“No,” she said. “I don’t want you.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. I’ve heard it’s unusual for a wife to enjoy sex. Usually, I understand, a wife forces herself to bear it. Husbands are animals, the saying goes, thus wives are relieved if they take their dark lust elsewhere. But I am a faithful husband, Byrony, despite what you choose to believe. Now, take off your clothes.”
She searched his face for a brief moment. There was something else in his eyes now. It was desire. She ran to the door. The door slammed hard just as she opened it. He was behind her, his hand flat on the door, above her head. She heard his breathing, felt the heat from him.
She wanted to beg him not to humiliate her like this. But no, she wouldn’t be a weak, whipped puppy. Very slowly she turned to face him. She forced a cold smile. “Very well,” she said. “Shall I lie naked on the bed for you or shall I put on a negligee and pose with my knee provocatively bent, like Celeste?”
She’d surprised him; she could see it in his eyes. He was utterly taken aback. Damn him, he’d wanted her to plead, to cry. Well, she wouldn’t, ever again.
“Yes,” he said finally. “I want you naked, on your back. I will part your legs when I wish to.”
I haven’t the experience to fence with him, she thought. But she wouldn’t give up, not now. She shrugged with elaborate indifference. “All right. Odd, isn’t it, Brent? I feel particularly fertile now. Do you think I’ll become pregnant?”
His eyes narrowed, but it was the only sign that she’d shaken him again. He laughed. “My dear,” he said, stroking her hair, “you need to be taught so many things. No, don’t try to pull away from me. Just listen. I suppose you do know that it is my seed that creates a child. But it isn’t necessary that I spill my seed inside you. It is more pleasurable for me of course, but I shall survive. I’m an impatient man, sweetheart. Come now and do as I bid you.”
He wanted to laugh at her expression, but he didn’t. “You’re an intelligent girl, Byrony, and perhaps, just perhaps, you can best me in the future. The distant future.”
“I hate you.”
“No, no you don’t. You’re just being a poor loser.” His fingers were on the buttons on the back of her gown.
Please, she wanted to say, please don’t do this to me. But she remained mute. She felt the buttons part swiftly, and the thought that he’d had so much practice undressing women made her forget her indifference.
“No.” She jerked away from him. “No, I won’t let you do this, Brent.”
He paused a moment, stroking his long fingers over his jaw. Then he turned from her and locked the bedroom door. He could hear her frantic breathing. “I will master you, my dear,” he said very calmly, turning back to face her. “I will master you in all things. And no, Byrony, I won’t rape you, although I venture to believe that such violence on my part would please you in some twisted way, reaffirm that I’m a bastard like your father and that miserable brother of yours.”
“You are. All of you men are. No, stay away from me, Brent.”
But he didn’t. He held her very firmly and stripped off her clothes. She was wearing only her chemise and stockings when she went limp against him, worn out from her struggles.
“I’ll scream,” she said.
“If you do, I’ll gag you.” Once he had her on the bed he stripped off the rest of her clothes. “Now,” he said, stepping back, “please don’t move, Byrony. Go ahead and cover yourself if it makes you feel better.”
Byrony pulled the blanket over her and stared up at the ceiling. She heard him undressing, but she didn’t look at him.
Brent eased down beside her. She ignored him. So that was the game she was going to play now. She didn’t realize that a woman who’d known pleasure would have a difficult time being lifeless and without feeling. He slipped his hand beneath the blanket and found her breast. She tried to pull away from him. He tossed off the blanket and covered her, holding her still beneath him. Balancing himself on his elbows, he studied her face.
“I am your husband,” he said, “the man you willingly consented to marry. I am the man who took your virginity and taught you pleasure. Feel me, Byrony.” He was hard against her closed legs.
“No,” she said, turning her face away. “No, I won’t.”
“You’re such a child,” he said, and began to kiss her. “Be a woman for me, Byrony.”
She tried to lock out any feeling; she tried to concentrate on his lies, on his mistress. She felt him moving down her body, felt his mouth close over her nipple. She lurched up, unable to help herself. He was nibbling and licking at her, caressing the underside of her breast, his hands kneading her waist, her belly.
“No,” she whispered, to herself, not to him, but his hands, his magic fingers and clever tongue were roving over her. She felt the growing intensity, felt herself becoming warm and open. “No.”
She felt him open her legs, felt his warm breath against her belly. “You are so white and soft,” he said, and she knew he was looking at her, studying her, and it seduced her, she couldn’t help it. “And that soft curling hair, such pleasure for a man.” But he didn’t touch her there, only lightly caressed her with his fingers. He kissed the insides of her thighs, speaking to her between his kisses, telling her how lovely she was, how delightfully responsive. But he didn’t kiss her where her need had become so overwhelming, so shattering, that she began sobbing deep in her throat.
Brent had planned, in the beginning perhaps, to punish her, to bring her to the point of her release, then leave her. But he couldn’t. God, he wanted her, and he wanted her pleasure.
He waited until she was heaving upward against him. Then he closed his mouth over her. Dear God, the intense pleasure at the sweet taste of her, her openness, the incredible softness of her. He held her hips, feeling the spasms of pleasure course through her. He heard her moaning. He eased the pressure, then quickly reared over her and came into her. She cried out, shuddering, her thighs closing about his flanks.
You mustn’t, he told himself, even as his thoughts became blurred, but he didn’t want to stop himself. He didn’t think he could withdraw from her. He gritted his teeth, and with a cry of fury at himself, pulled out her, his seed flowing onto her belly.
Byrony was still shuddering from the waves of pleasure, the small shocks of intense feeling.