She tightened her hold on his hair and directed him to that nub that he sucked so well into his mouth. The reaction was immediate: she stopped even trying to play the harp with her free hand and used it to steady her shaking body as the duke lavished her with worshipful kisses.
“Frederick, it’s so fast, I’m going to—”
“That’s right, you are,” he said before returning to his ministrations, placing his hand over hers so she couldn’t drop it from controlling his head.
With the other, he wiggled one finger into her channel as he continued to lick and suck. The wet sounds were loud even to her ears, and Marianne looked around the room, noticing the open doors the staff could pass at any moment.
“What if someone sees or hears us?” she asked frantically as something grew tighter and closer with every stroke of his tongue and fingers.
“They’ll say the duke is in love with his new bride.”
Those words! Her heart swelled with hope and fear of hope, all while he pleasured her as if to prove he was not lying about having been a libertine.
“Your little puss sucked me when I said that,” he said, smiling from where he looked up. “You like it, do you?”
“Yes, Frederick, yes,” she gasped as he twisted that clever finger.
It was all too delicious, and the only thing that would make it more so was if he were pinning her down, making her submit to his will, and shoving himself inside of her. All while wearing a stag mask.
Marianne didn’t modulate her scream of pleasure as she exploded on that seat where she’d expected to play lonely songs all night. Frederick licked and sucked her bump as if unwilling to stop, drawing out the shakes that made her fearful of landing beside him.
When her husband eased her to the floor with him and arranged her skirts, she was so drunk on her orgasm that he could position her like a doll without resistance. Frederick roughly opened his trousers while looking at the mess he’d made of her.
Marianne wanted to cover herself and show some decorous shame, but she simply moaned.
“It might make me bad, but I enjoy seeing you wet, boneless, and intoxicated by pleasure,” he said softly, lowering himself over her.
“I love it,” she sighed, letting him arrange her limbs as he liked and enjoying the sensation of his gigantic body coming over hers.
“You almost look defeated.”
“I am. Like a fox at the end of a hunt.”
“And yet you seem to like it,” he said, his cock out now, his hand stroking it to full hardness as he surveyed his wife’s body. “The fox doesn’t fare well at the end of a hunt.”
“Chase me down,” she mumbled, not bothering to think about how her words might sound. “I suspect that with you, I’d fare very well indeed.”
Frederick’s eyes widened and then he was a flurry of movement. His cock was at her entrance. It slid in with a speed and depth she’d not expected.
“You feel that?” he asked, his mouth over hers.
Her shoulder blades pressed against the carpet on the floor as if pinned back. And he speared her inside with what turned out to be a very substantial male member.
“It feels different,” she said.
“I gave you more this time.”
“More? Not all?” she asked, panic setting in.
He shifted his hips and went deeper. “Do you feel that, my little vixen? Do you want that now? To feel like a fox? You want your husband to chase and hunt you?”
“Oh, Frederick,” she moaned. “You do not know how I’ve dreamed of that.”
His face turned from confusion to fury in an instant. At first, she thought he was angry. Instead, lust consumed him, and he used it to move in and out of her at a punishing pace.
“Is it too much?” he grunted, all while continuing to open her for his pleasure. She’d felt nothing of the like, her body suddenly under his control completely as she moved incrementally over the woven fibers of the carpet because of the strength of his thrusts.
Their bodies came together in ways Marianne couldn’t have imagined, the noise percussive and wet, a consistent beat over which their moans played.
