by Geneva Lee
Guiding the head of my cock, I prodded her taut entrance, helping her acclimate to the idea. As I slowly breached the tight bundle of nerves, she relaxed, blossoming open and allowing the tip to pop inside. She gasped in pain and I waited, savoring the small shifts in her movement as she adjusted to my transgressive organ.
“More,” she finally whispered.
It took all the self-control I’d accumulated over years of topping not to give her exactly what she asked for. “I’m sorry?”
“Please give me more of your cock.”
The plea held a note of fear.
I stroked a hand down her back. “You’re completely mine now, beautiful. You’ve given me every piece of yourself. It makes me so proud to look down and see my cock in your ass, knowing that you chose me to take it.”
She needed to hear the praise as much as she needed the time to continue to stretch and adjust to the new sensations. When I finally slid farther in, she cried out, arching up. This time I knew there was as much pleasure as fear mixing in her blood.
I swept her hair over her shoulder and leaned down to kiss the back of her neck. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, Sir.” There was no moment of hesitation. Her voice was clear, colored with the lusty yearning that made her irresistible.
“I want you to come,” I instructed her, “as many times as you want. As hard as you can. No holding back. No waiting for permission.”
This time her assent came in the form of a desperate whimper.
I gripped each of her shoulders, rolling my groin and enjoying one last lingering moment before I kicked her legs wider, spreading her open so her clit rubbed against the edge of the desk. Then I drove into her. Hard. Holding her down I fucked her, slamming inside of her. Her ass swallowed me each time. It was as greedy as the pleas spilling from her lips. Beneath me Belle dissolved into a mewling, wild creature, crying out and clawing at the desk’s surface. Her muscles contracted and released repeatedly, the force of the extended series of climaxes grabbing hold of my cock and milking it until I collapsed on top of her.
“You okay, beautiful?” I asked, brushing hair from her face.
She moaned, her eyes glassy with post-orgasmic bliss.
Helping her up, I pulled her onto my lap and wrapped my arms around her, murmuring an endless stream of praise until she came down from her high.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Price,” she accused with a coy smile.
“I’ve been patient,” I corrected her. I’d been dreaming of fucking her like that since the moment I’d laid eyes on her.
“Is it strange that it feels nice that we waited until we were married?”
“I appreciate you saving it for me,” I teased. “How are you feeling?”
“Good, I think.” She paused as if to assess. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
I carried her to bed then, ignoring the twinge of pain in my scar. I wasn’t about to regret that recent physical activity.
“I’m going to use the loo.” I kissed her forehead.
Belle had given me everything now. Physically we were closer than ever, which made it even more difficult to know we were still keeping secrets from one another.
I needed to tell her. She was strong enough to face what I needed to do. There was a possibility that she would try to talk me out of it, but she deserved to know that I was returning to London to end things with Hammond. Slipping back into the dim bedroom, I found her asleep, her face peaceful.
Innocent.
I wouldn’t strip her of that. I wouldn’t make her party to the choice I was making. I’d distance myself if it meant keeping blood off her hands. Belle was the one pure thing in my life and I wouldn’t taint her.
Chapter 10
When I woke the next morning, my wife wasn’t in our bed, but there was note.
You earned a lie in.
My wife not only let me fuck her, she let me sleep in as a reward. I’d found the perfect woman.
By the time, I’d showered and dressed, I discovered I was hungry. But a snack wasn’t going to sate my appetite. I would need Belle to do that. I found her in the foyer with our neighbor. He was obviously making himself at home.
“I apologize for dropping by unannounced.” Jacobson pulled his cap off and smiled warmly at us.
My wife crossed her arms and returned the welcome, but there was a reserved tone to her greeting that I was certain only I picked up.
“It’s a lovely surprise,” Mary called, appearing in the entry. “Would you like a cup of tea? I can ask the maid to bring up a small luncheon.”
I didn’t miss her emphasis on luncheon. She’d obviously noted that I’d just woken up.
“I never partake in early meals.” He patted the flat plane of his stomach. “It is how I’ve avoided my father’s paunch.”
Mary nodded as if this made perfect sense.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Belle interjected. This time her suspicion was more obvious, but if Jacobson noticed, he didn’t comment.
“I was hoping to steal your husband,” he admitted with a wink, as if this was a lark we were all in on.
Her smile cracked at the edges, growing brittle with impatience. Clearly, my wife had her qualms about Mr. Jacobson, something I made a mental note to discuss in private. For the moment, it was important to not draw attention to ourselves, which would be much more difficult if he had picked up on her paranoia.
“I’m afraid I’m a jealous woman. I generally don’t share him, Mr. Jacobson,” she simpered in a complete reversal of her previous attitude. At least she’d realized that she needed to contain her feelings in front of him.
“Understandable. Mary told me you’re recently married.” He held out his hand. “I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you before.”
I shook it, careful to tighten my grip just a little more than his.
“I was hoping I could convince you to go deer stalking. It’s a bit impromptu, but I do find that spontaneity is the primary joy of country life.”
