He rubbed his thumb over her nipple until it stood up, then he pinched.
Daisy gave a surprised squeak.
He slid his hand down the flat plane of her belly until he reached the silky thatch of curls between her legs.
She pressed her thighs together, but he pried open her top knee.
“Leave them open,” he commanded, desire roughening his voice.
“Please, Sir Barrett—” she began as he slid his middle finger over her delicate folds. Her natural lubrication began to flow immediately and he spread it up and down her pleats while she gasped and jerked.
He began to circle her stiffened peak at the same time he bent his head and caught her nipple between his lips.
“Ah… ah,” she moaned, arching and contracting, shifting around in confusion.
“That restlessness is desire growing within you.”
She shook her head. “No, it is not,” she said breathlessly.
He began to penetrate her with one finger, pressing the heel of his hand firmly against her pleasure center all the while.
Daisy groaned.
“It is, little wife. You feel that sense of urgency. You think you want me to stop, but in fact, you want me to go on.”
“No—” she gasped.
He sucked her nipple hard, then released it, removing his hand from between her legs. “No?”
She let out another gasp and blinked up at him.
“I will not bring you to climax until you beg me to take you, the way a man takes his wife.”
She rolled away, her cheeks flushed. “I care not about climax,” she said in a shaky voice. She climbed out of the bed and snatched up her chemise, tugging it over her head as if she could not cover herself quickly enough.
“I will make you care,” he said. “And do not forget—I forbid you to touch your own quim. It is for me and me alone. I will most certainly punish any attempt on your part to pleasure yourself. Understand?”
She shook her head, then changed the motion to a nod.
“Answer me when I speak to you,” he said. “Or are you looking for more punishment?”
“Yes, sir. I mean no, sir,” she said, hurriedly stepping into her gown.
He walked over and took the laces from her trembling hands, cinching the bodice for her. He had the perfect view of her two ripe breasts, lifted and framed by the gown. He took his time tying a bow, his fingers brushing the creamy skin of the tops of her breasts.
Her lips twitched, her eyes darted about the room. He still smelled the scent of her nectar on his fingers and from her.
“Give me your hands.”
“What?” she asked, looking dismayed. “Why?”
“I still cannot trust you, love, especially outside of my locked chamber. I have to bind your wrists again.”
“Surely not. I have not attempted escape since you brought me here, nor have I threatened your life again.”
He smiled his most wicked smile. “I’m sorry, lady. You still have not earned my trust.”
She huffed, her jaw setting in a stubborn line.
