Chapter 2 #2
He set her on her feet after he’d kicked the door closed behind them.
Before he realized what he was doing, he pinned her against him as his lips crashed down on hers.
The small peck they’d shared after speaking their vows hadn’t been enough.
As soon as he was able to whisk her away, he had brought her straight back to their home and told her to dress for their wedding night even though it was still light out.
What he had planned for her would take hours.
When she parted her lips, he swept his tongue inside her mouth, tasting the champagne they’d had at their wedding breakfast. To his surprise, she matched his intensity, clutching at the collar of his shirt as she returned his kiss with unexpected fervor.
“Stand before the fire,” he ordered, forcing himself to step back from her before he threw her on the bed and claimed her too quickly. He poured a measure of brandy in his glass and took a seat in a wingback chair facing the flames.
Olivia hesitated only briefly before complying, moving to position herself where he’d instructed. Victor studied her with undisguised appreciation, allowing himself to truly look at the woman who was now his wife.
“Remove your nightdress,” he commanded.
Her eyebrows rose. “What?”
“Do you require me to tell you again?” he asked firmly, hiding his desperation to see what was now his. The body he would pleasure and train.
She stared at him, challenge and uncertainty warring in her eyes. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, she reached for the sides of her night rail. “As you command . . . Victor.”
“Your Grace,” he corrected, maintaining his composure despite the surge of desire her compliance sent through him. “We aren’t in conversation. When I am instructing you in such matters, you shall refer to me as ‘Your Grace.’”
Her nostrils flared, but she nodded. “As you command, Your Grace.”
Victor kept his expression impassive, though satisfaction and desire surged through him at her words. She was testing the waters, wading her way through this new dynamic between them.
Olivia pulled the night rail over her head and let it fall to the floor beside her.
His wife stood before him, naked in the firelight, her chin lifted.
Magnificent wasn’t a strong enough word to describe her body.
It was more vibrant and alive than any painting could capture.
Victor allowed his gaze to travel over her deliberately, claiming every inch with his eyes.
The swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the nest of curls between her thighs.
She was all his to protect, to guide, to cherish.
“Turn,” he commanded. “Slowly.”
She flattened her lips, but obeyed, rotating with careful grace. Giving him a view of her full, rounded bottom, she completed the circle to face him again.
“Come here,” he instructed, his voice rough with controlled desire.
Olivia approached where he sat, stopping just beyond his reach.
“Closer,” Victor commanded. “Kneel.”
“I don’t kneel for anyone,” she said, a flash of her earlier defiance returning.
Victor leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “You will kneel for me.”
The silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken challenge. Then, as if reaching a decision, Olivia sank to her knees before him.
“Good girl,” he said softly, giving her a small earned token of praise.
A flush spread across her skin at his words, her eyes widening slightly as if surprised by her own reaction. Victor noted the response with satisfaction. Praise affected her deeply, as he had suspected it would.
“Surrender can be its own form of power,” Victor said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentler than before.
Olivia’s brow furrowed. “How can submission be powerful?”
“Because it is a choice,” Victor explained, his finger tracing the line of her jaw. “One that here, between us, means trust. I will guide you, protect you, and in return, you will accept my authority. And the intense pleasure that follows.”
The words hung between them, weighted with meaning. Victor didn’t trust easily, and he believed his new bride was much the same.
He sat back in his chair, studying her kneeling form. “Touch yourself for pleasure,” he instructed.
Her eyes widened, comprehension dawning in their hazel depths. “You intend to watch?”
“I shall do as I please,” he replied calmly, “and I can show you what happens if you make me repeat my instruction.”
She cupped her breast with hesitant fingers. “This way, Your Grace?”
Victor’s jaw tightened, desire coiling within him. “Continue. Remember, any reluctance or disobedience will merit correction.”
A tremor passed through her at his declaration, but she grew bolder, circling her nipple until it pebbled beneath her touch. She caught it between thumb and forefinger, drawing forth a soft intake of breath.
“Attend to your other breast,” Victor instructed, his control fraying at the edges. “Show me what brings you satisfaction.”
Olivia obeyed, her unoccupied hand rising to lavish attention on her neglected breast. Her spine arched subtly, head tilting back before she recollected herself and recaptured his gaze.
