He caught her waist and dragged her forward, tight against his hard body. “That sounds like a challenge. And that means you come two more times before we’re done.”
“Simon—”
He cut her off with a hard, driving kiss as he hauled her across the room. He released her in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. She blushed as she stared at herself, hair still perfectly done, but utterly naked and trembling from release.
He grabbed a chair from in front of the fire and placed it before her, its upholstered back to her front. The chair blocked some of her view of herself, but there she still was with Simon looming up behind her in the reflection, his naked body nearly touching hers.
He caught her hands from behind and guided them to the back of the chair, gently closing her fingers around the top. “Hold on,” he ordered, his tone thick with desire. “And watch. You think you can’t take more? I’ll show you that you can.”
She caught her breath at this new side of the man who would be her husband. Simon was dangerous now, and yet she was anything but afraid. His driven desire was something she craved, not dreaded.
He positioned himself behind her, lifting her hips slightly before he spread her open and slid easily back inside her waiting body. This new position, combined with watching him curled over her, knowing that he was taking her, made her body flare with new and more powerful pleasure.
Her eyes widened as he began to thrust into her, hard and fast. He was hitting some place inside of her, some hidden place that felt just as good as when he touched her clitoris. She clutched at the back of the chair harder, staring at his straining face, mesmerized by her own parted lips and wanton movements of her body as she arched back to meet his thrusts. This was animal and lustful and oh, so very perfect.
He cupped her breasts from behind, lifting them, teasing the nipples as he watched them writhe together in the mirror. She dipped her head back, resting it against his bare shoulder as he continued to take her.
He let out a low moan and then caught one of her hands, gliding it away from the chair and down between her legs. He pressed her fingers against the slick nub of her clitoris and massaged there. Pleasure shot through her and she bucked against him.
“Just like that,” he whispered against her ear, thrusting harder now as he released her hand and left her to touch herself without his help. She ground down against her clitoris and back against his cock, reaching, reaching until for the second time her body spasmed in pure release and ultimate pleasure. This time it felt even more intense and she barked out a cry as she watched herself come in the mirror. Watched him as he made her come, a wicked smile tilting his lips.
Her pleasure had only just faded when he slid out of her and turned her into his arms. His mouth ground against hers, sucking her tongue, swirling his own around it. He pulled away and turned around the chair where he’d been taking her. He gently pushed her back until she sat, staring up at him in pleasure and confusion and utter surrender to anything and everything he would ever want to do to her.
He dropped to his knees before her, opening her by draping each of her legs over the chair arms. He dragged her forward to the very edge of the chair and met her gaze as he lowered his mouth and began to lick her. Her body was only just coming down from the edge of her previous two orgasms and his tongue swirled over her clitoris, taking her right back to the harsh edge between pleasure and pain.
She drove her fingers into his hair, pushing him in, rising like a wild wanton against his tongue and finding orgasm so quickly that her body nearly shook off the chair. He pressed his hands into her hips, holding her steady as he forced her pleasure further than she thought she could survive.
He watched her as she came the third time, and as her tremors faded he lifted her from the chair edge, pushing into her body as he carried her to his bed. He rested her against the edge and held her gaze as he stroked hard and fast just a handful of times. His face twisted and he growled out her name as he spilled his hot seed inside of her.
For a moment, they remained like that, bodies joined, him bracing himself over her, staring down at her. Then his eyes widened and his stare shifted. Almost like he had been caught up and now he truly saw what he’d done.
“Simon?” she whispered.
He stood up, backing away. His face was pale as paper. “I’m sorry, Meg.”
“Sorry?” she repeated as she gingerly lowered her legs and found she could, somehow, still bear her own weight.
“I treated you like a common—” He cut himself off. “This is what happens with you. I lose all reason, all sense.”
“If that is losing reason, I am all for it,” she said with a shake of her head.
“But look what it does. You heard them whisper, Meg. You know the cost.”
“Simon…” she began.
He raised a hand, turning his face away from hers. “Don’t,” he murmured. “Please don’t, Meg. I’ll—I’ll leave you to dress. To…fix yourself. I’m sorry.”
He said nothing more, but turned and strode through the adjoining door to his dressing room. She heard the key turn in the lock once he was gone and was left staring at the barrier now between them.
She was upset that he’d left her, of course. Every time he turned away it stung. But there was also hope inside of her. Simon was fighting a war inside of himself. A war that, if she won, might mean they could be happy.
So she picked up her chemise from the tangled mess of her gown on the floor, and went about planning for their next skirmish.
“I plan to win, Simon,” she said as she shimmied the thin fabric over her head. “I plan to win.”
Chapter Thirteen
Meg stood at the window, staring down over the drive. Below, James, Emma and her mother were bidding their guests goodbye, signaling an end to the country party that felt like it had begun a lifetime ago. In some ways, she supposed it had. So much had changed since it began.
