Sometime in the morning, she became aware of a presence in the room. Not in the bed beside her, but at the foot of the bed, watching her, ever watching her.
Not Gerard…
She moved her body languidly, knowing he was watching, waiting, wondering of whom she was thinking as she stretched.
"Spread your legs."
She rolled onto her back and extended her long sleek legs outward to show him that this lesson was nothing to her, nothing to learn, nothing to do. But when, during the night of dreamy passion with the evascent Gerard, she had decided this course, she didn't know.
Whatever, it suddenly was easy. So easy.
"Sit up."
Slowly she raised herself upward, sliding down to the foot of the bed so that she could still splay her legs while she cupped her breasts and lifted them toward him, all the while watching the thickening length between his legs.
"Very good, little fawn. It is time for me to claim you as my own naked wife."
Her breath caught. Now, now, he would take her and the thing would be done and he'd leave her to her own devices.
He rose up and came toward her, his spurting erection directly in her line of vision, his extended hand holding what looked like a collar with two very long straps appended from it.
"What is this?"
"This is the first thing you will be permitted to wear, my fawn. Your legs go through the straps so that they are positioned just inside your thighs. You are to wear the collar and thongs at all times whether you are dressed or naked as reminder to you who owns you and who will possess you in good time. Put it on."
She shot him a defiant look and then slowly slipped her legs through the straps, and then stood up, pulling them tightly against her inner thighs, which made her mound more prominent.
"Like that." He could barely say the words; the sight of those leather straps defining her feminine bush and pushing out her high, pointed breasts sent a lightning bolt of desire to his groin. "Put the collar around your neck."
It was a wide, supple leather collar decorated with golden studs and a hook closure. She locked it, and he gestured for her to move away from him so that he could examine her minutely.
It was perfect, the thin leather straps taut against her pale skin, conspicuously outlining her sex and her breasts, and culminating in the symbol of his owning her: the thrall collar.
"Evie!"
Evie slipped into the room.
"Lock it."
Evie came up behind her, and a moment later, Drue heard the almost noiseless click of a lock; she heard him groan, she saw his body convulse before he mastered his sex, and she reached back and touched a tiny padlock, the key to which Evie gave him before she exited the room.
The vision of her collared and strapped to his specification aroused him unbearably: she could see that he was not fully in command of his wayward penis.It wanted her. It flexed and stretched and elongated and thickened almost as if it were enticing her as she sashayed around him, letting him view her from every angle.
He particularly liked the way the straps crossed her buttocks and disappeared invitingly into her crease, and then reappeared to tightly confine her femininity.
His penis liked it, too; he couldn't clamp down hard enough on his erection to contain the spurt of juice that stained the material of his trousers.
"On the collar is the seal of the Summervilles,wife, so that everyone will know that you are my possession."
"Take me then; everyone thinks you have already."
"Indeed. And only you and I know that I am exerting heroic control in not plowing you until you have been taughtevery lesson."
"I've learned your lessons," she protested. "I wear your thrall collar. I'm ready for your possession."
"No.I'm bursting to possessyou, but you are not nearly ready for me. Come." He rose up from the chair, his erection bone hard in front of him. "We go downstairs for breakfast today."
"I"
"Naked. Just as you are."
"The servants" she murmured faintly.
"Naked," he said inflexibly, holding open the door.
"If anyone sees me" she protested.
"He'll just have to control his lust for you."
"How can he, if you can't?" she retorted.
He looked down at his throbbing manhood. "An aberration. It'll go away."
But it didn't. It never went away all the time they ate breakfast; her mouth went dry every time she looked at his erection, imagining the breadth and thickness, the mystery of him.
But then, her nipples kept reacting to the heat of his gaze. He couldn't take his eyes off them and they kept tightening and tightening and her body felt creamier and creamier just from the touch of his burning eyes.
And he knew it. He made her sit across from him with her legs splayed while they ate, and all of it, her nakedness, his lust, her feeling of being captive and contained, the leather straps on her body, the feral glitter in his eyes, all of it made her body squirm and her juices flow.
Just what she didn't want. She didn't want to succumb to this domination of her. She wanted none of him, except the one moment of possession that would legitimize the marriage.
How could she do that, when every provocation that he had visited on her had not been enough to make him sink himself into her?
Howdid one make a man relinquish that power?
Obviously the dictates of his body were not enough. He was not a man who was led around by his baser nature.
By every standard and what little she knew, he should have succumbed to her charms the moment he ripped away that bedspread.
But then, Court was the kind of man to whomwomen succumbed, and why he had decided that she was to be part of his bargain to obtain Oak Bluffs was beyond her.
And she obviously was not woman enough to entice him.
Except his pulsating body said differently, and he had been in a permanent state of high arousal ever since he'd walked into that bedroom.
And he kept referring to Gerard.
She almost groaned out loud. Gerard would never have forced her to do all the things that Court had. Gerard would have petted and kissed her, and waited on her time for the ultimate moment of possession. He never would have humiliated her like this.
