He moved his hands to the buttons of Marnie's shirt, removing it. He then knelt and pulled off her new boots, the loosened breeches and drawers, and the stockings she wore. Before she knew it, she was standing quite naked in the clearing, her strawberry blonde hair cascading down her shoulders.
Major Chance removed his own coat and shirt before crushing her to his tattooed chest. Marnie could feel the dull, regular thud of his heartbeat, feel the length of his sex pressing into her thigh.
He pulled her down to the blanket spread on the ground. When Marnie's bottom, still red and tender from the birching, touched the fabric, she hissed.
Major Chance distracted her from the pain with kisses that moved from her mouth, down her throat, over her collarbone and to her small, pert breasts, the nipples hard and pebbled with desire. He took first one, then the other, into his mouth, flicking the berry-dark nipples and laving deeply until Marnie cried out, her fingers twining in his hair.
Major Chance continued kissing her—down her sternum, down the softest part of her belly, and finally, down to the nude, spread lips of her sex.
For a moment, the spell was broken. Marnie said "No!" and went to close her legs. Major Chance easily pried them open once more, splaying her thighs wide.
"Do not try to keep me from what's mine," he said, his grip on her legs as strong as iron. "Unless you would like me to resume your punishment?"
Marnie's only response was a sigh. Her quick tongue failed her. She could not think of a retort. She was too overwhelmed with sensations.
He took his time kissing and licking his way up the inside of her thighs, first, one side and then the other. He ran his tongue along the outer lips of her spread sex until Marnie moaned in exhilaration and frustration. She could feel that all her blood had rushed to her sex, felt her pearl firm and protruding, longing for pressure and for relief.
When the major first ran the breadth of his tongue along the entire length of Marnie's sex, he released a guttural groan.
Then he was attending to her pearl, applying only the faintest pressure with the tip of his tongue. This pressure continued and continued, driving her to try to pull away when the intensity threatened to overwhelm her.
In response, he moved his hand to press down on her belly, holding her in place. He then took her pearl into his mouth and sucked deeply. The shift in sensation was profound; Marnie cried out, her hands grasping at the blanket. She felt that her release was close.
"Not yet, my love," Major Chance said.
Leaving Marnie teetering on a precipice, he moved lower and used his tongue to probe at the virgin entrance to her sex. Having never been breached, even this small intrusion felt forceful to Marnie; she felt stretched and exposed, and yet the warmth and pressure of his tongue promised a greater pleasure than any she had yet known.
"You taste so sweet," he said, looking up at her. Marnie bit her lip.
When he once again lowered his head, he began using his tongue to apply regular, firm strokes against her pearl. Marnie felt the familiar taut energy building inside her body. Her lips stung from his hard, bruising kisses. Her bottom stung from his punishment. And her quim was singing from the concentrated attention of his tongue, which was pressing harder and harder and moving faster and faster.
She mewled. She felt right on the edge of something. All the blood was rushing to her sex, softening and opening it. Her breath caught in her throat.
"Please," she said. "Please..."
Major Chance said nothing. He went back on his haunches, reached into his trousers and freed his cock. When Marnie glimpsed it, she could see it looked dark and hungry, thick and hard.
He ran his hand up its length. Marnie watched as a drop of cream appeared at its opening.
Then he was on top of her, kissing her again, holding her in place with his body. The crushing weight pinned Marnie in place. She clutched his back, feeling the hard knots of scar tissue, feeling the intensity of his kisses, feeling as his sex instinctively searched out her tender, virgin entrance.
When she felt the broad head of his cock ease inside her, she tensed.
But there was no stopping Major Chance. He didn't hesitate, didn't wait or draw out the moment. He plunged forward, past Marnie's slight, instinctive resistance, and tore through her maidenhead, causing her to cry out wildly. The pain was intense, searing. As he drove into her, she felt as though she was being split in two.
Once inside her, the major groaned and stilled, but only for a moment. There was one slow, painful thrust, and then another. But after that, there was nothing tentative in how he claimed her. He thrust hard, with each thrust entering her to the hilt. He stretched and filled her without respite, and Marnie was taken to the edge, barely able to breathe.
But after a few moments of being overwhelmed, she found that the pain slipped away and, in its place, was a deep and building pleasure, different from when he pressed or tongued her pearl. This was, she realised, what she had wanted, what she had longed for—a consuming sense of fullness, a kind of completion. She was glad that he did not hold back but gave her what she needed, what she truly desired, rather than what another man might have thought her capable of enduring.
Eventually, she felt herself rising and rising, the pressure building to the point where she thought she might explode. She sank her fingernails into his back and quivered around him, clutching him inside her more tightly, contracting and trembling as she found a long release, crying out, going to pieces around him.
Moments later, Major Chance followed, spending deep inside Marnie with a low, primal, possessive roar.
They spent a while in the clearing while darkness gathered, Marnie with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
"Come on," the major said finally as she started to doze. "Let's go home."
He helped her to dress. Together, they found their way back to the horses. Marnie mounted, gingerly, but with a soft, satisfied smile. Then, together, they rode slowly down the hill, towards the yellow house and the wide-open meadows surrounding it.
The End.
Eva Nightingale
Eva Nightingale has always loved stories, particularly the kind that feature feisty heroines, darkly handsome heroes, and the occasional dastardly villain. She now writes those stories, adding the kinds of scenes her favourite Victorian novelists would have found too scandalous to print.
She lives with her darkly handsome husband and two dastardly cats.
Don’t miss these exciting titles by Eva Nightingale and Blushing Books!
Miss Robin's Academy Series
A Captain for Cassandra - Book 1
A Doctor for Delilah - Book 2
A Major for Marnie - Book 3
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A Major of Marnie (Miss Robin's Academy Book 3) Page 19