“Well done, little one,” he praised, the endearment falling from his lips.
The softening of her eyes at the name made his chest tighten with unexpected tenderness.
“Now lower,” he directed.
Her fingertips traced a meandering path down her torso until she reached the thatch of hair between her thighs. She paused, challenge kindling in her expression.
“Do not test my patience, Olivia,” Victor cautioned, leaning forward until mere inches separated them. “Widen your stance and touch yourself. This is your last warning.”
For a heartbeat, rebellion flashed in her gaze. Then, she opened her legs, each inch intentional, revealing herself to him. A sound caught between a gasp and a moan escaped her lips as her fingers found her most intimate flesh.
“You’re wet, aren’t you, little one?” he asked, his voice softening even as desire roughened it.
“Yes,” she whispered, the single syllable barely audible.
“Yes, what?” He raised an eyebrow, awaiting the proper acknowledgment.
“Yes, Your Grace.” Her voice was steadier now, acceptance beginning to replace resistance.
He inclined his head in approval. “Is that the speed you use when you aim to find your release?”
Her fingers located her pearl, encircling it. She increased her pace and worked herself with mounting urgency, moving her hips in a complementary rhythm as her eyes closed.
“Look at me,” Victor commanded. “I’m allowing you to experience this pleasure, and you will look at me while you do so.”
Olivia’s eyes locked with his, vulnerability laid bare as her fingers moved in increasingly rapid circles. With her free hand, she returned attention to her breast, squeezing more firmly now.
Her breathing fragmented into short, sharp pants as her hips rocked faster. Victor inclined closer, but he forced himself to refrain from touching her. Not yet. First, she needed to understand that her pleasure was his to grant or deny.
“You will not surrender to release until I give permission,” he informed her.
A whimper of frustration broke from her as she fought to comply, movements growing erratic, thighs quivering with the effort of denial.
“Please,” she whispered.
“What is it you want, Olivia? Use your words.” He took a nonchalant sip of his brandy, though his body was far from calm.
“Please, Your Grace . . . may I come?” She spoke through clenched teeth, as if her pride were challenged.
He allowed her to hover on the precipice for several exquisite moments, watching desperation build in her expression. “No,” he said simply. “Stop what you are doing and stand before me.”
His fiery wife scowled at him, but she did as he instructed, which was the important part. She clenched her fists at her sides, staring at him with enough frustration that he thought she just might take a swing at him.
And if she did, she’d be bent over his lap in moments to be thoroughly spanked.
“Come sit on my knee, little one.” He swirled the amber liquid in his snifter before taking another drink, while she settled her naked bottom onto his leg.
She looked at him expectantly, irritation marring her perfect heart-shaped face. And she was breathtaking.
“Are you displeased, my wife?”
Olivia folded her arms over her chest, much like a spoiled child. He would need to guide her past that behavior soon, even if the sight made his cock throb painfully within his breeches.
“No, Your Grace.”
Victor downed his brandy, set the glass aside, and then grabbed the back of her neck. “You shall never lie to me. Do you understand?”
She nodded, then quickly blurted, “Yes, Your Grace.”
“When I ask you a question, you will always tell me the truth. Lie to me again, and I will need to correct your behavior. Now . . . are you displeased?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” she replied through gritted teeth.
“And why is that, little one?” He softened his tone, ensuring she understood he wouldn’t be angry with her as long as she spoke honestly.
She drew a deep breath, and there were daggers in her eyes. “Because I would like to find release.”
Victor traced his fingers along her thigh, his wife instinctively spreading her legs wider in response.
“Are you a virgin, or did you partake in more than painting with your art friend?” He couldn’t hold back the disdain when he spoke the last word. As much as he shouldn’t, he hated the idea of someone else touching what was his to protect. And he would ensure that no one would ever do so again.
Olivia’s breath came in short pants as his fingers brushed along her damp seam. “I . . . I . . . am no longer a virgin.”
Victor released a low growl. He had assumed as much, and he forced himself to push his jealousy aside. “I am going to erase the memory of anyone but me from your mind, little one.”
Her breath caught, and her eyelids hooded with desire. She wasn’t unaffected by his words. Good.