Submitting to the Marquess

by Brown, Em Browint writing as Georgette

  “Calm yourself. I promise it shall not hurt.”

  “I am not—I am not prepared for this,” she gasped.

  “Prepared? My dear, this is not a concert. You have but to lie back and enjoy what I am to do.”

  He pressed his thumb at the nub of flesh between her folds. She cried out at the contact, her body bowing off the settee.

  “We must not…”

  Her words turned into a moan as he circled his thumb against her, slowly coaxing sensations both exquisite and torturous. Her eyes rolled toward the back of her head, and she grasped the settee as if in immense pain. He marveled at how strongly her body reacted, and when their gazes met through their masks, he glimpsed the fear he had seen in her on their wedding night. He had been too bewildered by it then to do much about it. But tonight would be different. This time he would show her the proper conclusion.

  Her lips moved, but her words were lost. She squeezed her eyes shut, and it almost seemed as if she were not enjoying his fondling, but her wetness continued to flow. Her breaths grew haggard. His forefinger took a turn next, stroking that sensitive bud.

  “Surrender yourself to the pleasure,” he encouraged, sensing that she still fought the delicious tension. “Naught but ecstasy awaits.”

  His touch was still gentle. If he had been with his mistress, he would have been agitating his entire hand against her as she ground herself into him.

  “Oh my, oh my,” Trudie pleaded between clenched teeth.

  With his fingers, he continued to build that beautiful tension from which one desired to topple. He hoped it would be so for Trudie. Her brow furrowed, and her groans and grunts increased. He sensed her arousal, but still she seemed to oppose the bliss that awaited her. He considered if his tongue might prove more effective, but such wantonness might startle her too much.

  He intensified his fondling, making her legs quake. Her groans sounded slightly of sobs. Alarmed, he ceased his ministrations, but instead of looking relieved, she appeared vexed and even more distraught. She whimpered. He resumed his caresses. He would show her the end was well worth the present agitation.

  Eventually, something inside her seemed to shatter, and her body went into violent paroxysm. Her cries pierced his ears as she bucked beneath him, her limbs jerking and flailing. He had never seen her spend, and was in some wonder of it. He had never seen any woman spend in such fashion, with such vigor. Desire pumped through him to the tip of his cock. The prospect of all that he could do with her filled him with excitement.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WITH HER CHEEKS FLUSHED and her brow smoothed from satisfaction, Trudie looked beautiful. Her lashes fluttered, and when she opened her eyes, she gazed at him as if from a blur—but then he seemed to come into focus and she started. When Leopold bent to kiss her again, she put up her hands and tried to push him away.

  "I must go," she blurted.

  "We have only begun," he replied, still leaning toward her.

  She pressed her hands against his chest. "No—I must."

  She sounded more insistent this time, but her reservations had melted easily enough before. The swelling at his crotch grew tight at the thought of making her spend once more and in finer fashion.

  "There is more pleasure, greater pleasure, to come."

  She tried to slip from under him, but he, not being done with her, kept her body pinned to the sofa.

  "Please," she gasped between her struggles.

  Was she presently overcome with guilt? It was too late now. He reached between her legs. She tried to close them and push his hand away, but he persisted until he had reached that nub of flesh between her folds, still deliciously swollen and wet. She quivered. It was as he thought.

  "No…" she moaned, but despite her protest, a radiance shone from her eyes.

  With one hand, she attempted to yank his out from between her thighs while her other hand continued to push at his chest. Her squirming only caused his blood to heat further. Still wanting another kiss, he lowered his head. When her efforts gained her no traction, she shoved at his chin.

  He grabbed the offending hand and pinned it to the sofa. "Do you not wish to spend again and more gloriously then before?" he asked.

  "I must not." She spoke as if trying to convince herself.

  He fondled her, but she became more vigorous in her struggles.

  Why did she wish to stop now? Now that his member was hard as flint and yearning for release?