She felt him jerk her arm and haul her to her feet.
"So…" he said viciously, "the fawn dreams of rabbits in spite of the fact she has a stallion at her command. Oh, my dear wife, it will give me the greatest pleasure to wipe that milksop from your memory."
"I don't care…" she spat. "Idon't carehe's a gentleman, he would never…"
"And I would? I could? This is the first I've touched you in anger, Drue, and you will feel the full force of it. You arenever to let a thought of that mollycoddle into your mindever again or I will bring him here and let him see you naked and groveling to me. Because, by God, youwill prostrate yourself and beg for my penis." He was furious, overset by a pure male rage that was frightening in its intensity. "Evie! Louise! Take her upstairs and get her ready."
Instantly, the two servants surrounded her, each taking an arm and pushing her unwilling body up the stairs.
He watched her naked, writhing buttocks in the erotic straps, and he didn't try to control his convulsive release.
Any minute after, he knew, the gnawing desire would take over yet again, stretching and thickening him to rock-hard readiness at the knowledge that the naked mistress of Wildwood would be waiting for him in her room, restrained and restive, and very aware now of his poking, pulsating penis.
Two days was all it had taken. The little fawn was an apt pupil. She couldn't keep her eyes off his towering erection during breakfast, and she'd been eyeing his sex all morning before they left the bedroom.
It was too bad she'd had to spoil it, butsome lessons were hard learned.
He knelt beside the chair in which she had displayed herself as they ate. The scent of her permeated his senses, rising from the minuscule moist blot from her wet. His erec
tion jacked up a notch, his whole body tensed. It took but a moment to strip, to slide himself across the slick satin, to rub against the stain of her sex, to commingle it with his own.
Not enough, not enough. He wanted it all.
He mounted the steps slowly, savoring the sultriness of the morning and the way the heat rose in his loins. He had never wanted a woman's body more. He couldn't get enough as he imagined her laying there, in her collar and straps, her legs wide open in invitationto him, and only him.
Oh, yes. And when he was certain she wanted only him… then
Evie stood outside the door, guarding it. "Everything ready," she murmured.
Then…
He opened the door.
Drue eyed him balefully from where she lay across the bed. "Youmonster."
She was on her stomach, her buttocks canted up slightly, with her hands in restraints, but not her legs. It wasn't all that unpleasant, especially since she had a first-rate view of his flat belly and the growth of hair that fanned down beneath his belt to his thrusting penis.
It was inches away from her lips, deliberately, she thought angrily, and she wondered what would happen if she pulled it into her mouth, material and all, and sucked it dry.
She turned her head away abruptly. She could not let herself be seduced by a length of muscle and the refusal of the man to do his husbandly duty.
If only he would, she could be faithful to Gerard for the rest of her life.
She felt something probing her sex.
"What's that? What are you doing?"
"I'm just giving you what you want, you vixen.Something to fill your empty place."
It was perfect. She was all there, and open to him. He sat down beside her wriggling bottom and, propping himself on his elbow, he began to stroke her exposed sex.
She wriggled away from his questing fingers, and he went after her, stroking and dipping, and as she began to push against his fingers, probing and then pushing his three long fingers deep and hard inside her until they met the sweet barrier that proclaimed her innocence and her need.
She shrieked assomething pushed into her most private place as if it were made to be there. But it wasn't his penis or his obvious need.
"You are… you are a bastard," she moaned, beating her feet against the mattress.
"And what are you, my naked wife, when your heart is full and yearning for another man? What you have now is all ofme you can have until you crushhis memory from your heart." He twisted his hand slightly and her body jolted at the sensation.
"Go away," she hissed, writhing against the sensation of the thickness of his fingers centered within her. "You are unspeakable."
"I am a man whose wife craves another man's sex," he said stonily, "and for that, she can only havethis " And he pushed his fingers harder into her, and she gasped as he pushed against her virginity. "Andthis…" A merciless twist of his fingers, and the feeling of him expanding her shocked her silent.
She couldn't move. She felt utterly paralyzed by the sensation of his fingers there. It was unspeakable; incredible; unknowable.
And he didn't move. Didn't speak. Just flexed his fingers every few minutes to let her know that he possessed her there, like that, just to that point of pressing her virginal veil; and that he could command those feelings from her whenever he desired.
He felt her every movement; whether she knew it or not, she was rocking against him gently, almost imperceptibly, seeking deeper penetration, enhanced sensation, in spite of the fact he could push no further.
He didn't know how much longer he could last, holding her like that, embedded in the tight heat of her most feminine place. And the straps of the thrall collar crossing over her buttocks almost undid him.
"Here is the lesson,wife," he whispered. "Only one man's penis can possess you. Which do you want more? A memory? A substitute?" He wriggled his fingers. "Or your master? Ponder that this morning, Drue, and how would it feel to be filled and fulfilled as my wife."