“Indeed.” I glanced at Belle, who raised an eyebrow but didn’t make a move to stop me. “I’d be happy to. I’ve been cooped up a bit of late. Give me a moment?”
“Of course.”
“Oliver,” Mary moved closer to him and took his arm, “will you have a look at this letter I received from the local MP? I’m really not sure what to make of it.”
Belle followed me as I headed toward her father’s study. After her distraction, I’d left my rifle there the previous evening. Although as I stepped into the book-lined space, I felt a sort of kinship. The rifle belonged here, along with the strange trophies that peppered the room: a collection of fossils, a number of carved masks, and of course, the books. Although it might also have something to do with nailing my wife on the desk.
“You look like you belong in here,” she noted in a quiet voice.
“A bit traditional for my taste,” I remarked as I circled around the desk.
She pushed herself onto the top of it and brushed a hand over my shoulder. “Says the man with the bourbon and cigars in his office. Face it, Price. This place is gloriously unashamed of its masculinity—that’s why you fit in here.”
“Are you saying I should be ashamed?” I caught her lower lip with the pad of my thumb, relishing the moist heat of her breath on my hand.
“I’m saying you’re glorious,” she corrected me.
“If I didn’t know better, I would think you were trying to get yourself fucked on this desk again, Mrs. Price.”
“Unfortunately you’ve decided to go hunting.”
Her lower lip pushed against my finger as she pouted. I shifted on my feet as my cock began to strain against my zipper. “I can stay if you’ve officially changed your position on the no fucking rule.”
“Doctor’s orders, not mine.” She nipped the tip of my thumb and pulled away. “Last night was a moment of weakness. We probably shouldn’t be so rough, and you should still be taking it easy. That’s one re
ason you should stay. The other is that we know nothing about Jacobson.”
“We can’t live our whole lives in paranoia.” I understood her concern. The truth was that if our situations were reversed, I’d be locking her in one of the estate’s many rooms. But if I was going to have to keep my hands off her, I might as well get in some target practice.
Her eyes narrowed, no doubt sensing my hypocrisy. I’d never been able to pull one over on her. It was one of the reasons I worshipped her.
“Agreed, but we probably shouldn’t wander around the woods with strangers holding loaded guns.”
“When you put it like that, beautiful, I guess it’s a good thing I’ll have a gun as well.” I chuckled softly at the annoyance on her gorgeous face.
“I don’t like him,” she said in a flat voice.
So we’d finally come to it. I had suspected as much from her chilly reception, but I didn’t fully understand why.
“I’m an excellent judge of character,” I reassured her.
“I don’t doubt. What I doubt is your sense of self-preservation.” She hooked an arm around my neck and drew me closer until our lips brushed softly. “You have questionable taste in friends.”
Fair enough. “And impeccable taste in women.”
I sealed my mouth over hers, capturing her lips and silencing her questions. For now.
Dry leaves crunched beneath our feet as we followed a foot-worn path through the woods. Jacobson looked as if he’d stepped out of a fucking nineteenth century painting in his tweed hunting jacket and tipped cap. I’d found a similar get-up in Belle’s father’s wardrobe, but I wasn’t interested in playing the role of old money. It would certainly grant me no favor with Jacobson, whom I sensed was following a prescripted part himself.
“Mary said that you’re a member of the House of Commons?” I asked, careful to keep my tone conversational.
“Yes.” He grinned at me, bolstering his rifle higher on his shoulder and gestured to his clothes. “Don’t let my wife’s attempts at gentrifying me fool you, I am, unfortunately, very common.”
“We share that then.” I ducked under a low-hanging branch but straightened immediately when a sharp pang shot through my abdomen. The tree’s bare limb scratched across my rifle’s muzzle, and I winced at the horrible sound it made.
“Okay there?” he called out.
“Yes.” I waved off his concern, resisting the urge to hunch over. “I’m still recovering from my accident. Every time I think I’m back to normal, I realize I can’t bend over or lift something.”
“Terrible luck. Was your wife hurt?”
He had to have seen the remnants of her injuries from the attack, but he was being a gentleman by feigning otherwise. “Not seriously.”
“Word of advice. Never take a woman’s pain lightly. They’re so good at hiding it. Must come with the biology.” He laughed lightly at the thought.
“Lesson learned the hard way?”
“I’ve been married for twenty-five years,” he informed me. “I’ve learned most things about women the hard way. But listen to me scaring a newlywed. My apologies. Marriage is a splendid contract.”
“Agreed.” Despite all that had passed in the time since I had asked Belle to marry me, I’d yet to regret getting married. Not in the way most men did. I questioned my decision, wondering if the impetuous act had placed her in more danger. But I never questioned if I loved her. I never questioned that she was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, regardless of how short that life was. If we were blessed with twenty-five more years, I knew I would feel no differently then.
“I recall Mary mentioning her daughter was engaged, but if you’ll forgive me, I thought it was to someone else.”
Jacobson had been paying close attention for a man who had significant responsibility elsewhere.
“She was,” I said, “but luckily for me, he showed his true nature.”
“And you were there to scoop her up,” Jacobson added. “You must be a very lucky man, Price.”
