Chapter 6 #2
“What do you mean?” asked Edmund, his voice tight and loud as the rumbles transferred to her.
“Insufficiently wet,” the man said. “Too tight.”
“Edmund,” she whimpered. “Do something. I can’t…”
“Do you trust me?” he asked, sounding as if he was just as distraught as she by the turn of events. That couldn’t be possible, but she appreciated his consideration.
Did she trust him? Abandoning her after their hasty marriage had made her silently rail against him for years, but she trusted him.
He’d stepped in and married her on the off chance that Crispin had put a baby in her during their brief romance.
Edmund had disappointed her greatly, but he was an honorable man.
“I do,” she said, failing to recognize how those words echoed the vows they’d made all those years ago, under duress.
“I’m going to touch you,” he said, bringing their hands lower on her belly together. He’d reached the place her hair began and drew their fingers over it.
She wondered what he was thinking, what that little pelt felt like under his big fingers as they guided hers down and down. She wanted to tilt her pelvis to meet his touch sooner, but he held her so firmly that she was helpless, like a kitten in her mama’s mouth.
“Are you going to get wet for me?” he asked in a low rumble within that mask, as if three other men weren’t standing by and stroking their cocks as the Wakes learned how to be married.
“What?” she wheezed as she felt their fingers trip over the top of her cleft.
“Are you going to get that little pussy wet for me?”
“For you?”
He took their fingers lower and let them run over her nub and down to her hole. “For me. Other men might use this, but you’re still mine.”
Somehow, the hand across her midsection had found its way to her breast, which fit entirely within his hold. Ann looked down, taking in how completely she was in her husband’s possession, and felt the first tremors of pleasure in her abdomen.
“Not yet,” he said sternly.
“You sound like a father,” she said wryly, thinking of that man who had wrangled a marquess for his ruined daughter of inconsequential birth.
“I’m not your father,” said Edmund, bringing their fingers back up to slide over that straining nub.
And then he moved their hands in a circle to tease all around where she wanted contact the most.
“I’m your husband.”
Ann drew breath so fast she could barely hear the end of the word.
What was he saying? That he wanted to…be married to her?
Publicly, before his Grand Buck brothers?
His hold suggested nothing platonic and everything carnal, and she hoped he would explain his meaning, but he simply flexed his thighs to spread her legs further apart.
“Open for me,” he grunted, his body moving beneath hers. She needed to feel him right on her nub, petting it until she exploded as she had done so many nights while alone in Shropshire, but he pulled their fingers back and caressed her lips.
“Edmund, please,” she whispered, feeling more needy than ever before. He had her pleasure within his power and he was choosing to deny it!
“Is my wife going to get soft for me?”
He had to know what he was doing to her based on how she squirmed in his lap, how she chased the feeling of their fingers. She was so under his control that she barely registered the other men in the room or the sounds of music nearby. Or that her husband’s cock was hardening below her.
“I’ll be good for you,” she said tentatively, still worried that he might toss her aside for another fourteen years if she made some wrong move.
“Are you going to let me inside?” he asked, guiding their fingers to trace the entrance of her channel. Around they went, setting her nerves afire. She wished he’d just do the thing and make her combust, but Edmund seemed patient. Meanwhile, she wanted him hard and fast!
“I want you inside,” she said, her voice shaky and pleading as Edmund fit their index fingers together and set them at the entrance of her channel.
“We’ll go in together,” he said, pushing slowly in.
How could there be any doubt that she was wet enough to take the Bucks? Their fingers slid to the first knuckle with no resistance, and Ann’s abdomen flexed on its own as tremors began from within.
“Not yet,” Edmund crooned. “Breathe through it. Don’t go shattering on me and tightening up. We need to open this little pussy up.”
Ann closed her eyes, trying to remain in control as her body begged for release on their fingers. Would that she could rock and erupt as she longed to, but she needed to be good for Edmund. Her husband.
“A bit further now,” he said, pressing them inside until they could go no deeper, their hands tangled between her thighs. “Look at us, sweetheart.”
She wanted to mewl, roll around in his endearment, but she forced herself to focus on the sensation.
And then he moved his thumb. Oh, god, he must have tupped every woman in London to know how to play her body like the notes drifting from behind that tapestry.
