Chapter 10 #5
“Daddy,” he reminds me, his voice soft and playful.
“Daddy, then. Please stop,” I plead, looking up at him with sorrowful eyes.
“Very well, my dove, since you asked so prettily.” He releases my poor posterior, but it still aches and throbs with the memory of his touch.
“Do I… might I be allowed… to… touch you?”
Gregor laughs softly. “I have never seen you so shy and uncertain, Freya. I declare, I do believe I like this side of you.”
I am far from sure if I like it, but at least in this moment, I am happy to please him.
“Yes, of course you may.”
Permission granted, I sit up and scoot back to look at him.
His naked form—the first I have ever seen in its full glory—is better than I have imagined.
He is better than a sculpture with his perfectly formed muscles, strong shoulders, his broad chest with fine, dark hair, and his well-defined stomach.
“Well? Do I meet with your approval?” He smiles roguishly.
“Now you’re the one who is being impertinent,” I scold as I attempt to playfully smack his chest.
His Grace catches my hand easily. “Oho! I said you would find your way into mischief soon enough.”
Before I can protest or offer a word for my own defense, his mouth is crashing down upon mine.
Almost before I see it coming, I sense it, and raise my head for the onslaught.
These are no careful, gentle kisses. Instead, his lips bruise mine in a claiming embrace that leaves me quite spent by the time he is through.
And yet, I have never been happier.
“Naughty wench,” he scolds, his finger lightly flicking the taut peak on my breast. “Are you ready to plead for my forgiveness?” His eyes dance merrily, darkening in desire that matches my own.
“Never,” I vow solemnly.
“Very well then. We shall see who can outlast whom.”
Before I can even comprehend his words, he is lifting me up.
I catch a mere glimpse of his stiff manhood before he is setting me down upon it.
And when he has filled me—oh! I am breathless with the wonder of it, but before I can grow accustomed, his hands are upon my hips.
Wordlessly, he moves me until I understand the motion he desires me to mimic.
I move my hips, sliding up and back down his shaft. I am pleased it gives him evident pleasure, as I hoped. What I did not expect is the pleasure I derive from the act as well. The faster I move upon his shaft, the more my stomach tightens. My own wanton sex urges me to hasten.
I do not feel him move his hand, only his hard palm smacking against my backside. I go still at once and gasp, “Your Grace!”
“‘Daddy,’” he says, and I receive an equally smarting smack.
“Daddy,” I echo, though I frown when I say it.
“Do not stop,” he instructs. “But though you may not stop, you may beg pardon any time.”
I resume my motion, gliding up and down his shaft with ease, my movements made faster knowing at any moment, a stinging slap may fall. “Ow!”
“Pray, continue, wife. Might you have anything to ask me?”
I glare at his gloating face. “Is this how it is always to be? Playing these games?”
“We shall not have anything to play, dear wife, if you will apologize.”
But despite my scowl, there is a thrill in it, and I pinch my lips together tightly in refusal.
I ride him in a rhythm my body knows by instinct until the knot in my stomach demands release.
I move faster, no longer aware of the smacks he delivers except as fodder for my pleasure.
I have gotten into a swift cadence now— His Grace has moves his hands to hold my hips, seeming to have forgotten my chastisement.
I shall have to remember this for the future. That is the last thought I am capable of before I come undone. Lifting my head to the ceiling, my eyes shut tightly, I scream my joy to the heavens as a rush of warmth overtakes me.
Dimly, I am aware of Gregor grunting beneath me.
I am shaking when I fall atop him, and his arms come around me at once. We lay together for some time, panting with the most delicious exertion. It feels like an eternity before I am aware enough to move to his side.
At once, Gregor is alert and moves aside so that he can pull some of the bedcovers back. Then he shifts me until I am inside the cocoon of blankets. “Better, my love?”
“Yes, thank you.” I watch as he continues to fiddle with the bedcovers until he too can get inside. As soon as he does, I move closer, eager for his body to warm my own. “Do you think it is always like this?” I murmur sleepily.
“Like what, my darling?”
“This… this closeness I feel for you. Is that what it is like to be married? If I had known it was so, I would have done it long ago.” I yawn, and am so wearied from the day I cannot even trouble to cover it with my hand.
“I do not think so. If that were the case, it would not be special, would it?”
“I am certain you are right. Does it feel as good for you as it does for me?” I inquire, looking up at him. With my pleasure sated at last, and the warmth of his body, I feel safe and secure, but I also wish to know I have pleased him.
He smiles and lifts a hand to cup my face. “I would wager it feels even better for me, my lady.”
A sudden thought strikes me, and I frown.
“What is it, my pet? I intend our union to be a happy one, so if I must smack you and lie with you to keep you smiling, I shall never allow you to wear clothes again!”
I laugh despite myself. “You would never dare! The scandal would be too great!”
“Perhaps, but the money I shall save might be worth enduring the whispers.” He wags his eyebrows until I giggle.
I draw nearer and say, “I was only thinking… wondering… if you like it with me as well as… the others?”
“What others?”
I shrug. “I do not know their names, my lord. Only that…all men have others, do they not?”
“Yes, I suppose you are right. Look at me, Freya.”
My gaze leaps to his face.
“You were exquisite. Better than I have ever experienced—truly. I shall never lie to you, Wife. And for me, there shall never be another. Of that, you may be sure.”
I had not expected such a declaration, and it quite takes my breath away.
“I feel I must inquire… we have spoken of your child, and of my intentions. My duty,” he adds. “But I must know… the father…”
My throat constricts at the inquiry he leaves unasked.
I realize this too is something I owe him.
I lift my head so I may meet his gaze, refusing to hide, even if I might desire to.
“He was a son of a nobleman. I… we were friends when we were younger, and he was called to war. We wrote letters to one another while he was away, and when he returned home on leave…” Words desert me and I look at him helplessly, unsure of how to conclude.
“Did you love him?”
I draw in a deep breath and release it slowly. I fear the answer makes it sound even worse. “I suppose I did, in a way. He was my childhood friend, and I cared for him, but… I never felt for him as I… as I do for you.” My voice softens until the words are a whisper.
“Truly?” He pins me with a look that is quite stern, but when my stomach spasms, it is not unpleasant.
“Truly, my—Gregor.”
He smiles, and leans forward to press his head to mine.
“What I feel for you… I have never felt before.” I lower my gaze. “Before Lord Ashburn went back… he seemed to have a feeling that he would not return. He spoke most candidly of his desire… that is, he had never…” I blush, unable to finish.
“Shh, my pet. Never fear. You shall find no condemnation with me.” He lifts a hand to soothe away the sting of the shame upon my face. “I merely wondered if I need to worry about a man claiming—”
“No, my lord. He… he died shortly after he returned to the battlefield.” I pull away so I can look upon him as my teeth seize my lower lip. “And I soon discovered he left his gift with me.”
“I am sorry, my darling, for I am sure that must pain you.” He draws me close and I allow him to, quite at ease with my head against his chest. “I shall be a wonderful father, I assure you.”
“I do not doubt it, my lord.”
“Gregor,” he reminds me as he presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“I do not doubt it, Daddy,” I murmur into his chest.
His rich chuckle serenades my ears. “So much the better.”