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“No?” His devilish fingers were doing something, unraveling her sanity with twists and thrusts. “Are you certain?”

“Y—yes,” she said impatiently, wriggling against his hand. This earned another of those befuddling slaps, sending stars and something hot and dark right through her throbbing clit. “Please, my lord.”

“You want to be thrown down and fucked however I want?”

She knew the correct answer, but before she uttered it, she changed her mind, nodding before she even realized it. “I want ... to please you.”

He pulled his hand away, leaving her moaning in confused loss until his arms slid under her, lifting. Amy’s dazed mind scarcely parsed arousal from reality until the fireside rug’s worn floral pattern rose up to meet her. Nicholas lay her face down and nudged her legs apart. “Stay.” The command was cold iron, freezing her momentarily in place while he got up and went to the bed.

He returned with the bottle of oil and a pillow. He placed the latter by her head. “You’ll want to use that, sweetheart. You’re going to need to bite down. Or scream. Maybe both.”

Amy lifted her head, a shaking hand dragging the pillow beneath her cheek. The cool, softened linen made her realize how hot her skin was. If the plug or his fingers were any indication, this wasn’t going to feel as it did when he filled her womb.

“Please, my lord.” She begged without knowing what she was begging for. But she needed him to do something.

“Shh,” he whispered, looming over her as he knelt between her legs. Gentle fingers teased her thighs, then slicked over her ass again, delivering more of the oil. She heard the rustle of his robe before it hit the floor next to her. Then the shirt. And his cock prodded against her bruised cunt. She arched on instinct, the momentary touch enough to make her realize just how raw she felt within. Then his tip moved up, finding her other entrance. “Relax, Mia. Breathe out for me. Show me how much you want me.”

She focused on the dancing flames ahead of her, letting out a slow breath. The air caught in her throat with the first invasive, alien push. She couldn’t tell pain from pleasure, only recognizing an intense pressure. She wanted to flee. And she wanted to push back into it. Her nails dug into the pillow, her teeth clamping down as he wrenched a guttural cry from her. The ache between her legs grew. Burned. Ached. And then ... No, I can’t feel that. I shouldn’t.

“Nicholas, I ... I...” She cried out as the twisted pleasure took root within her.

“Yes. Like that.” His lips ghosted along the back of her neck. “Breathe, Mia.” His hips crashed into hers, impaling her, trapping her between his weight and the rough-spun rug. A long, torturous withdrawal gave her time to gasp before he speared into her again. “Like that, angel. Take it....”

The pace picked up, as if he meant to ruin her, break her, send her spiraling into the flames. She couldn’t escape—didn’t want to—until his fingers found her clit again, igniting a new fire. She screamed, turning her face to the pillow to bury the sound. Her hands flailed against the rug, scrabbling and yanking at the pile. It hurt. Really hurt. She wanted more.

Amy moaned with each thrust, trying to breathe through the ravaging bliss, but with his fingers still torturing her clit, the flames blurred behind her tears. She finally drew in air only for another release to claim her, wrenching her body back into her husband. Clenching around him set off another wave, and Nicholas’ hand covered her mouth in time to catch a shriek.

“That’s it. Take it, Mia. Sweet little girl ... Angel...” Nicholas’s cock jerked inside of her, pulsing hot seed while he pinned her down, his hand still over her mouth. Amy sobbed into the pillow but didn’t fight his hold or the muffling grip imprisoning her. She grabbed his wrist instead, keeping it in place by instinct, half afraid of what would escape her if he let go.

The steel arm locked around her waist kept her with him as he rolled off, so he settled behind her, his softening length still buried in her aching, trembling body, leaving her to stare into the banking flames. He didn’t pull his hand away from her mouth either. His sandpaper-and-silk lips touched her neck, her ear, her shoulder. Mia’s awareness focused gradually. The pain between her legs, the over-sensitized throb in her sex, her bruised nipples, the slick between her legs, the seed and oil dripping over skin that still felt too raw for the very air around her.

“It’s all right,” he whispered against her skin, as sweet as any lover in one of her cousin’s romances. As if he hadn’t just wrung every ounce of composure and sanity from her. “You’re safe, mia bella. Just stay still, let yourself relax. Watch the flames. I’ll take care of you. Remember?”

She nodded.

“And I said I’d make you cry.” His thumb stroked her wet cheek, his hand still over her mouth. “Nod when you’re ready for me to let go.”

She stayed perfectly still. It didn’t make sense. She trembled in his arms, her blurred vision dimming with the ember she tracked arcing from the flames down to the far left of the hearth. She rested her head back against his chest. Finally, his hand pulled away from her mouth, but she watched the ember’s last wink of light before she tried to speak. “Th—thank you,” she whispered.

“When you feel ready, I’ll see about having a bath sent up.”

“N—no. I c—can’t—”

“Hush, sweetheart.” Nicholas’ lips ghosted along the curve of her ear, and he stroked her cheek. “I’ll bathe you, don’t worry. Nobody else touches you tonight. Nobody sees you.”

She slowly nodded and took a few deep breaths that drew unfortunate awareness to the ache encompassing her torso and thighs. “I think ... I’d love a bath.” The words were safe. Safer than the other thoughts swirling through her head that she must never say out loud.

“Then you shall have one.” His lips touched hers. Then he was gone, drawing back from her, and leaving the world colder. Momentarily. Nicholas swept her into his arms as carefully as if she’d broken her leg. Well, I guess I did break something... The bare jostling movements informed her she must’ve. Her backside and cunt both hurt, and her legs felt as if she’d run the entire distance from London. He deposited her in the bed, which had thankfully been introduced to a warmer at some point, then drew her shift down and the coverlet up. “Stay still.”

Amy drowsed, still half-lost to her dangerous thoughts, while Nicholas righted his attire and spoke with someone at the door. When had he called them? Were they listening the whole time? Was that his valet? Some part of her promised to be mortified later, and went to sleep.

****

The jarring shift of someone touching the mattress startled her, only for her husband’s face to materialize. Nicholas’s bright blue eyes shone before he drew her up into that increasingly familiar hold. He set her on the floor beside a sit-bath emanating the scent of lavender and kept one arm around her. “Move slowly, angel. I’ve added some salts to help your muscles.”

She obeyed like a child who’d been woken suddenly. Somehow, the shift came off, and she was in the tub, sighing at the beautiful heat. Leaning forward, she lifted her cupped hands to her face and did not move. She expected shame, but she felt none. No fear. Only something crushing, warm, and unnamable that burbled out in exhausted sobs.

Nicholas’s linen-wrapped hand rubbed along her back, and careful fingers threaded through her hair, sweeping errant locks back from the water. “I did advise you to choose Markham.”