Edmund stroked so lightly over her bump that Ann had to grip the armrests of that throne to keep herself from collapsing entirely into orgasm.
“You know what that feeling is, Annie?”
He was too cruel, she thought as her nails dug into the chair at his endearment. He’d been storing up fourteen years of pleasure only to inflict it on her all at once — precisely at the moment other men were supposed to impregnate her!
“No?”
“No what, Annie?”
“No…husband?”
“You don’t know what your pussy is doing?” he asked. “You haven’t stroked your little kitty cat while alone in your bed?”
Ann rocked rhythmically in his lap now, unconcerned with appearing too eager or desperate for contact. She was. At this moment, she would crawl over glass just to keep her husband’s expert hand on her.
Edmund withdrew their fingers from Ann’s hole and directed their hands down in a quick slap on her nub before she knew what happened.
“Urgh!” she cried out, spasming around nothing from the pleasurable pain.
“I repeat myself: did you touch my kitty while I was away?”
Ann gasped. “You left me,” she cried accusingly, “you left me for years, frolicked here without me, and gave another woman your child. All the while, I — yes — had to touch my quim alone.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, massaging her breast, just short of being too hard on her tender flesh and straining nipple. “But I didn’t want to hurt you, not when I’m so big and you’re so small.”
“Show me you’re sorry,” said Ann grumpily, tired of being ordered to control the orgasm he was so adeptly bringing to the surface. “And I’m not small.”
Edmund brought their combined index and middle fingers together at the entrance of her channel. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, guiding them inside.
“Oh, no,” she wheezed, feeling the considerable stretch from her arse to her hard nub. Ann felt as if her channel were being tested. Tested for birthing her husband’s baby.
Edmund stilled his movement. “Do you need us to stop, Annie?” he asked, nuzzling her hair with the snout of that odd mask.
Ann looked between her legs, where those fingers were stuffed within her, splitting her quim in a way that almost hurt. Then she glanced at the three Bucks, all with their eyes locked on her pussy, their club-like cocks in hand. She’d needed to be stretched for these men to fit there.
“Do it,” she rasped, bucking to get his hands moving again. “Open me.”
“You’re going to let my brothers inside like a good girl, are you?” he asked, pushing their fingers deeper into her channel.
She whimpered when their digits traced over a spot that felt like it ran to some deeper nerves, some well of pleasure she’d never tapped before. Why had Edmund denied her this for so long while having a right to use her body as he wished?
But he didn’t wish, she reasoned as he stroked over that spot expertly and made her muscles tremble as he tested her limits.
He’d made the choice to say his vows and never see her again.
And now he was going to give Ann to these other men rather than impregnate her himself.
Once again, he was providing what she needed but withholding himself.
But it was hard to rail at him when his brother Bucks were standing by, ready to fuck and fill her.
“Yes, husband,” she said in a soft voice, gazing at each of those three masked men, then at their ready cocks.
“Then I suppose we should get you properly wet, shouldn’t we?” he asked before pressing their fingers into a place that felt spongy and swollen and like it might make her have an accident all over the floor in front of these sophisticated London men.
“Oh no,” she moaned, rocking all the while as she ascended to some place she never knew existed. She was trying to fight her own body’s reaction, but the urge to keep going and see what lay on the other side was too powerful.
“Get that pussy soaked for my brothers,” Edmund growled. “Opening you up for them. Opening my wife’s hole for them to breed.”
The words and a firm stroke along that spot combined to break down Ann’s defenses. Her body went rigid, and she bore down on the armrests she was holding as her body broke in ways she couldn’t have commanded, even if she knew the words for what was happening.
She clamped down on their fingers and rubbed her nub against the side of Edmund’s hand reflexively as liquid poured from within her. She had no way to stop it, no wish to break the flow of it as she spasmed endlessly in her husband’s hold.
Despite that, he stroked that place through the pleasure, bringing her back again and again until she cried out as her overused nerves protested.
Edmund pulled their fingers from her clasp and pushed his mask up to suck the liquid from their hands. The feeling of his tongue on her fingertip made Ann jolt as she imagined what he’d feel like feasting between her thighs.
“Delicious,” he said, bringing his mask back into place. “Now, let’s get you a baby.”