She reviewed every single thing Sir Barrett had done or said to her that day, examining his actions, looking for fault. She felt irritable; she’d gladly bite his hand again if he put it in her way, even if it did mean a whipping. She slid her hand over her hip to her naked buttocks, squeezing one cheek to remember the sting of his hand, the agonizing welts of his crop. Why did that make her stomach somersault?
The pulsing between her legs had only become more insistent. What had he done to her? The memory of his tongue circling and penetrating brought a fresh wave of heat crashing over her. She slid her hand between her thighs and touched the wetness there. What had he said? Her body was readying for him? The sensation of her fingers against her sensitive pleats sent ripples of pleasure down her inner thighs. She began to stroke herself the way he had done, exploring her own anatomy with interest for the first time.
As she probed and teased, the same sort of urgency came over her. She began to pull against her mons, stretching her legs in the opposite direction, tightening her buttocks and thighs. Her bottom clenched and relaxed, undulating in rhythm with her hand, satisfying her and yet creating more need at the same time—like the scratching of an itch that only grows and grows.
Suddenly, a huge hand clamped down over hers, stilling it. “Naughty, naughty girl,” Barrett murmured in her ear. “Are you allowed to touch yourself?”
She groaned and pulled her fingers against her mons.
“Ah, ah,” he tsked, pulling her hand out from between her thighs and pushing her to her belly. “That’s a spanking, and I’m not inclined to go easy on you, either,” he said.
She hardly minded. A spanking might help scratch her itch.
He slid his fingers between her cheeks and found the shameful moisture. “Very naughty, Daisy. You’re soaking wet,” he said, taking his time to investigate, renewing her burning need with each circle of his fingertip.
“Ahh,” she moaned, pressing her hips into the bed and lifting them over and over again.
But he withdrew his fingers, bringing his hand crashing down on the middle of her buttocks, just above her sex.
She moaned again, her fingers burrowing into the soft woolen mattress. She lifted her bottom for more. If he wanted to punish her, she would take it—every swat. Hopefully it would quench the burning desire, put out the flames of lust she never wanted to feel.
He repeated the action, spanking her in the same delicious place where the reverberation went straight to her sex. He moved from where he’d been sitting beside her to the head of the bed, sitting with his back against the wall. “Lay yourself over my legs for a proper spanking,” he said, his voice gravelly.
She obeyed, crawling up to him and draping herself willingly over his thighs. To her satisfaction, he picked up exactly where he’d left off, spanking the sweet spot that went straight to her core. She arched for him, offering her bottom up, seeking each slap. It seemed like he could spank her all night and she’d never complain. She wanted it as much as she’d wanted his fingers to continue their tease. She tensed when a finger from his other hand slid between her buttocks, finding her most private hole. He circled the rim of her anus, all the while he continued to spank and she shattered, her body shivering, her hands diving between her legs as she bucked her hips.
Barrett kept spanking until it had passed and she collapsed in a limp heap. Even then, she would not have minded if he continued spanking her all night. The pain felt good, somehow. “I didn’t say you could climax, Daisy,” Barrett murmured.
She could not even bring herself to beg forgiveness.
“I ought to whip you with my sword belt for that.”
A second climax sent her bucking at his words.
He rubbed her bottom with hard, punishing strokes. “I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, my naughty little wife?” He bent over and kissed one of her blazing cheeks, confirming her suspicion that he was not in the least bit angry with her over the broken rule. All the irritation she’d directed toward him when she’d first laid down morphed into affection and even optimism. Mayhap this marriage might work for her, after all.
If only she could hold him off from ever consummating the thing.
Chapter Five
“Good morning, love.” Barrett stroked his palm up the baby-soft skin of Daisy’s back, noticing how rough his hands seemed in comparison.
She rolled over and blinked at him. She looked so innocent, so unspoiled. He had planned to continue his sexual torments with her that morning, but he couldn’t even bring himself to kiss her lips. Her beauty made his chest ache. He wanted more than just her body, he realized. As he had explained to her, he wanted her heart, mind, and soul. Every piece of her.
“Good morning,” she said, a tinge of color coming to her cheeks, as if she just remembered how they’d ended the previous night.
He kissed her forehead and rolled out of bed to get dressed.
“My lord?” she asked, sitting up and pulling the covers to her armpits to hide her bare breasts.
“Yes, Daisy?”
“Are you going to…” she dropped her eyes to the bedcovers, “lock me up again today?” she asked, plucking at a stray thread.
His heart twisted. “No, sweet girl,” he said before he’d even had a chance to consider his options. “Did you say you liked to hunt?”
Her face lifted, shining with expectation. “Aye, my lord. Will you take me?”
Resisting her child-like joy would be an impossibility. “If you promise to be respectful at breakfast this morning.”