  "I promise you an ecstasy your body has never before known," he murmured against her lips, recalling how sweet and yielding they had been.

  "No! I-I have sinned enough.”

  Her despair ought to have stayed him, but a faint hesitation hung about her words. He felt sorry for her remorse, but if she had not wished to be unfaithful, she should never have come to Château Follet. It was true she had resisted his seduction at first, but she had eventually succumbed. And spent. She had never spent for her husband before but had done so now at the hands of a stranger, a circumstance Leopold now found vexing. A surprising jealousy flared within him.

  "It is of no consequence now,” he said. “You have made of your husband a cuckold already."

  She slapped him across the face with her free hand, taking him by surprise. Was he the offender? After she had so willingly submitted herself?

  He grabbed her second hand and crushed his mouth atop hers, muffling her scream. In her attempts to throw him off, she unwittingly pressed her body to his crotch several times, tempting the hardness there. Dispensing with his earlier tenderness, he probed her mouth roughly. The blood pounded in his head, drowning out his conscience. She was, after all, his wife. She should not be giving away what was rightfully his. As her husband, he was merely claiming his prerogative.

  Her strength was no match for his. She kicked her legs, pressing her feet into the sofa to provide some leverage to free herself from beneath his weight, but his pelvis kept her pinned. He ground himself into her as his mouth continued to assault hers, his tongue probing into her moist depths. A part of him did wish to make her regret coming to the Château, but he was mostly overcome with a desire to possess her, to prove that she was his and no other’s.

  She twisted her head to escape his brutal kisses. Sensing she would not relent, he knew of one way to wear down her resistance. He let go of one hand and reached again between her legs.

  His touch sent her into a frenzy. She pushed at his face. But the effect of his fondling was immediate, quieting her vigor.

  “Please, sir,” she pleaded, her protest akin to the soft mew of a kitten.

  “I promise your body will know the divinest pleasure,” he said, teasing and tempting the seat of her desire.

  She shook her head weakly. “It is enough. Please.”

  But she had ceased to claw him and her body trembled beneath his. He plied her clitoris, leaving her panting anew.

  “You are ready to spend again,” he noted, his head swimming with the scent of her arousal.

  “No.”

  He almost laughed at the feeble rebuff. He slid a finger into her slit. With a loud gasp, she grabbed his upper arm. The look upon her countenance called to his cock. He sank a second digit into her. She groaned. Her lashes fluttered. He curled his fingers and gently stroked.

  “Dear God,” she whispered, her eyes wide behind her mask, which sat askew as a result of their scuffle.

  Her arousal was ripe, sensual, exciting. He wondered that he had not had the patience before to discover the beauty in her pleasure.

  Trudie dug her fingers into his arm as his digits fondled her with a little more vigor. The wet heat of her quim was marvelous. Withdrawing his fingers, he straightened to undo the buttons of his fall. His member sprang free, stiff and ready. She stared at it, frightened, as if it were a weapon that could hurt her.

  "I will be gent—" he began.

  But she had sprung off the sofa and scrambled for the doors.

  He caught her and they tumbled to the ground. She c
lawed and hit at him, dealing a fairly decent blow to the side of his head before he could grab her wrists and pin them to the floor.

  "How unkind of you, madam. You would take pleasure but provide none in return?"

  She paused briefly but resumed her resistance. Once again, her struggles only fueled the lust inside him. He had thought to prevail in his seduction, and was surprised his skills had not brought about her complete surrender. She did not understand that his cock was the superior fit for her cunnie, and that she would enjoy it much more than she had his fingers. He would show her how superb it would feel.

  "Please, let me go. There are other women for you.”

  Recalling how easily she had dismissed herself earlier, he held her gaze in his and said, "It is you I want."

  Her eyes lit up yet she continued to waver. "But…"

  "Is this not what you had sought in coming here?"

