Chapter 11 #2
I lean forward, not far enough apparently, because he places a palm between my shoulder blades and pushes me down until my breasts are pressed to the wooden surface.
“Pull up your skirts, wife,” he orders. “Let me see if you followed my instructions.”
Bent over the table, I gather the skirts of my dress around my hips, revealing my bare bottom. I know he can see the gleaming wetness of my pussy, and I get even wetter while he stands there, inspecting me.
I hear the rustle and shift of his clothing, the faint click of a fingernail against a button. Then the hot, blunt head of his cock forges straight into my slit. Its girth stretches me abruptly, and I let out a faint squeal.
“Easy, love,” he murmurs. “Relax that pretty cunt for me.”
I release a long, slow breath and focus on loosening my muscles.
Once he senses that I’m more at ease, he begins a steady rhythm, so forceful that I have to hold onto the table to stay in place.
My clit rubs against the table’s edge so perfectly that I swear my eyes roll up in my head.
I’m lust-drunk, sex-dazed, dizzy with the need to come.
Just as my arousal is building to a frenzy, my husband pulls out. “Stay there, exactly like that.”
Quietly he returns to his duties as the greenhouse keeper, leaving me bent across the table with my wet cunt exposed and waiting.
For a few minutes he occupies himself with various small tasks. Then he returns, grabs one cheek of my ass, and fucks me again, casually, like I’m a chore on his list of tasks to do.
I’m nearly at the peak when he abandons me to trim a few twigs off a miniature tree.
He ignores my whimper of protest, but I’m actually enjoying every minute of his teasing.
There’s a careless arrogance and a triumphant possession in the way he’s claiming me, and I can’t explain why I find it so fucking erotic.
Beresford returns to sheath himself in my slickness, giving a few slow thrusts before pulling out again.
“It’s such a pleasure having a willing cunt open to my use,” he comments, with a light smack on my rear. “What a pleasant diversion from my duties.”
“How long are you going to make me wait?” I whine.
“Just a little longer.” He throws me a naughty sidelong look. “Soon Chezney, my valet, will come down from the house to tell me that dinner is nearly ready so that I can wash up. It’s a habit of his. I wonder if you will still be quivering and begging for release when he arrives.”
“Oh fuck,” I whisper, half terrified and half aroused by the idea of us being interrupted.
Beresford laughs wickedly. “Shall I look out the north window and see if he’s on his way?”
“Yes,” I gasp.
He walks out of the room, his bare wet cock jutting over the top of his trousers. When he returns, he says, “No sign of him yet.” Then he sinks into me again, this time releasing a moan of enjoyment. “You’re so fucking wet.”
“Let me come this time,” I plead.
He ignores me, but I can tell by the shuddering of his breath that he’s nearing his limit.
“What if Chezney does walk in?” I say desperately. “He doesn’t want to see this. It’s wrong to shock him with such a display.”
“He has seen worse. But I will go and check again, to see if he’s coming.”
“No,” I sob, reaching back and grabbing for his cock. “Stay inside me, please, please…”
But he’s already pulling out, heading for the door.
I wait, dripping and burning and trembling. Then I arch my hips against the table, moaning at the friction against my clit. If he won’t give me satisfaction, I’ll take it.
Beresford returns just as I’m starting to hump against the wooden edge. “Naughty little wife.” He grabs my hair in one fist and drags my head back while he penetrates me so deep that I choke on a gasp. “Chezney is walking down from the house. Shall I finish inside you?”
“Yes, yes, Beresford, please.”
With one hand gripping my hand and the other planted on the small of my back, he starts rutting with a desperate force that sends me over the edge in seconds.
A brilliant light bursts in my brain, my body, my very fucking soul, and I shriek at the top of my lungs.
The sound fills the greenhouse, and Beresford’s voice joins mine with a roar of conquest as he ejects every bit of his cum into my pussy.
I barely have time to stand up and drop my skirts around my legs before I hear the greenhouse door open in the distance. By the time Chezney gets to the workroom, Beresford is casually lathering his hands with soap at the sink while I pretend to inspect the little tree he was pruning earlier.
“Dinner will be ready in half an hour, sir,” says Chezney, with a respectful nod.
“Thank you, Chezney,” Beresford replies. “We’ll be ready.”
The next few days are a delicious blur of sex, good food, music, and games.
I feel as if I’m living in a dream, one that’s too good to be true.
