She thrashed against her bonds as Milton strolled to her door to turn the key, making her heart race even more. Did Papa know this man was in their house, alone with her in her bedroom? Who had let him enter unannounced?
Milton approached her from behind and began to slowly unhook her dress, causing Elizabeth’s heart, if possible, to beat faster.
“You do not realize, Lizzie, that in compliance you gain far more than in defiance. You gain my ardor, my respect, and, of course, my trust.” He undid the last clasp, pushing her dress off her shoulders. “You gain my skill, too, as a lover.” He nipped the back of her neck with his teeth. “For a whore knows how to grant pleasure, Miss Winthrop, and I do not think you are immune to bodily lust. Are you?” His lips rounded her shoulder, his tongue tracing a path to the swell of her chest.
Elizabeth let out a strangled moan.
“I didn’t think so.” He stepped before her but allowed his hands, at her back, to now loosen her stays, pulling the cords even as his tongue dipped between her breasts.
A shiver wracked her flesh.
“Give me your submission and I will give your body what it wants, Lizzie. Let your mind go.”
Her breasts tingled painfully in response.
“Are you wet for me yet, Miss Winthrop?” He nuzzled her neck. “Do you ache for my touch, sweet Elizabeth?” His hand squeezed one breast. “Surely you’d not deny your betrothed the right to explore.” He yanked down her bodice in one fluid motion, releasing both her breasts at once.
“Buds as rose colored as your lips.” For a long moment he simply admired her aching, pointed nipples. “Shall I suckle them, Elizabeth? Shall I taste your tips and make you spend?”
The man’s voice, his words alone, drove impulses and sensations inside her which Elizabeth did not know existed. His hands began to knead her breasts until desire pooled between her legs, and then,thenhe traced his tongue across the expanse of one orb to inhale the tip, pulling her bud deep into his mouth until his groan of pleasure shot straight to her groin, making her gush.
“You see, Lizzie dear, if you learn your lessons well, satisfaction awaits. A wife, after all, should enjoy her husband’s attentions, much as he enjoys hers. I promise you great pleasure, if you learn to obey. You must submit to your husband.”
He abruptly stepped away to pull up a chair before her, seat himself in it, and then cross one leg over his thigh. She remained bound to the bedpost in anguish, her breasts exposed to both him and the room’s chill air. He removed his timepiece and glanced at it, before he popped it back into his pocket and leisurely dragged his gaze across her, head to toe.
***
Bound and gagged, breasts puckered into two glistening points thanks to his tongue’s labors, Miss Winthrop was more exquisite than Milton had dreamed. He could smell her arousal, knew she must be drenched for him. God, did he want to fuck this woman.
He stared at his bride’s flushed face. “It is a quarter to two, my dear, and I do not wish to be late for your final fitting. Would you prefer to remain as you are, desperate for my touch, or will you nod your head and be my obedient wife?”
Her eyes blazed at him for answer.
“Nod once for yes, Lizzie.”
She did not blink.
“Did you not hear me? I said?—”
He watched her slowly shake her head, then shut her eyes in defiance.
Milton stood from the chair, sighed, and stepped an inch from her face. “Whymust you make this harder than it is?” He cupped her cheek with his hand just as her knee came up hard into his groin, knocking the wind from his lungs as he doubled over in pain, roundly cursing, “Fuck!”
When he looked up, her eyes smiled at him above her gag.
Half an hour later, Milton stared longingly at his betrothed, seated across from him in stunning, stony silence. She flinched at each rut the carriage wheels hit.
He’d never been so aroused in all his life to have this minx knee him in the groin like a proper friggin’ doxy. She’d been magnificent, his bride, even if he’d had to bend her over his kneefor another stark spanking. He’d let no one, most especially not his futurewife, beat him at his own game. Yet even while being thrashed she’d not cried once—not once!—and he’d not been gentle either. Afterward, he’d hauled her to his carriage, never mind her disheveled state.
He gazed at Miss Winthrop with not a little awe, while she returned his look with contempt.
“As for today’s lesson, Lizzie, tell me, my dear, what did you glean from your time affixed to your bedpost?” He flexed his palm, still tingling from having tanned her backside.
“Not to knee you in the bollocks, sir.” Her eyes flashed.
“A quick learner.” He suppressed the urge to laugh. “I can scarce believe my good fortune in purchasing you for a wife.”
“Nor mine for seeing you renderedincapacitated, sir.”