  She whimpered, her indecision arousing his earlier turmoil. He had a right to claim her, and his cock would be satisfied with nothing less. He wanted to show her that she was desirable. He was also cross with her for being so easily seduced by a stranger, for seeking to commit adultery. With his knee, he nudged her legs apart. He released one hand to pull up her skirts. She took the opportunity to strike at him and nearly knocked his mask off.

  Stifling an oath, he flipped her onto her stomach and held her down by putting a knee to her lower back. He untied his cravat and used it to bind her wrists behind her.

  "You brute!" she cried, flailing with the desperation of a fish out of water.

  "You came seeking debauchery in the form of criminal congress," he reminded her. "I am merely fulfilling your intentions."

  He threw her skirts over her waist, revealing plump and unblemished buttocks. If he had more patience, he would've stopped to admire them more, but his cock would wait no longer. More swiftly than he’d intended, he sank his length into her.

  She gave a long cry but lay still, allowing him to savor the glory of her cunnie. He thought she would take to screaming, and he would have reconsidered his actions if she did. Instead, she whimpered.

  He reached a hand around her hip, past the voluminous skirts bunched about her waist, and nestled it at her groin. His fingers found her clitoris. Her moan was long and low.

  Fighting the urge to shove his entire shaft into her, he concentrated on strumming that swollen bud between her folds. She shook her head and whined a little, but he could sense her resistance melting away as more and more wetness coated his fingers. He pushed a little more of himself into her. She felt divine.

  With his hand beneath her, theirs was no easy position, but he fondled her to the best of his ability. And when he had sheathed his entire cock inside her paradise, it seemed she gave a welcoming groan. He did not fault her for succumbing. There was little she could do, and a part of her must find it flattering that a man desired her enough to ravish her.

  The wet heat surrounding him was irresistible, and he began a gradual thrusting. She squirmed, and he shoved deeper to keep her in place. He intensified his fondling of her clitoris.

  “Oh my,” she murmured.

  With Trudie, it was not unlike having congress with a virgin. She was deliciously tight, and he was satisfied that it was so because no other man had spread her legs before. He was now steadily pumping in and out of her, his pelvis slapping against her rounded rump. She grunted between uneven breaths and muttered unintelligibly. It was undoubtedly an uncomfortable position for her, being pressed into the hard floor with her arms pinioned behind her and her legs spread. “Spend for me,” he said.

  Her grunts became cries. A few minutes later, her cries culminated in a wail, and her body fell into that familiar paroxysm. She shuddered beneath him, and it was enough to send him over the edge to join her in carnal rapture. He pulled out just as his shaft erupted, draining the tension that had built in his groin. Delicious shivers racked his body as he spent more violently than he could remember. He trembled against her till he had emptied his seed upon the floor.

  When the explosion had settled into a hum in his body, he collapsed beside her to catch his breath. He closed his eyes, still in amazement at the splendor of it all.

  Realizing her hands were still tied, he propped himself up and undid her bonds. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. He took a hand and kissed it. "I pray you spent well?"

  She said nothing at first, and he worried that he had been too rough with her.

  "I did…thank you," she said at last.

  Relieved, he lay down and looked up at the ceiling with her. Various emotions still warred within him, but he came to a decision.

  He would stay a while at Château Follet after all.

  CHAPTER SIX

  TRUDIE BOLTED TO HER FEET and fled the room. Seconds ago, she had lain beside a masked stranger after having had congress with him. She had even thanked him. What a shameful adulteress she was!

  Ensconced in her own room, she sat down at the vanity, removed her mask, and peered into the looking glass, half expecting to see a changed reflection of herself. A single lamp had been left lit in the dim room, but she saw the same round face, save for the more than customary crimson flush, staring back at her. Committing adultery had not transformed her into an ugly monster.

