thunder and lightning cracked loud overhead, and she jolted. Dorian took the opportunity to close the distance between them. He spun her around, grabbing her hand and placing it flat on the dust and soil-covered table beside her. Her fingers spread, bracing herself against the sudden hitch in her breathing. Dorian grabbed her skirts and flipped them up over her hips without a preamble. Roughly, he kicked her feet wider so that she was arched away from the table with her legs parted—exposed and wholly vulnerable. Her heart started to race. Was she supposed to be doing something? Why was he not touching her? It was something so wholly strange to know that his hands had been here before, but nobody had ever… looked at her so intimately.
For a moment, time stood still. The air around her froze as her skin buzzed with anticipation. Why was he not doing anything? Did she need to?
All thoughts emptied from her head as his fingers trailed lightly over the curve of her rear, feeling the soft skin there and seeming to savor each one of her little reactions. She glanced at him over her shoulder, but Dorian’s eyes cut sharply to her as he clicked his tongue. She snapped her head back center—and then he spanked her.
It took the breath right out of her. She could no longer focus on what was directly in front of her. Any remaining oxygen was trapped in her lungs as he spanked her again. Such a strange sensation. The smack of his palm hurt, but only a little—and she knew he was using a fair amount of force from the way that her body jolted with each one. The sharp bite was followed by a curling tendril of desire that left her wet, sliding down her thighs.
“Count them for me. I think fifteen will suffice,” Dorian commanded.
“Wh–”
Another slap, firmer than the ones before it.
“If you cannot follow a simple instruction, Little Flower, I will start over.” Dorian’s voice lowered until it was almost heavy.
Another slap and a moan left her lips before she could bite it back. With each hit she felt her mind clearing, settling into the tantalizing sting and knowing that she could endure it. There was no more stress about what might or might not be happening inside the estate. The sounds of the storm overhead slipped into the background. It was all second to the sound of Dorian’s palm against her skin and how intense her desire was becoming.
“F-four,” she whispered.
“What was that?”
“Four!” She panted—and was rewarded with another.
“So obedient, pretty Little Flower.” Dorian paused, and her back arched to make his job just that much easier.
By the time he finished, her legs were trembling, and she was coated in a fine sheen of sweat.
Dorian trailed his fingertips over the reddened skin, dipping between her thighs to find just how soaked she was. She did not dare move lest he stop his exploration. All he had promised her was the spanking and nothing more, but she could not allow it to be over, she wanted to feel his fingers inside of her once more—she was so keenly aware of how empty she was. He had awoken a craving within her in the library that day, the same one that had been plaguing her dreams ever since. If only he could be like this, this attuned to her body all of the time. However, she was not certain that she would be able to truly survive that much-concentrated attention.
His fingers dipped down, spreading the wetness over his fingers and parting her, her legs shuddering as he brushed against the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. She felt overheated. The cold night air could not touch her; she was practically overrun with need.
“So responsive, I think that you liked your punishment a little bit too much, hm?” Dorian teased in a husky voice, not expecting an answer.
He pushed two fingers inside of her easily, and she nearly collapsed onto the grimy table. It did not even register to be bothered by the lack of cleanliness or to insist on a change of location. She had never wanted anything as badly in her life as she needed him to bring her pleasure again.
“Please, Dorian–”
“Say my name like that again, Little Flower, and I will give you the world.”
Her head swam. “Dorian,” she whispered again as he fit a third finger inside of her. She was so aroused that it was sliding down her thighs, if she thought that she could have gotten away with moving, she would have. He pulled his fingers from her, spreading the collection of her over her reddened cheeks with a low groan.
“Do you belong to me, my Little Flower?” Dorian asked, his voice sounded far off, like he was in a trance.
“Yes!” Cordelia answered instantly and without thought.
“Above all others, that is what you vowed to me, is it not?” Dorian continued, his fingers dipping between her thighs like he was going to enter her, and teasing her along the slit instead. She tried to chase the movement with her hips, wanting more but he did not relent. “Your body, your heart, every part of you belongs to me. Does it not?”
“Yes!” Cordelia panted. She turned to look over her shoulder at him in a clear challenge. “If it is proof you need, then claim me , take me as your wife as you should have long ago.”
Dorian stood behind her, the bulge in the front of his trousers a whole other sort of friction as he brushed against her. His hands undid the laces, never breaking eye contact with her as her breathing hitched. She shifted her hands to grip the edge of the table, unsure of what exactly was coming next—until he freed himself. Her eyes widened. She had been told where his manhood would go, she logically knew that it would replace where his fingers were… but there was no way that he would fit.
An almost cruel smirk twisted his features as he registered her thought, and lined himself center with her, his hips rocked forward—and the stretch was instant. Cordelia started to bow forward, her knees weakening only to be caught around the middle with one arm, the other banding over her chest to pull her back against him, her hands wrapping around his forearm as he pushed further into her.
The bright burst of discomfort only lasted a moment, covered by the incredibly full feeling of him filling her. She tried to adjust, to prepare herself, but the friction of his open breeches against her raw, puffy skin was driving her mad—and then he started to move.
“God, you are so tight,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “You feel better than I imagined… better than I dreamed.”
The world simply disappeared around her. He started slowly, kissing her cheek and urging her face back to his own so that he could kiss her, his tongue tangling with her own as he claimed her, deeply and thoroughly. Her legs threatened to give out entirely were it not for the strength of his arms.
He shifted, lifting her knee onto the table and bending her more fully over it. Her dress would be ruined, and it did not even occur to her to care. She could not stop the stream of sounds that left her, only half with her awareness as he gathered her skirts in his hands to use as leverage, the slapping skin against skin seemed to echo through the stillness of time as he thrust inside of her.
“Come for me,” Dorian urged, his voice thick with command as he felt her tighten around him. “I want to feel you. I want to watch you unravel in my arms.” Had she known that this existed, that she could feel like this, all of their arguments would have been solved far more simply. This was a whole new world for her to explore and experiment with. Grunting, Dorian bent over her, his hand wrapping just under her lifted thigh to pinch that swollen nub that he had been circling earlier—and the cry of pleasure should have rattled the glass walls as she shattered around him, squeezing tightly around him, making his movements stutter as Dorian’s hand tightened around her hip. Heat pulsated deeply inside of her, and Dorian stilled.
His hands ran the length of her back, up to her shoulders, to pull her back so that he could kiss her once more. “You feel so perfect around my cock, Little Flower,” he spoke between kisses. “Mine, and only mine.”
“Only yours,” She echoed mindlessly as he slipped from her, and she could feel their combined pleasure sliding down her legs.