Chapter 12 #2
He slammed back into his body, quelling the awful urge to do his wife harm. He was better than this, damnation. She deserved better on her bloody wedding night. He’d not initiated his mother’s many virgins in such crass manner as he now treated his wife. Fuck!
Milton slumped atop Elizabeth, the beast fled his breast, his spirit dead. He could not move. He barely breathed.
“Baron,” she spoke at last, her tone this time devoid of judgment. “Clearly I have provoked you, as I’ve done so oft before.”
He made no attempt to respond.
“Rule number three, do not goad, was it not, sir?” She paused. “Milton?”
He only nuzzled her nape, inhaling her scent, so sweet.
“Jasper?” She timidly spoke his name. “Are you … alright?”
“Fuck, Lizzie.” He exhaled the expletive hot onto her skin. “My mother was right.” He sucked in his next breath, returning to himself. “I don’t deserve a woman filled with your fire and light.”
“You don’t deserve me,” she agreed. “But you have me.”
He ceased to breathe.
“So what will you do with me, husband?”
Milton lifted his head and met his wife’s eyes with raw determination. “I am going to pleasure you like you’ve never been pleasured before, woman.”
***
And he did. For Elizabeth was being eaten alive, every inch of flesh kissed, bit, lapped, and laved. This was what Li’s maids had meant when they’d told her Jasper Audrey was magnificent.
He played her like a fiddle, trite as that might sound, for her body was, in truth, his instrument.
He began a slow, surging tempo, attuning her nerves to his touch as he stroked her breasts into peaks.
Heat ignited a blaze deep inside her groin, for the man did not cease, though she begged him for release.
“Not yet, Lizzie.” He dipped his head to her bosom again.
“Wait.” He inhaled a nipple, suckling with lazy vigor, as though he’d all the time in the world when she had no patience, no sanity left at all.
Her senses screamed for more, now, while his hand at her other breast plucked a pulsing pizzicato.
Until he released her nipple to the air—at last!
—then bent his head to devour the other.
A drop rolled down Elizabeth’s hot face. Did she weep? Did she care? The sounds emanating from her throat rang more animal than human in her ears.
“Darling,” Milton teased as he released her aching bud. “Your impatience is a treat, your tears a delicacy, the gift of defeat.” He sampled her damp cheeks. “I cannot wait to sink myself inside you, but you must be ready for me first. Slow down, my sweet.”
Elizabeth was well past waiting. She pulled him to her, only to have him roughly shove her arms above her head.
“No touching,” he growled, the devil in him returned. “You will not control or distract me. Lie back and take your pleasure, Lizzie. Do not touch,” he repeated, then thrust his tongue down her throat.
She groaned in pure frustration, for it killed her not to touch, but her tongue, at least, was allowed to dance with his.
Their lips tangled in passion until he overpowered her again, attacking breasts and belly with teases and licks, before he landed at her quim, where he’d exhausted her just last night—and why Li’s maids had so thoroughly stripped her.
Milton settled between her thighs and played her with virtuoso skill, making her arch right off the bed. His fingers pried her wide and stroked her every crease, slid voluptuously over slippery flesh. Back and forth he played her: faster, slower, pressure, release.
“I am ready, Milton, do not wait,” she panted, desperate.
“Patience, woman.” His breath tickled as he traced and tongued her cunny till she could take no more.
Without thinking, she grabbed his hair and shoved his face more deep, but he violently pinned her arms above her head, looming large over her body, nostrils flaring.
“Do. Not. Touch.” His expression was grim, twisted. “If you cannot control yourself, Lizzie, I shall be forced to restrain you.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Then bind me, Milton. I cannot help but touch.”
He grunted as he grabbed silk neckties from his dresser, affixing her arms to the bedposts in a flurry of action, testing the ties for tension. Fear flickered across his face, but just as quickly disappeared. “I’ll go as slow as you need, wife.”
“I am not afraid,” she answered.
“But you should be, Lizzie.” Their eyes met. “You should fear your husband.”
She did not, though he pushed her thighs wide and slid his fingers deep inside. She gasped at his invasion, yet she trusted Milton now, despite his words. Perhaps she trusted him because of them. His fingers curled and stroked until he brought her just within reach. Just…
Elizabeth thrashed against her ties, grateful for their hold. She relaxed her legs to greet him as he slid his hips between, eager to be let in.
With slow and steady pressure, he gently entered and stretched. He bent his head to her ear and asked, “Lizzie, may I?” as if he were the one in pain.
“Yes,” she hissed and he thrust, his reticence gone. The burn warmed to a glow as he drew back and impaled her once more. She felt breached yet somehow starved for more.
“Move with me, Lizzie.” Hot breath grazed her earlobe. “Join your body to mine in dance.”
She shifted her hips, and he slid further in, making her grit her teeth and gasp.
“God help me.” Milton groaned as he pulled back out. “Forgive me, Lizzie,” he whispered, before he fucked her with full force.