“It’s not too much,” she gasped, her stays no match for the way Frederick was making her breasts bounce from his thrusts.
He held himself on one muscular arm and brought the other to her neck. Running the backs of his fingers over her throat and then carefully wrapping his hand around a good deal of it, he asked, “And now, is this too much?”
Was it too much to have one’s husband come home and turn into the dominant beast of dreams? The only thing that would make this better is if he chased her in truth.
Her body must have responded in a way that signaled her pleasure because Frederick broke into a toothy grin, looking quite the predator.
“You like it,” he said. “Or at least your little pussy does.”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“I wonder what other unexpected things you might like, my lovely harpist.” He looked down at her adoringly, gently squeezing her neck and then releasing it.
“I like this,” she said in a small voice, finding that she rather enjoyed being held down while taking his enormous cock.
“Do you want other men?”
Her eyes widened. “You would do that? But your heir…”
“I’d give you anything your heart desires, Marianne. Maybe I’d fill your womb and send you to them with my child thickening your belly. Would you like that?”
She thought of that townhouse where men shared their wives with masked stags. It was close to what she wanted, but not quite.
“I think I’d like to do this only with you,” she said, reaching tentatively to touch his face.
Her husband couldn’t conceal his smile. “Is that so?”
“Yes, but…”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“I wonder if you have an estate in the country. One with an extensive park. You see, I’ve been having thoughts,” she said.
“Have you now?”
Frederick hoisted her thigh and leaned in close so Marianne might pour her filthy visions into his ear. When she made a particular request, he bucked into her hard and unleashed a moan that seemed to continue for ages.
The duke applied his thumb to her nub and stroked that spot until Marianne fluttered to a paroxysm that sent her back bowing off the carpet and channel milking her husband’s thickmember. He kissed her neck in a way somewhere between soothing and nipping.
“We can do that, my wife. I’ll see to making all of your fantasies real.”
Chapter 8
Frederick was in hiselement. He was back at Hartleigh Park, his seat, and he had spent the ride of several days giving his bride heated stares across the carriage while the presence of her lady’s maid forced him to behave decorously.
At night in the inns along the King’s Highway, Frederick would take her — he was a man newly married and deeply obsessed with his wife, after all — but he did so in the most shallow and gentle way possible, earning soft cries from Marianne, but not the dripping, unleashed pleasure they’d shared in the drawing room.
He was teasing her. Or rather, priming her. Getting her cunt so wet and swollen that even his roughest ministrations would feel heavenly after all of that coy play.
When they arrived at the house after a long, meandering drive through the extensive park, they’d parted at the door to the duchess’s chamber.
Marianne had plumped lips from all the biting she’d been doing on the road, he had an aching cock from the same games, and they finally had privacy. But the moment wasn’t yet perfect for the claiming.
“I hope you’ll be down later to welcome our guests,” said Frederick, casting his wife a heated stare.
“Guests?” she asked, taken aback that what she thought might serve as a honeymoon would become a house party.
“Yes, I invited some friends down from London. I think you’ll like them.”
