The pressure on her mouth increased as her husband pistoned into her body. Her breath grew short, her abdominal muscles tensing. She inhaled as deeply as she could, but it wasn’t enough. Her head grew light as her body wound tighter and tighter. She grabbed Sin’s wrist, her fingers going numb with how tightly she squeezed him.
Black spots danced before her eyes. (the rest of her body faded away until she was only the thin stream of air going in and out of her lungs and the pounding in her sex. And when she thought she couldn’t take any more, she broke.
Everything in her clenched. Her cunny around his cock, milking him deeper. Her arms around his back, holding him tight. Her jaw, her eyes. Intense pleasure ripped through her from head to toe, and she knew. Her husband had just transformed her. Released something she would never recover.
After experiencing such a moment of pure freedom, she didn’t think she could cage her nature back up.
His curses, rumbling in her ear, revived her from her daze. Sin gripped her shoulders with both hands, pulling her into his hips as he took her. Throwing his head back, he howled as he spent inside of her. The tendons in his neck bulged, his body jerking with his release.
She knew humans were animals, with the same needs to feed and procreate like any other. But she’d never understood just how close those primal forces lay under the veneer of civilization.
Her husband was a beast. And she loved it.
He collapsed over her, bracing his weight on his bent arms, his breath hot on her cheek. “Fuck me, wife.”
“I think I just did.” Was that pride in her voice? If so, it felt well-deserved.
“You also nearly took a finger off.” He raised his right hand and shook it, a wry smile creasing his face.
“What?” She grabbed his hand, looking for any broken skin. His index finger was reddened, with small indentations, but it was the scrapes on his wrist that stalled her heart.
A memory she’d long since forgotten flashed through her head. Images of bloody scratch marks on her father’s face. Of her mother’s hands, reaching for her.
Chills swamped her body. What had she done? A lifetime of good sense traded for a moment of pleasure. What if she’d drawn blood? Hurt him?
Wild things were put in cages.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her throat going tight.
“Don’t be. I like you high-spirited.” He sat next to her and fastened three of the four buttons on his falls, ignoring the loose thread from the torn one. Grabbing the saddle bag, he pulled slices of Dunlop cheese wrapped in cloth, two rolls, and a bottle of wine. “I didn’t bring any glasses so we’ll have to drink out of the bottle.” He chattered on, oblivious to the torrent of shame and self-loathing that turned her stomach.
She took the bottle and swigged back some wine. It didn’t help. Didn’t let her forget how out of control she’d become. The type of woman she’d allowed herself to be.Just like her mother.She refused the cheese, ignoring the worried glances her husband sent her way.
It was fortunate she’d enjoyed her moment of abandon. Because it would be her last.
***
Castle Kenmore came into sight and Sin blew out the breath he was holding. Had he worried that his wife was dispassionate? Nae, he should have been aggrieved that she was as variable as a changeling. In a wonderful frenzy one moment and as reserved as a nun the next.
He glanced at Winnifred from the corner of his eye. It was like constructing a wall out of sand when it came to building her trust. She had damned perverse ideas about how a woman should behave. Knowing the cause for her reticence did nothing to inform him on how to solve the problem.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have rutted her in an open field like a farm animal. She was shy enough in the bedroom, and that might be all she was ever comfortable with. But even as he thought it, the urge to fuck her in every room in his home, in his carriage, show her she belonged to him everywhere, gripped him low in the belly.
He tightened his grip on his reins. He’d never felt as undisciplined than he did when in her presence. He wasn’t certain he liked the feeling. Not when it went unreciprocated.
A page raced up as they brought the horses to a stop at the front steps. The boy gripped his horse’s bridle, gasping for breath. “Milord.”Pant, pant. “Urgent message jus’ came for ye. From the Duke of Montague.”
Sin jumped down and reached for Winnifred.
She winced when her feet touched the ground and dug a knuckle into her lower back. “He’s an acquaintance of yours, isn’t he?”
He rubbed her back as he took the missive. “Yes. A good friend.”
He handed the reins to the page and nodded toward the stables.
The boy tugged on his forelock and led the animals away.
Sin broke the seal and unfolded the letter. Another, smaller, missive was tucked inside, and he recognized the prime minister’s seal, before turning to his friend’s letter. His eyes flew over the scrawled words, his chest tightening as he read.