I do my best to relax and enjoy it, but deep at the core of my being lurks a pessimistic bitch who keeps whispering, “Just wait. Soon, it will all go wrong.”
On the fourth morning after our wedding day, as Beresford and I are eating breakfast, I realize that I still haven’t invited my family to visit. In fact, I’ve made no effort to communicate with them at all. Worse still, I’ve barely missed them. I’ve been so immersed in my own joy and pleasure.
I decide to mention it to Beresford and suggest that we have Mama and Anne up to the house for lunch or dinner.
But before I can broach the subject, he says, “As soon as we’re finished with breakfast, I’ll have to pack a bag.
I must travel to the city this morning and stay there for a couple of days to handle some unexpected business. ”
“Business?” I shoot him a look. “What business?”
“Affairs of a mercantile nature,” he replies.
“You’re so secretive when it comes to the source of your riches.” I tap his hand rebukingly with my coffee spoon.
“And you’re so curious.”
“Rightly so. You said we would be partners. Owners of everything, together.”
“And so we are. When I return, I will provide you with more information about my business ventures. Can your gorgeous brain wait that long for satisfaction?”
“I suppose.” I lean toward him and purse my lips for a kiss, and he indulges me with a long, languid one that turns me to melted sugar. When he finally ends the kiss, I have to blink to clear my thoughts.
“I’d like have my sister over to visit while you’re gone,” I say.
“Invite anyone you like,” he replies. “Enjoy the house, have fun, and be sure you feed your guests well. I’ll show you where I keep the money so you can give some to Mrs. Nanterre. She and her team will purchase anything you need for entertaining.”
“You’re going to show me your riches?”
“Why not? As you say, we’re partners.”
The suspicion I was beginning to feel recedes immediately. I’m beginning to realize that Beresford is very good at knowing when I need reassurance. Or maybe he simply excels at diverting me from uncomfortable topics.
Carrying my coffee mug, I follow him upstairs. I’m very familiar with our bedroom and the game parlor, of course, and I’ve been in the other rooms of the north wing, but I never saw any treasure or chests of money.
Beresford brings me into his study and takes a ring of keys from a drawer in his desk. Then shows me a recess hidden behind a painting, which he unlocks with a bronze key.
“I keep coins and bank notes here for easy, habitual access,” he informs me. “Not too much at once, mind you, since this is the most obvious place for a thief to look.”
“An expert on thieving, are you?” I nudge his arm with a smirk.
He laughs a little. “You might say that I understand the mind of a thief. As I was saying, this compartment has money for daily expenses, entertaining and such. I have other hiding places for more significant savings, and for the jewels.”
Our next stop is a simple broom closet with a false wall at the back.
Once Beresford inserts a silver key into the tiny lock, the panel opens into a vault big enough for one person to stand inside.
The space contains shallow, built-in cabinets with glass fronts.
Each compartment is lined with velvet and contains a piece of fine jewelry or a single gemstone.
The final hiding spot is at the end of the north hall. A rug conceals a sliding floor panel, which hides a reinforced metal door. Beresford has to use three keys for that compartment. Inside are several bags and chests full of coins and more bank notes.
“That’s the extent of my fortune.” He relocks the vault door, slides the floor panel back into place, and kicks the rug over it all. “Except this magnificent treasure, of course.” He smacks my rear playfully and I squeal.
Beresford pulls me close, aligning the front of his body with mine and cupping my chin with his large hand. “I want you to enjoy yourself in my absence, in whatever way you like. There are only two rules.”
“Oh, really?” I turn my face to kiss his palm. “And what are they?”
“One—if you host a sex party, you may pleasure yourself to the sight of others, but no one else may touch you. You’re mine.”
“I crave no touch but yours,” I assure him.
Beresford smiles briefly, but the expression fades as he holds up the ring of keys. “I’m giving you this. You may use it to open anything in the house, except for one door.”
A slow chill of understanding rolls through my body. I already know which door he means.
“There’s a blue door in the south wing which is private. Not something I wish to share.” He separates a small gold key from the other keys on the ring. “This is the key to the blue door. Do not use it.”
“As you wish,” I say.
Perhaps something in my manner reveals my heightened interest in that key and the door to which it belongs. He’s about to place the entire ring of keys in my palm, but at the last second he pulls them back.
His voice takes on a deeper, more daunting timbre than ever before. “Sybil, if you open the blue door, we are done.”