“My rule against goading, Elizabeth, applies only to yourself. Though I will clarify that I do not, in fact, goad. I strategically position to elicit sympathy from a woman who loves to gossip, so that her visits here report to society how swimmingly well we get along, and how filthy rich I am.”
Everything he did was calculating in nature, Elizabeth thought, nursing her resentment as she chewed her lip.
“You are quite attractive when angry, wife.” His eyes glowed alarmingly. “Shall I return you that great favor I promised?”
Before she could tell him to rot in hell, Gerald appeared. “Your next caller’s arrived, Lady Milton. A Mrs. Ogilvy, ma’am.”
Milton’s gaze remained locked on Elizabeth. “Show Mrs. Ogilvy to the picture gallery, Gerald, to buy us some time.”
“Very good, sir.” The butler vanished.
“I see.” Elizabeth was now livid. “So Mrs. Ogilvy can wait, but Lady Stanton could not? Just what are you playing at, sir? I should like to know the reason why you?—”
He spun her about to press her up against the sideboard.
“Would you like that favor or not,” he whispered gruffly into her neck, his hands reaching up her legs until he muttered “Fuck!” and cursed Ginny roundly.
“Unhand me!” She tried to push him off, but he only bunched her skirts higher, telling her to hold them up, damn it, as he yanked her drawers clean to the floor. He ordered her to step out,now,before he flung the offending garment clear across the room and landed a smack to her bared backside.
Elizabeth found herself in the awkward position of being arse up against a table of decanters, forced to hold her skirts high, naked below her waist but for her stockings and slippers.
“Let me guess,” Milton growled. “Ginny relayed my order, and you ordered her the opposite.”
Well, yes.
“There is a reason why you’ve no need for drawers, Lizzie, and that is because I shall have you—and reprimand you—whenever and wherever I wish. Ifit should take longer than a month for you to become pregnant then of course you’ll don rags, but otherwise you will remain naked at all times beneath your dress, whether at home or away, available to me. Do I make myself clear?”
“Bastard,” she muttered, mortified by the position he kept her in.
“What was that, wife?”
“Of course, sir.” She seethed.
He slipped his handthereto find her, damnation, wet. She did not like how her body betrayed her rational mind one bit.
Milton gripped the nape of her neck, while his other hand began a wicked dance between her thighs. “I think we have just enough time for that great favor, wife. Shall I fuck you now to improve your mood?”
Elizabeth’s loins ached with greed, but shewould notanswer yes.
Would. Not.
“Come now, Lizzie, I can hold you here in agony or give you what you want. You need only say it, darling. Say you want a fast fuck, sweetheart. Say it and my prick will grant your wish.”
Inside Elizabeth, two minds warred for control—sane, rational Lizzie and wanton, insensate Lizzie. The two shouted at her, equally insistent.
Milton slid a finger into her throbbing flesh. “Say it, luv. I know y’ want me.” He dared her to defy what her person desperately craved.
“Y-yes!” she stuttered in anger, legs shaking under his touch. “Yes, blast you, Milton.Fuck me.”
***
Oh, it was delicious to fuck one’s own wife in one’s own parlor: a sinful, sumptuous delight. Milton thrust with abandon into her molten cunny—a cunny he owned, and a cunny that craved cock as much as that cock craved her.
She was perfection, his Elizabeth, a precious lady wholly histo plunder, obedient to his every beck and call. Last night she’d exceeded his expectations. He’d wanted to stay in bed with her all day.
Alas, the world would not wait.
He fucked his lovely new wife good and long there in his parlor, and once he’d shot his seed—taking root, he prayed—Milton buttoned his fall and smacked her arse before he lowered her skirts. He turned Elizabeth around to adjust her crooked eyepiece and noted the tiny beads of sweat covering her forehead. The scent of her arousal lingered in his nostrils as he leaned in to lick her cheekbone.
