“What’s this?” asked Frederick, rising from his seat with authority, cock in hand. “Is a little fox trying to get fucked?”
Marianne whimpered, knowing what was coming and expecting the pleasure of a rough fuck.
“Open those thighs for me,” said Frederick, slapping his cock against his wife’s arse as he joined her on the floor. “Wider.”
He took in her wet slit, just as ready as he was, and thanked the wind in the trees, the maker of harps, his wife’s ancestors, and all the Grand Bucks before him for bringing them together.
“I heard you like it soft like a springtime drizzle, little vixen,” he said.
“No,” she cried, her fingers digging into the fine carpet to maintain some traction when her husband finally relented andgave in to her wish to be taken hard. “I want it like animals do in the forest. I want to be mounted.”
Frederick dragged his cockhead through her sopping slit and let it slide over her straining little nub. Nevertheless, he didn’t push into that tight hole, didn’t test his wife’s limits as she wished he would.
“But animals do so for a reason,” he said, flexing his hips to tease the entrance of her clasp while never sinking inside.
“A reason?”
“They do so to breed. To make new life. Do you think you can take this seed and give me a litter?”
“Put it in and find out,” she huffed.
He laughed and grasped her shoulder, bringing her down hard on his cock. He’d impaled her to the root, then he paused for a moment to let her feel it.
“If I came right now, I’d paint your womb. Good chances of a litter.”
“If you think you can get away with one stroke before seeding me, you have another think coming, Frederick. This isn’t our wedding night!”
The duke howled, loving that his wife begged for nothing more than being dominated in bed — or on the forest floor, when they could get away — while also growing into her role as duchess in every way. Including telling her aristocratic husband exactly what he needed to do to make her happy.
He teased the rim where he stretched her cunny and touched her puffy lips, so welcoming around his cock. Then he let his fingers glance over that swollen nub that never failed to get his wife shaking with pleasure.
“That’s a good girl, a fine little duchess, swallowing up my cock. Take it,” he said, thrusting hard and letting her determine how to stay upright.
“I’m trying!” she cried out.
“Now, don’t you have something to tell me?” he asked, fondling her clitoris with feathery touches.
“Tell you?” she asked, her voice going higher.
Frederick grasped her hips and drove himself home hard, earning him wails of pleasure. My, she was a game girl, the only desire of his heart.
“I happened to see the doctor on the way out of the house.”
“Did you?” she asked faintly.
“Dr. Riddle. I think he specializes in something.”
“Does he?”
In a moment, Frederick had them turned around, and he covered her on the floor while facing her so they could have a conversation. Cradled between her thighs, he rocked deep and studied her reaction.
“Might you have something to tell me?” he asked, trying to keep his hopes in check in the event the news wasn’t what he wished.
“Well,” she said, licking her lips, “when a very virile stag chases down a hind on his estate, sometimes there’s a result.”
His heart felt like it was going to leap out of his body. He needed to maintain his masculine control. But!
“Are we certain there’s a result?” he asked softly.
