“Are you going to get that little pussy wet for me?”
“For you?”
He took their fingers lower and let them run over her nub and down to her hole. “For me. Other men might use this, but you’re still mine.”
Somehow, the hand across her midsection had found its way to her breast, which fit entirely within his hold. Ann looked down, taking in how completely she was in her husband’s possession, and felt the first tremors of pleasure in her abdomen.
“Not yet,” he said sternly.
“You sound like a father,” she said wryly, thinking of that man who had wrangled a marquess for his ruined daughter of inconsequential birth.
“I’m not your father,” said Edmund, bringing their fingers back up to slide over that straining nub.
And then he moved their hands in a circle to tease all around where she wanted contact the most.
“I’m your husband.”
Ann drew breath so fast she could barely hear the end of the word. What was he saying? That he wanted to…be married to her? Publicly, before his Grand Buck brothers? His hold suggested nothing platonic and everything carnal, and she hoped he would explain his meaning, but he simply flexed his thighs to spread her legs further apart.
“Open for me,” he grunted, his body moving beneath hers. She needed to feel him right on her nub, petting it until she exploded as she had done so many nights while alone in Shropshire, but he pulled their fingers back and caressed her lips.
“Edmund, please,” she whispered, feeling more needy than ever before. He had her pleasure within his power and he was choosing to deny it!
“Is my wife going to get soft for me?”
He had to know what he was doing to her based on how she squirmed in his lap, how she chased the feeling of their fingers. She was so under his control that she barely registered the other men in the room or the sounds of music nearby. Or that her husband’s cock was hardening below her.
“I’ll be good for you,” she said tentatively, still worried that he might toss her aside for another fourteen years if she made some wrong move.
“Are you going to let me inside?” he asked, guiding their fingers to trace the entrance of her channel. Around they went, setting her nerves afire. She wished he’d just do the thing and make her combust, but Edmund seemed patient. Meanwhile, she wanted him hard and fast!
“I want you inside,” she said, her voice shaky and pleading as Edmund fit their index fingers together and set them at the entrance of her channel.
“We’ll go in together,” he said, pushing slowly in.
How could there be any doubt that she was wet enough to take the Bucks? Their fingers slid to the first knuckle with no resistance, and Ann’s abdomen flexed on its own as tremors began from within.
“Not yet,” Edmund crooned. “Breathe through it. Don’t go shattering on me and tightening up. We need to open this little pussy up.”
Ann closed her eyes, trying to remain in control as her body begged for release on their fingers. Would that she could rock and erupt as she longed to, but she needed to be good for Edmund. Her husband.
“A bit further now,” he said, pressing them inside until they could go no deeper, their hands tangled between her thighs. “Look at us, sweetheart.”
She wanted to mewl, roll around in his endearment, but she forced herself to focus on the sensation.
And then he moved his thumb. Oh, god, he must have tupped every woman in London to know how to play her body like the notes drifting from behind that tapestry. Edmund stroked so lightly over her bump that Ann had to grip the armrests of that throne to keep herself from collapsing entirely into orgasm.
“You know what that feeling is, Annie?”
He was too cruel, she thought as her nails dug into the chair at his endearment. He’d been storing up fourteen years of pleasure only to inflict it on her all at once — precisely at the moment other men were supposed to impregnate her!
“No?”
“No what, Annie?”
“No…husband?”
“You don’t know what your pussy is doing?” he asked. “You haven’t stroked your little kitty cat while alone in your bed?”
