I press her against the wall. She gasps.
“I know what I was when I met you, Annabelle,” I say in her ear. “Unpracticed, untried, completely lost, and at your mercy. And I will always be at your mercy, my love, but I also will not deny my desires. Not when it comes to you.”
I am so hard and the front of my trousers pressing into her delectable ass—that she bared to me so beautifully last night when she rode me from behind—only makes me more so. I have her pinned to the wall now. She can’t move.
“Even if it is again mywill?”
“No, Annabelle,” I say in her ear. “Because I know how to make you beg for it.”
I reach under her skirts. I bring my fingers to her clit, the place that she did not let me touch in the breakfast room when she rode me. She struggles away from me, but I hold her still—and it is not lost on me that her movements of resistance are half-hearted. I begin to play with her gently. Soon she is panting, wet and glorious on my fingers, but I do not let her come.
I stroke my fingers in and out of her, playing with her delicious wetness.
“I am going to take you against this wall right here and right now.”
With shaking fingers, I undo the placket of my trousers once more and bring the head of my cock to her entrance.
“Let me inside of you. Give me what I want, Annabelle,” I declare, hot and needy in her ear. I am not sure what has come over me except that I feel irate, maddened, incensed.
“No,” she says. “You may not.”
I push the head of my cock against her harder, still not entering her, and she gasps. Her hot cunt hungrily pulses on my cock. Her body makes it clear that she wants this too. I want to plunge myself into her so badly and I know I will come almost instantly. But I need her assent.
“You want this, Annabelle,” I say. “I can feel it.”
I give another swipe of her entrance with the engorged head of my cock and she whimpers against the wall.
“Do you need to hear me say it? How much I need you? How much I need your perfect pussy? That I need no other purpose in my life than filling this little cunt?”
She lets out a moan so visceral that I nearly come right there.
But then ever so slightly she tilts her hips back so that I enter her an inch.
That is all the agreement I need. I am fully inside of her in an instant, thrusting in and out of her roughly as she cries out.
It lasts no longer than thirty seconds. I come, shuddering violently. And she does the same, rapidly, as if she had not come in the breakfast room fifteen minutes ago.
The release is cleansing. A complete relief. White hot pleasure followed by sweet oblivion.
And then a cold terror descends on me.
It occurs to me that I was a beast. I realize that the only assent she gave me was that small motion of her hips.
I draw back suddenly, terrified that I have violated her, that I have forced her against her will.
“Annabelle,” I croak. "I—I am?—"
But I find I cannot speak.
Chapter 29
Annabelle
Well, well, I think, as I come down from yet another orgasm.
I hadn’t known that Alfred Saintsbury hadthatin him. I certainly hadn’t intentionally attempted to find out. But I was riled by his provocation of me in front of the servant and so I decided it was time to give him a little test.
Under the right circumstances he has no problem, it appears, being forceful and dominant. I have always loved his nervousness and his willingness to submit—I have enough force and domination for two people after all—but it turns out that I also like when he snaps. When he is driven into a frenzy.
