Claiming His Wife (Domestic Discipline 4)

"Did you want my cock in your ass again, before our wedding?" he asked, almost taunting. "Is that why you went out tonight? Did you want to get caught doing something naughty?"

No... That couldn't possibly be why she'd done it. She just liked the adventure. The thrill of doing something that she wasn't supposed to. Cynthia shook her head, as if denying both him and the thoughts inside of her head. While she liked being spanked, this was not how she'd imagined spending the night before her wedding! It wasn't! She'd thought that she and Grace would be able to make it back to the house with no one the wiser, that she'd be spending the night in triumph, not with a scorching hot backside waiting to be violated by her soon-to-be husband.

"I think you did, sweetheart."

"No." Cynthia shook her head again, shaking as his fingers twisted and receded, just as something stroked over her clit as if to emphasize how swollen and aroused the little bud was.

The earl chuckled, a dark, cruel sound that had her shuddering in anticipation. The fingers stroking her clit pinched at the little bud and she cried out, panting as pleasure surged and she nearly came.

"It doesn't really matter, since it's going to happen anyway... but one day, you're going to admit how much you like having my cock in your ass."

She moaned in denial again as his fingers retreated and something much larger and thicker pressed against the rosebud. It had been stretched enough by the ginger and his fingers to allow a fairly easy entry at first. The burn wasn't nearly as bad as when he'd put that awful spicy plug into her, even though her tight hole was being forced open much wider.

The Earl's hands wrapped around her hips, her buttocks were spread wide enough by the position of her legs that he had no need to press them apart with his hands to gain entry. The little pink hole grew paler, turning almost white as it stretched open for his cock. Groaning with pleasure, he stared down at those streaky red and pink mounds that framed the pretty, forbidden hole. He could feel Cynthia's trembling, the spasms of her tight channel as he pressed forward, and the way her hips subtly lifted to welcome him in.

He doubted she even realized that she was doing it, because her mind told her that this act was wrong and shameful, even though her body enjoyed it. There was so little propriety in the brazen minx, he relished the taste of it. Tonight her ass, under protests, tomorrow her cunt, with her encouragement.

It didn't escape his notice how much his Cynthia wanted to lose her virginity. The anticipation, his self-control, only emphasized who was in control of their relationship.

Sinking deeper, he groaned some more, wanting her to hear his pleasure as he invaded her backside. The little tremors of her anus massaged his cock, her tiny whimpers as she squirmed making him even harder. It was the beautiful and erotic sound of a woman submitting her body, taking the discomfort in order to please him, acknowledging his right to both punish and pleasure her.

When his groin came flush against her bottom, he rocked against her, making her squeal as his body rubbed against the tender welts the birch had left behind. The mixture of pleasure a

nd pain left her gasping and clenching. Sliding his hands up from her hips, he yanked on the top of her dress so that he could reach her bare breasts. The fabric of her dress was now bunched around her middle, enhancing the feeling of vulnerability as she was clothed but not covered.

Possessive need swamped him as he began to thrust into her ass, squeezing her breasts tightly. The wet slap of his balls against her pussy made both of them moan. She was saying something softly, so softly he couldn't hear it, and he leaned closer, causing his body to press more tightly against her roasted bottom and the heat seemed to coat his stomach.

"Oh please... oh please... oh please..."

Masculine triumph surged. She was caught, somewhere between begging him to stop and crying out for more, totally ensnared by the sensations coursing through her. He'd pushed her beyond her thinking reactions and into a state where things like embarrassment and shame meant nothing. All that mattered was the pleasure and the pain, and her body was confusing them.

Wesley practically roared his triumph as he began fucking her hard, using her breasts for leverage, and wallowing in her shrieks of pained pleasure as he fucked her ass. Pinching her nipples, he could feel her tight hole contract around him, increasing the friction burn for both of them as he plundered her depths.

When she screamed again, he knew that she was climaxing, her pussy spasming and creaming itself even though it was empty. The grip on his cock tightened nearly to the point of pain as she bucked and clenched. Pinching her nipples hard, he thrust in completely, grinding himself against her rump and awakening the stinging welts that the birch had left behind.

Cynthia was lost in a maelstrom of pain and pleasure, she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began... darkness, scattered with blazing sparks, covered her vision. Heat spurted, filling her, her ass clenching around steel and protesting the thick, hard length that pierced it, even as it spurred her ecstasy to greater heights. It was heaven and hell, warring in her body, and she'd never felt anything so intense.

******

Gently covering his bride up, Wesley stroked her damp hair back from her temples. He couldn't have asked for a better stag night, despite the panic he'd felt earlier when he'd gone looking for Cynthia. Frustrating baggage. There'd been a moment of lesser panic as well, when he'd unsheathed from her ass and she hadn't moved. For a moment he thought he'd been too rough, but when he pulled her up to look at him, the dreamy smile on her lips had quieted all his qualms.

His bride had barely been lucid, she'd been limp in his arms, and unable to walk, but she'd been smiling.

It had been monumentally satisfying to carry her to her room, a soft, submissive bundle of chastised beauty. Of course, it would be even more satisfying after tonight, when he'd be able to carry her to his room. He was sure there would be many occasions for that. With the exception of the night she'd tried to sneak into his bed, he'd decided that the bedroom would be for pleasure, the study for punishment.

Not that he would ignore his darker and more perverted tendencies in the privacy of their bedroom, but he wouldn't punish her for naughtiness there either.

Leaning down, he kissed her soft lips and she murmured in her sleep, that dreamy smile making him feel almost tender, despite how frustratingly out of bounds she'd been earlier.

"Sleep well, darling. Tomorrow you're mine."

Chapter 11

The wedding ceremony was beautiful. The groom was handsome. The bride was stunning. The vows surprisingly sincere, causing many a woman in the audience to frown and many a man to sigh with regret, as another hardened rake had evidently fallen victim to love - and to such a buxom beauty! The men were especially displeased that they hadn't even had a chance to approach such a sweet armful before the Earl of Spencer had snatched her up. Those that had been lucky enough to meet her before, cursed the Earl for both his good fortune and the possessiveness that they'd already had the dubious privilege of experiencing when they’d flirted with her after he’d met her. Several of the young ladies, mostly in their second or third seasons, sighed in envy at the romanticism of it all, hoping that they would be as fortunate to find such handsome, doting husbands.

Throughout all of it, Eleanor was miserable.

Well, perhaps miserable wasn't the right word. Murderous might be more apt.