Never, never, never, never…
Her body sagged as he slowly withdrew his fingers. No, no she didn't expect thatthe feeling of emptiness. Not from him. Not that.
She turned her head.
The bulge of his erection told her more plainly than his words what pleasure awaited her when she finally willingly eagerly submitted to him.
If only he would get it over with
It was in her eyes, and he read it clearly: the fascination with his ever-protruding penis, and her refusal to ever give in to him.
Let her lay there then, he thought furiously.Let her think about what she had felt, what just his fingers had made her feel. What she could have if she came to him willingly.
He couldn't take it another moment. He sagged against the door, his breath ragged, his body perspiring and taut with the sheer effort of controlling his lust; he felt like exploding, and shooting his seed all over her naked buttocks.
For one fulminating moment, he didn't care about lessons or love or Gerard Lenoir. All he wanted was that hot, bone-crackling release, and preferably centered deep into her hot, tight, traitorous body.
But then he pictured her nipples, her tight pointy nipples, and he wondered if Gerard had ever seen them, touched them… His mind would go no further.
All the sensual games he was playing with her now were still not proof against her having given her body to Lenoir to touch, to play with. And if he ever found out that Lenoir had laid a hand on her… Drue Caledon would remain his virgin bride forever.
But he would, finally, regretfully, let her get dressed.
chapter 5
So…all the vixen wanted to do was taunt him and think about another man poking her
How much should a husband have to take?
Even he didn't know the limits of his controlor his passion. The only thing he knew was she wasn't going to tempt him to take her before he was ready.
And that resolve already required the endurance of a saint.
He lay stretched out on his bed in the room next door to Drue's, and watched idly as every thought of her excited him to a bone-hard erection.
Still a virgin; a beautiful, round bottomed, long legged, hot, wet naked, come-take-me virgin. That at least was some consolation.
You sure are ass-over-end insane for waiting to rut in her though.
Am I? I should just take her, the way she begs?
Why not?
Why not…
That inviting cleft between her splayed legs enfolding him…those flaring hips cradling him; and then lunging and plunging and penetrating the final barrierand spending himself deep in that moist, rich velvet of her…
He drew in a sharp, hot breath, every molecule in his body aching to get his hands on her, to thrust his way into her.
Waiting naked for you, primed as a pistol for you, look at how your fingers made her squirm for you… she couldn't get enough of your fingers,for God's sake, in her furrow…
… Hellfire…
He had a squirming, naked woman already willing to spread her legs for him, and he sat here having wet dreams about her, instead ofhaving her. That sounded a little off-whack to him, too.
But there was a method to this insanity. There was. It was just at this moment, with his penis throbbing with lust for her, he couldn't quite remember what it was.
He gave her a half hour before he came back to her bedroom.
She lay where he left her, belly down and restrained, her eyes closed, her mouth determined.
Which was how he knew she was not sleeping.
"What now?" she muttered dampingly.
His erection did not die. If anything, the sight of her quiescent body and lush curves aroused him all the more.
"Well, my fawn, you've gotten a taste of what it feels like to have a man's hand inside you. Now I thought I'd like a taste of you."
His words put her in a panic. "No. No.No!"
"Nowhat,my wife who is never to refuse me anything…?" His voice was silky, soft. Iron.
>
"I can't take this, Court." Was she throwing herself on his mercy? Maybe so, buthe was the torturer, not she. If only, only, only he would do his duty… they could dispense with the games and start to live their separate lives.
She could make do with that, shecould…
She shrieked."What are you doing?!!" as he lifted her onto her knees and began rubbing something onto her protruding sex.
"Making myself a tasty treat, my fawn…"
She moaned.Oh, Lord, the feeling of his fingers massaging something thick and sticky into her like that, all around her naked cleft was almost more than she could bear.
"You like that," he murmured.
She made a guttural sound at the back of her throat. "I don't like anything." Her body contradicted her immediately, undulating seductively against his swirling fingers.
"You'll like this." No, heliked this, the feel of her compressed woman flesh against his fingers as he swirled honey all around it.
"What are youdoing?!!"
"I'm coating you with honey before I sip from your cup…"
Omigod, omigod, omigod… She pulled, she wrenched, she kicked, she writhed and she couldn't get away from him or the inexorable touch of his rubbing fingers.
Bear it… just let him get it over with and bear it…
But she was doing more than bearing it. She was inviting it, and against every feeling she had about him.
She hated herself. She hated her naked body. She hated him…
"Ahhh," he growled. "And now…"
"And now?" she whispered fearfully.
"… I eat my sweet treat…"
And she couldn't escape. Where before he had held her middle with his iron-bar arm, now he relinquished her, and straddled her hips, pulling her onto her knees again.
"Now…" he groaned, and bent over her. And took her with one long luscious swipe of his tongue against her pulsing, swelling sex.
Omigod… omigod… was there ever a more relentless mouth… She fought him, she enticed him, she couldn't get away from him and his determination to lick and suck every last drop of honey from between her legs.
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