“What does she say?” I ask.
“She is moved by his declaration. It pleases her.”
“Most women in England would find it strange. Reproduction is supposed to be the point of marriage. It is all they have ever been taught.”
“She is different. She finds it unusual that he is so ardent on the subject.”
He eases into me. I gasp at the intrusion. I am not quite as prepared as usual—but I find the extra friction pleasurable.
“He asks her if he may fill her with his seed.”
I close my eyes. I pretend that I am in the story. This warm, cozy tale. I am not sure where it ends and my reality with Alfred begins.
“And what does she say?”
“I don’t know, Annabelle—what does she say?”
“You’re the one who has read the book.”
“Let’s pretend I haven’t. What would she say?”
He withdraws from me and then enters again and the sensation makes me pliable. I think I might enjoy pretending I am someone else. On this night, of all nights, when I have crossed this threshold that I thought I never would.
“She would agree. She wants to be with child. With his child.”
He murmurs above me—and I can tell he is pleased.
“Doesn’t this sweet pussy want my seed?” he says, sliding in and out of me. I am wetter now and my muscles have relaxed around him. “Are you going to deny me my release inside of you? When you are my own wife?”
I say nothing, unsure of what I should say, feeling guilty about both an assent or a denial.
“At least tonight,” he says, “On our wedding. Let me fill you. Think of it as your wedding gift to me.”
I whimper at the stark intimacy of his words.
“And what is your gift to me?”
“The very same,” he says. “I suspect you want it. You have urged me to it many times.”
I bite my lip to keep from moaning. He is right. He doesn’t know, in fact, how right. Of course now, it would mean something different now. I imagined getting with his child and discarding him. It will not be so simple now. Especially now that we are married.
He pulls out of me fully.
“I need your assent,” he says, the head of his cock back at my entrance. He opens me just a little.
“Yes,” I gasp, not having any resistance within me. “Yes.”
He plunges back into me and ruts me roughly. It feels so good—as if we were made to do this together.
Just as I have that thought, he stops and withdraws.
“No. Please,” I beg.
His large hands close around my waist. He turns me on my back.
“I want to see your face when I fill you.”
His cock looks nearly as angry and engorged as the first time I saw it. I freed him then from himself. I gave him everything that he was told he wasn’t allowed to have.