I paused and stared at the back of his head. It was an innocent enough thing to say. No red-blooded man alive would see Belle and not consider me a lucky man. She was desire incarnate. Pure sex set on long legs.
No, it was something else entirely pricking at me, wanting me to acknowledge the underlying message in his words. The issue was that I had no clue what that message was relaying—or how I was meant to receive it. Given the precarious nature of our situation, I couldn’t risk misreading him, which meant that despite his overt friendliness, I needed to keep him at arm’s length. It was probably a mere hazard of my circumstances. Gaining my trust would be no easy task for anyone in the foreseeable future.
“I am,” I said at last.
“And now you have an estate to run.” He paused, his eyes darting around the woods. I waited until he shrugged as if to say ‘not this time.’
“Any pointers?”
“I can hardly call Betford House an estate. House of Commons, remember? I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth.”
I nodded in agreement even as I filed the comment away for further consideration. But despite my intention of changing the subject, I found myself unable to disregard the obvious meaning behind his words. “Unlike some.”
“Indeed. Nothing quite brings to light the disparity between the titled and the commoner so much as working in Parliament on the lesser side. ”
“The side that gets things done,” I added, hoping to provoke him further. At the very least I could appreciate the irony of discussing the subject of class with him.
“Exactly. I can see you are a man of the people.”
Who happens to be married to the best friend of half of the reigning monarchy.
“Yes, some of us have to earn our status,” Jacobson continued, stopping by the gnarled trunk of a dead oak tree. “I bought my land, modest as it may seem to some, from one of those titled idiots. At least our government isn’t issuing handouts to the elites anymore. He couldn’t afford to keep his family estate when he was forced to provide his own income. It makes you wonder what other institutions might crumble if we stopped privileging birthright.”
I had nothing to say to that. I’d been born with the proverbial silver spoon he’d spoken of. Even if my father had been from a working class family, I’d been handed my wealth. On the other hand, Belle had gone to university, worked, and started her own business despite the name she’d been born with. I wasn’t about to share this analysis with my companion, however. I’d learned a long time ago that a lot could be learned from listening to a tangent.
“I’m being rude,” Jacobson said suddenly. “Your wife has a title.”
“Not as such. She’s unable to inherit.” Was he testing me? I gripped the butt of my rifle more tightly.
“Ah yes, sexist old practices. I do hope to see significant change in my political career.”
“Meaning a woman can inherit a title or there are no titles left to inherit?”
“Touché, Mr. Price.” His eyes flicked up to mine, something unreadable flashing through the warm brown orbs.
Before I could process the look, his rifle swung up, leveled directly at my head.
Well, beautiful, you were right. She always was. Unfortunately, the thought was far from comforting.
I didn’t bother to speak or to argue. He’d have the shot off before I could raise my own weapon. All I could do was ignore the sudden racing of my heart. Belle would be smart enough to know what was going on when I didn’t return. She could handle herself, and with me out of the picture, it was possible they might leave her alone. It was a lie I needed to believe.
His index finger waited on the trigger, as if to offer me a change to plead for my life or at least offer up one final, pointless plea for forgiveness. Then he squeezed. I heard the bullet split the air as it whizzed past my ear to an unseen target. I swung my gun off my shoulder just as Jacobson dropped the rifle and smiled proudly.
“Thanks, ol
d sport. I think I got it.” He walked around me, whistling congenially as I turned to stare after him.
Perhaps Belle had been right about the danger of going out with strangers with guns. I’d nearly killed a man while hunting.
“She’s a beauty,” he called from somewhere in the near distance.
Shouldering my rifle, I took a deep breath and tried to shake the sudden onslaught of nerves. I found Jacobson standing over a small doe.
“Give me a hand?”
I helped him heave the deer over his shoulders.
“Are you sure that’s smart?” I asked.
“If anyone else is hunting in these woods, they’ll have bigger problems than shooting me,” Jacobson said in a dry voice.
We carried the deer back to Stuart Hall. After our earlier conversation, I’d hoped to see his home. Perhaps he was just an opinionated man, but I couldn’t quite separate Belle’s discomfort from our earlier conversation. It was far from a radical view to question England’s desire to cling to its aristocratic roots. In a way, his open distaste for the titled and aristocratic class calmed me. He wouldn’t have said any of those things if he knew too much about Belle or her connections. It wasn’t in the British biology to be openly rude like that.
Gunther, the estate’s gamekeeper, met us on the edge of the park in a small golf cart.
“I see you got yourself a prize, Mr. Jacobson.”
“I did, Gunther. Would you be so kind?”
The ancient game warden was already loading it onto the cart as he asked. “Shall I send some venison to your house?”
“Yes. We’ll have to freeze it since we’ll be leaving soon for the city.”
“I appreciate your stalking abilities, sir. I’m not as good with my trigger finger as I once was.” Gunther clapped him over the shoulder.
“I’ve been helping to control the deer population,” Jacobson explained to me as we continued toward the main house. “Mary refuses to open the estate to public hunting parties, and poor Gunther is not up to the task I’m afraid.”