“Now,” she repeated. “For if I am to give you that family you crave, we’d best get to it.”
He laughed, warmly, from his gut. “Purely for reasons of procreation the lady wishes to bed her husband, eh?”
“Jasper, I am not?—”
“You are no simpleton, Lizzie, no demurring wife.” His lips curved. “No, you are a hoyden who must be fucked, well and often, only not always in bed.” He began to untie her painting smock.
“Jasper, we cannot?—”
“You are to call me master or sir when we play, woman, and right now I wish very much to play.” His hands continued their work as his normally blue eyes smoldered grey.
Elizabeth thrilled with anticipation.
He yanked her dress to her waist. “Be a good wife and go lock the door. Then stand before me and strip.”
She flushed to her roots. “Here?” she asked. “In your office?”
“Yes, here.” His eyes flashed. “Over the footstool. Many a night I’ve dreamt of such a moment and now that you are willing, I’ll not deny myself the pleasure.”
Elizabeth hurried to do as bid. When she returned she stood before him and stepped out of her dress.
He stared at her as if he wished to tear the remaining garments from her himself. Instead, he pushed her to her knees, a sly grin upon his lips. “Does it thrill you to acquiesce, Elizabeth?”
The moment demanded honesty. “Sometimes,” she whispered.
“Does it arouse you to obey me?”
“Yes,sir,” she hissed as his hand encircled her neck. Desire pooled in her gut.
“Then I was right about you, sweetheart.” He spoke softly. “There is no shame in submission, Lizzie, there is instead great strength. It pleases me to command you, it pleases you to obey, and our pleasure need be that simple. This, too, a form of release.”
Elizabeth’s longing for this man was so counter to all she thought of herself that she puddled right there on the floor.
“Touch yerself, luv,” he ordered wickedly. “Strip bare fer me an’ touch yourself. I want t’ watch you spend afore I fuck yer t’ within an inch o’ yer life.”
Elizabeth died and went to heaven. Or perhaps, she went to hell and back with this man. She didn’t care. She’d take communion with her devil of a husband if it meant learning, knowing his soul.
The more he revealed, the more she understood. And wanted.
“Bella!” His wife startled upright, naked on his lap.
Blast.Milton was sure he’d made her woes disappear by sating her completely. But no.
“Lizzie, there is nothing we can?—”
“Jasper, my spectacles.”
He pulled them from his pocket and placed them on her nose, only to suffer the full force of her frown.
“You must tell me why you trust this man Harris, whyIshould entrust my sister to his care. I shall not rest until I know all, sir. You shall not distract me again.”
He wanted to kiss away her crease of consternation but knew this conversation was inevitable. The day was rife with talk.
“Arthur Harris is like a brother to me, Lizzie. His mum was a whore, same as mine. We grew up together, looked out for each other.”
“So he is family, like Miss Li?”
“Yes, though being older I took Arty under my wing, at first.” She snuggled deliciously back into his arms. “That’s what we call him, though he hates the name.” He suppressed a grin. “But Arty’s treatment of women has always been impeccable.”