  Rather, the blush in her cheeks became her, and even the disarray of her coiffure was not without a bucolic charm. A man had found her enticing enough to seduce. She could not deny that it had been thrilling. More than thrilling. Unimaginable. She had spent – not once, but twice. And it had been glorious, the most exquisite sensation her body had ever known. But such bliss had occurred at the hand of a stranger. How could it be, when she had not ever done so with her own husband before, a man whom she loved and found more than alluring?

  She felt her flush deepen as she recalled how her body had succumbed. It had betrayed her better judgment. He had been inside her, his fingers, his…shaft. Inside her most private parts. The penetration had hurt at first, though not nearly as bad as it had upon her marriage night. Tonight, for a few minutes, she had wished to be anywhere but pinned beneath him, speared upon his stiff erection. But then the arousal took over. She was no match for the more primitive carnal desires. The sensations that followed were the most delicious she had ever known. The evidence of the rapture still clung to her thighs.

  Now came the remorse. The shame. How could she have done what she had? It was a mistake to come here to Château Follet. She should never have allowed her friend, Diana, to talk her into coming. She should flee, return home and contemplate the sin she had committed. Despite the late hour, she stood and began to pack her belongings.

  "Whatever are you doing?"

  Trudie looked up to see her husband's beautiful cousin. Diana had been in the company of a flaxen haired Adonis earlier, unabashedly flirting with him.

  "I cannot stay," Trudie replied.

  Diana raised a single brow. "I thought we had discussed the matter. You owe your husband nothing. Leopold broke his vows first."

  “Two wrongs do not make a right."

  "No, they do not, but they make an equivalency, and it is not unfair to pay a wrong with a wrong."

  "I cannot perceive it to be so. I feel far too wretched!"

  "But why? Your being here… oh! What has happened?" Diana approached the bed where Trudie had placed her portmanteau.

  Trudie began to tremble. "I met a man."

  Diana's eyes lit up. "Truly! That is wonderful! Who is it?"

  "I do not even know his name, which makes it all the more awful," Trudie groaned.

  "Not at all. In fact, it is much better that way. You need not worry of ever crossing paths with him. But you must tell me more! Was he handsome?"

  "I could not tell. He wore a mask. I do not care if he was handsome or not. I wish it had not happened."

  "Don't be such a silly ninny. Did he—you—both—”

  "I do not think I can speak of it."

  "And here I ha
d come expecting to find you bored out of your mind. This is wondrous! You ought to take pride in your liaison. Our husbands, Leopold and Charles, have had their mistresses for some time. Now it is our turn to have a little merriment. Where is your mystery lover now? Why is he not with you?"

  "I neither know nor care. I fled from him and hope to depart the château as soon as possible."

  Diana put her hands on her hips. "And where do you expect to go? Considering the lateness of the hour, you cannot leave."

  Realizing this to be true, Trudie sank down onto the bed. A numbness crept into her. She did not think she could wait till morning to make arrangements, but she saw little alternative.

  Diana threw her arms about Trudie. "I am so happy for you, my dear! If I were you, I would seek out your mystery lover. Why spend the night alone?"

  Trudie shook her head vehemently. "He is the last person I wish to see at present."

  "Well, I am sorry to hear it and hope you will change your mind. I must not keep my gentleman waiting or he will be cross with me."

  With a final embrace, Diana took her leave. Still feeling miserable, Trudie stared at the wall before her. What was she to do now? What would she do when she returned home? When she faced Leopold?

  “What a wretch am I,” she grumbled to herself, putting her head into her hands. “I must pay a proper penance for my deeds.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  Trudie leaped off the bed and whipped around. It was him.

  * * * *

  Her heart jumped into her throat at seeing the source of her debauchery, his tall form filling the doorway. He still wore his mask, and she realized she did not have hers. The odds that he knew her were slim, but she was tempted to grab for her mask, which, alas, lay out of arm’s reach. Moreover, her feet were frozen to their spot though every nerve urged her to flee.

  “You left without a by your leave,” he said in a stern tone.