‘Be silent.’ His voice was sharp, and he ordered, ‘You will not speak. You will not move. You will obey me, for you are my wife, and I may do with you as I wish.’
The hand upon her bottom moved lower, and she felt her body respond to the wicked touch. It was sinful, so very wrong. But when Warrick’s fingers moved lower between her thighs, a surge of aching wetness dampened her intimate flesh. Pleasure and need coursed through her body, and he began to stroke her.
He was relentless, circling his thumb against her hooded flesh. Warrick knew exactly how to draw out her response, and she understood what this was.
Revenge.
His fingers dipped inside her wetness, filling her. He didn’t plunge hard, but instead played with her body, tantalising her with a gentle surge and withdrawal. She moaned, her breathing growing more excited as he led her closer and closer to the edge.
It had been three years since she had felt like this. Her mind knew it was wrong, and yet, her body could not stop responding to him. His other hand touched her bottom, and she could not stop pressing back against his fingers inside her. She was losing control of herself, unable to grasp a single thought.
‘Alan?’ she pleaded, praying her husband would put an end to this wickedness. Was he still here?
‘Lie still and I will see this done.’ There was rage within his voice, the hateful anger of a man who wanted an heir so badly, he would stop at nothing.
But it was not Alan’s hands upon her. She knew it with every breath she took, with every shocking pulse of pleasure rising inside. Her husband wanted her to take Warrick within her body, and Alan was past the point of reason—especially if he had taken matters this far.
The hands touching her were not demanding, nor were they threatening in any way. Instead, Warrick was doing exactly what he had promised. He was showing her all that she had missed during these three years. His thumb began to circle her intimate flesh with a different pressure, and he stilled the thrust of his fingers. Now, she felt a different sort of deepening quiver within her womb. He rolled her to her back, still rubbing her intimately.
Warrick continued his onslaught while his left hand reached higher towards her naked breast. Rosamund cried out when he touched her erect nipple, gently twisting it as he thrust with his other hand. She could not stop the moan from escaping her, and she desperately tried not to take pleasure from this.
She heard the soft click of the passageway closing and knew that Alan had left. He would not witness the rest.Thank God.
His departure marked her own decision. If she wanted to stop now, she could. Alan would never know what happened between them.
She was torn apart by what was right and what was not. Was it a mistake to give Alan what he wanted and join with the man who had been her first husband? God help her, she was so confused. Shehadspoken vows to Warrick, binding him as her husband. And then her father had forced her to marry Alan, abandoning her first marriage. She had obeyed his orders to save Warrick’s life.
But what if shewasstill married to Warrick? What if this marriage to Alan had been invalid all along?
Or was it only her mind trying to justify the sin?
Warrick’s mouth lowered to her breast, and a dark spear of lust drove straight through her. Her hands gripped the edges of the sheets, and she was barely able to breathe. He took her to the edge, and then slowed his caress, pushing her back again.
Her body was pulsing like a living heartbeat, and she wanted him so badly, she wanted to weep.
‘Please,’ she begged. His tongue slid over her nipple, suckling and pulling at her until she was writhing against him. Then she heard a rustling noise, and she felt his shaft at her wet entrance. She tried to guide him, but his strong arms held her fast.
He was teasing her again, showing her what she had been missing.
She wanted to tell him that she knew what was happening, that it was not Alan touching her. But another part of her was furious with her husband for treating her like this—for his deception and his own part in this night. She wanted to lash back at him, for he saw her as nothing more than a vessel for his heir. Alan cared about none of her feelings or her sense of honour.
Hehad begun this night, wanting her to believe that she was giving her body to him.
But she was not stupid. She knew Warrick was touching her, and she wanted her own vengeance against her powerless state.
And so, she gave in to the rush of sensation, arching her hips until the suffocating pleasure rose into a shimmering peak. She squeezed the inner muscles of her womanhood until she broke apart, shattering as Warrick gave her the release she’d sought. A cry of ecstasy escaped her lips, and she wanted to weep from it.
Warrick was poised at her entrance, his thick erection barely inside her. And before she could change her mind, Rosamund reached for his hips and pulled him inside her, their bodies joining together.
Warrick did not take her roughly, as he could have. Instead, he slowed his pace, sliding within so that she felt every inch of his shaft. There was tenderness and she met his thrusts while he claimed her. The heaviness of desire gathered inside, pushing her back towards the edge. She lost sight of everything, save the sharp pleasure that heightened within. He took her breast in his mouth again, and the hot pressure was enough to drive her over the brink. She allowed the blissful tide to carry her under, squeezing him tightly as he pulled back and penetrated her again.
Rosamund let him ride her, arching and meeting him as he plunged. He was starting to lose his own control, and she wanted that from him. She heard him hiss as she crossed her ankles beneath him, giving him an added pressure as he entered and withdrew. It forced him to give more shallow penetrations, but she could tell that it was driving him into madness. Over and over he pumped into her, and she came apart once again, the heat of her body erupting and seizing all around him.
Warrick withdrew from her and pushed her back to her stomach, this time invading her flesh with more speed. His pace was gruelling, and she heard a cry tear from her lips as he slammed against her in a reckless plunder of aching flesh. With each thrust, she took her own revenge against her husband’s wicked orders.
And she felt the moment Warrick tensed, his body rigid with iron need. He grunted and thrust, pouring himself into her. She quaked beneath him, feeling his hard release as she accepted his seed.
For a moment, he lay atop her, his rigid body embedded within. Rosamund said nothing at all, but her body continued to shudder with the aftershocks. Her emotions were battered, and she felt the terrible guilt shadowing her when he withdrew from her body.
