Dealing With Discipline (Domestic Discipline 2)

She screamed, unable to process the incredible pleasure as her orgasm overflowed her, it had grown by leaps and bounds until her skin felt too small and too tight to contain it. Her nails ripped down Hugh’s chest, an automatic reaction as her body struggled to reassert control over itself, to stop the overwhelming pleasure as it began to verge on the border of pain rather than ecstasy. The sharp jabs of nails had Hugh’s body arched backwards, his hips thrusting forward, eliciting another scream of passion from Irene.

Grasping her wrists again he held them down beside her head, still thrusting roughly into the swollen and dripping folds of her cunt, full of the power and pleasure of sending Irene to such heights that there were tears leaking from her unseeing eyes. She screamed again, her body struggling against his, as the intensity of her climax practically choked her. It was too much… it was heaven, it was hell, and she couldn’t break free. The hold he had on her wrists, the useless struggle, only made her body react even more passionately, she was excited by the restraint and it sent her spinning.

Her world narrowed to the rubbing friction of his cock, the swollen pulse of her clitoris as his body slammed against it, the bursting rapture that bubbled and raced along her nerves. When he finally filled her to the brim and began to jerk and throb inside of her, Irene was sobbing from the incredible climax. Tears coursed freely down her cheeks as Hugh finally released her wrists and clasped her closely, her face buried in his chest as he filled her with his seed.

It had been so far beyond anything that she’d experienced before that she didn’t even know how to process the bliss, she couldn’t do anything but sob, to the point where Hugh began to worry.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured cradling her face in his hands, searching her face for some clue as to why she was reacting the way she was. He didn’t think he had been that rough, but he knew that he had lost control in a way that he wasn’t used to. “Did I hurt you? Are you alright?”

Irene hiccupped, trying to stifl

e the welling sobs, choke them back. She hated the look of concern on Hugh’s face. Her body was still tingling from the abject ecstasy, Hugh hadn’t done anything wrong at all, she just didn’t know how to handle everything that he had done right. “I’m fine,” she said, hiccupping again as she let out another little sob. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m more than fine… that was… that was indescribable.”

“Yes it was,” he said with a little laugh, still looking down at her in concern but seeming slightly reassured. He kissed her cheeks, kissing away the tears, and Irene laughed through them.

She loved the way he felt on top of her, so powerful, so concerned… her gentle giant, capable of reducing her to quivering moans and sobs, and yet so caring of her wellbeing. Covering his hands with her own, she turned her head to kiss his palm, the sobs and tears slowly gentling as he cuddled her and murmured words of praise for how beautiful, how wonderful she was. The words, his touch, it was soothing, healing balm to the little cracks and fissures she’d lived with her entire life.

******

That evening before dinner Irene was reading a letter that she’d received from her father while Hugh took care of some of the estate business that needed tending to. Her father described the balls in London that he and her mother attended before heading back to their home in the country. Thanks to Irene’s marriage they now had plenty of money to cover the debts that they had incurred and he described her mother’s pleasure over the new jewelry that he had purchased for her. Irene knew that her father wanted her to be aware of the way her marriage had made their lives better and she was glad for it, especially because Hugh was a wonderful husband. Her body was sore in the most delightful way from their exertions earlier that day.

In fact, everything was wonderful with her world until she came to the last paragraph of the letter.

Before we left London I met with Lord Brooke at the club and he sent you his greetings and his hope to see you upon your return. He had been rather concerned over the fact that your marriage was arranged, I think, but informed me that he had spoken with your husband at the wedding and was greatly reassured by their conversation.

Groaning, Irene set the letter down, feeling a sudden headache beginning in the back of her head. Too often she forgot about Alex of late. It made her feel dreadfully guilty whenever she realized that she’d put him from her mind yet again, but lately she’d been feeling just as guilty whenever she was reminded of him. Was it possible to love two men at once? Because she knew her feelings for Hugh had grown leaps and bounds out here in the country where they were able to spend time together without the shyness that her mother’s hovering usually caused. The disturbing excitement had been tempered with warmth, a glow whenever he looked at her, and the increasing sense that she would do whatever it took to make him happy.

In short, very similar feelings to those she’d always had for Alex, but enhanced by her body’s response to Hugh.

Over dinner she distracted herself from her growing anxiety over her conflicting emotions when it came to the man she’d always loved and the man she was increasingly fearful that she was coming to love, by arguing with Hugh about whether or not she should be allowed to ride Rex. The more she watched him on the magnificent stallion the more she wanted to prove that she was enough of a horsewoman to handle him. Hugh’s stubborn insistence that she not even be allowed to try felt like an insult, although she knew he didn’t mean it that way.

“You could ride alongside me,” she coaxed prettily, “and ensure that nothing goes wrong.”

Sighing, Hugh took a fortifying sip of wine. Irene’s soft voice and pleading eyes were extremely hard to say no to. “I don’t have a horse his equal in my stable,” he said. “If Rex bolted for some reason, I wouldn’t be able to catch you.”

“I wouldn’t let him bolt.”

“You may not have a choice. He’s a much larger horse than you’re used to.”

She pouted, slightly hurt by his insistence. At the same time, the argument was making her feel more inclined towards Alex. After all, he’d always protected her but he’d never tried to control her the way Hugh currently was. Her husband’s careful nurturing of her confidence had made her feel rebellious against her mother’s strictures about her behavior and permitted conversation, now those feelings of rebellion were spreading to include her husband’s limitations on her.

“I’m a good enough horsewoman to handle him,” she insisted.

Hugh shook his head, setting down his foot well and truly for the first time in their marriage. “No, Irene. I don’t want to hear any more about it. He’s too big and too unruly for me to trust him with you.”

Although Irene bowed her head in seeming submission, Hugh felt rather unnerved. Before her emerald eyes had been hidden from him, they’d looked remarkably like the rebellious sapphire eyes of his unruly sister – not at all the kind of expression he’d ever wanted to see on his wife’s face.

Chapter 11

Edwin grinned as he read over the missive from Hugh, leaning back in his favorite chair in his study. The Season was mostly over, but Hugh and his bride would be returning to London for the remainder of it, having enjoyed a most pleasurable honeymoon. Of course Hugh didn’t go into detail in the letter but it was obvious to Edwin how very pleased Hugh was with his new wife. Edwin was happy for him, he had been slightly worried considering that Hugh didn’t know Irene very well when they’d married yet had already been rather enamored of her. She was so quiet and reserved that Edwin had wondered whether or not Hugh really knew her.

At the time he’d preferred Eleanor’s outspokenness, although of course his wife alternated between being very vocal and being very secretive. But he found he usually didn’t mind, it kept him on his toes. Lately he wished she would just tell him what she wanted from him.

As if the thought had summoned her, his wife knocked and then swept into the study without waiting for him to answer. She was looking beautiful, as always, in a cream and pink morning gown, her hair piled in a fetching coiffure. Sometimes he thought he could sit and admire Eleanor’s beauty for hours – if he could keep his baser desires from rising and causing his contemplation to turn to a more physical form of appreciation.

“I want to have another dinner,” she said rather abruptly, without pausing for greeting. They hadn’t hosted an event since the dinner she’d planned in which she’d served all the foods that Edwin hated, after which she’d been soundly punished. Since then he hadn’t suggested that they host another and she hadn’t mentioned it. The defiant tilt to her chin said that she expected him to deny her request.

“Hugh and Irene will be home in a week,” he replied rather casually, tossing her brother’s letter on the desk. “We could have a dinner to celebrate their return.”