“You will not surrender to release until I give permission,” he informed her.
A whimper of frustration broke from her as she fought to comply, movements growing erratic, thighs quivering with the effort of denial.
“Please,” she whispered.
“What is it you want, Olivia? Use your words.” He took a nonchalant sip of his brandy, though his body was far from calm.
“Please, Your Grace ... may I come?” She spoke through clenched teeth, as if her pride were challenged.
He allowed her to hover on the precipice for several exquisite moments, watching desperation build in her expression. “No,” he said simply. “Stop what you are doing and stand before me.”
His fiery wife scowled at him, but she did as he instructed, which was the important part. She clenched her fists at her sides, staring at him with enough frustration that he thought she just might take a swing at him.
And if she did, she’d be bent over his lap in moments to be thoroughly spanked.
“Come sit on my knee, little one.” He swirled the amber liquid in his snifter before taking another drink, while she settled her naked bottom onto his leg.
She looked at him expectantly, irritation marring her perfect heart-shaped face. And she was breathtaking.
“Are you displeased, my wife?”
Olivia folded her arms over her chest, much like a spoiled child. He would need to guide her past that behavior soon, even if the sight made his cock throb painfully within his breeches.
“No, Your Grace.”
Victor downed his brandy, set the glass aside, and then grabbed the back of her neck. “You shall never lie to me. Do you understand?”
She nodded, then quickly blurted, “Yes, Your Grace.”
“When I ask you a question, you will always tell me the truth. Lie to me again, and I will need to correct your behavior. Now ... are you displeased?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” she replied through gritted teeth.
“And why is that, little one?” He softened his tone, ensuring she understood he wouldn’t be angry with her as long as she spoke honestly.
She drew a deep breath, and there were daggers in her eyes. “Because I would like to find release.”
Victor traced his fingers along her thigh, his wife instinctively spreading her legs wider in response.
“Are you a virgin, or did you partake in more than painting with your art friend?” He couldn’t hold back the disdain when he spoke the last word. As much as he shouldn’t, he hated the idea of someone else touching what was his to protect. And he would ensure that no one would ever do so again.
Olivia’s breath came in short pants as his fingers brushed along her damp seam. “I ... I ... am no longer a virgin.”
Victor released a low growl. He had assumed as much, and he forced himself to push his jealousy aside. “I am going to erase the memory of anyone but me from your mind, little one.”
Her breath caught, and her eyelids hooded with desire. She wasn’t unaffected by his words. Good.
“Take my cock out,” he commanded, while pushing a finger inside of her. She was soaked, and so tight that he was uncertain how much longer his restraint would hold out. He had already tortured himself beyond measure.
Her fingers fumbled with his falls, teasing the firm ridge beneath the fabric. He’d been hard all day, awaiting when he’d finally have her. When she freed him, his thick manhood protruded proudly before her. The wide look in her eyes wasn’t lost on him.
Still gripping her neck, he pulled her face to his. “Stroke me,” he said against her lips, before he kissed her again.
Her soft hand moving along his shaft threatened to undo all of his resolve.
He broke the kiss and shifted back, his gaze locked on Olivia’s, flushed as she sat bare on his knee, legs parted, her slick heat seeping against his thigh. She looked debauched already—untamed, although she hadn’t even been properly bedded. It thrilled him.
But it wasn’t enough.
