She was at a loss as to what to say.
“You want me to stop?”
She shook her head.
“Then brace yourself. I’m going to fuck you until my cock is fit to burst. When I says turn, you’ll turn over and I can end it on your arse. It’s as good a place as any.”
She had no clue as to what he meant, but she nodded.
He pumped his thing, his cock, in and out of her with a rhythmic pulse. It probably was something he might do faster, because he seemed to be holding back, forcing himself to achieve his mission with leisurely thrusts. With each entrance, she gave, and with each exit, for he liked to withdraw to the tip, he savoured the tightness of her narrow passage. She bit back a cry, not of pain, because the worst of that was over, but delight. Something was tickling her mound—his cock or his soft hairs? She could not tell.
The pace switched and changed. The candle flickered. The light was fading, his face was cast into deeper shadows. She wanted to remember this strange night forever. It was worthy of a painting in her mind, one that would wipe out the reason she was in the cottage, the frightening storm, the pity of the servants who knew she was neglected by her husband. He was likely to be impotent, a word that now made perfect sense. The virulent man between her thighs was far from incapable. He was the embodiment of masculinity. Leaving his side would bring her crashing back to the reality of her marriage. She preferred not to sully the moment by contemplating that misery.
She hitched her bottom up higher and met his thrusts with a renewed keenness.
With a sudden force, he flipped her over, grasped her tender arse cheeks and prised them apart. He meant to plunder there? Surely not. It was not possible!
“Sir,” she shrieked.
“Hold steady, lass. Don’t fret.” He nudged the furrow with the slippery head of his cock and grunted. Liquid heat impacted her tight nook, and she was sure some of it had slipped inside. Overwhelmed by the sensation, she quaked beneath him. “That’s it,” he said. “A little tease for your arse. You’ll like it better up there once you’ve weakened to it.”
She groaned, feeling the warmth trickled across her bottom and back. Eventually, the spurts finished. But he had not. He plunged his thumb inside her deflowered channel and hooked his fingers underneath her mound. Slowly he rubbed the flat of his rough fingers there, right at the apex of her sex. She squirmed. He slapped her bottom with his other hand.
“You’ll like this, trust me.” He captured one of her roving hands and pinned it behind her back. The other she used to clutch the pillow. “Women,” he tut-tutted. “Never know what’s best for them.” He clucked his tongue. “I’ll have it out of you.”
What was he referring to? She quickly did not care to think about his words. His hand was committing some delightful atrocity on her body’s weakest spot and she gave into it. She thrashed and writhed, crying out, as the pain and pleasure spread from mound to belly, then her swollen breasts and finally her tightening throat. She could not breathe. He slapped her arse hard again.
She spluttered, finding air at last to breathe. He let go of her wrist, withdrew his thumb, and lifted his body away from hers. She dozed, barely aware of the cloth on her back and bottom, wiping away his sticky residue. He covered her up. The last thing she remembered was the puff of his breath blowing out the candle.
* * *
In the morning light, she turn
ed over and spotted him in the rocking chair. He was stretched out, his head resting on the back, his heels on the hearth. She thought he was asleep, but as the straw mattress rustled with her movements, he lifted his head.
“Finally, you’re awake. I’ve fed the cows and pigs since you’ve napped. We’ll go look for that horse of yours after breakfast. Then you’ll tell me why you’re giving away your virginity to a man you don’t know.”
She swallowed. “What is your name?”
“Matthew. That’s all you need know.”
“Dara.”
“That’s enough for me too. I’ve washed your clothes.” He pointed to the line he had strung across one corner of the room. “They’re too wet to wear. So, you’ll have to put on one of my shirts.”
“Thank you. You’re very kind.”
He laughed. “Given that you let me fuck you, then I guess the debt is paid.”
She felt the prickle of tears. She’d not thought she owed him in that way. She had offered herself willingly because something had stirred so strongly inside her she could not resist him.
“What?” He sat straighter.
“I don’t want to be in your debt if it means you think that you can take me without thought.”
“Without thought? I’ve thought much about what we did yesterday. I was filled with the lust like no other. You have a gift for it, lass. But. I believe you did it knowing you were breaking a sacred vow.” He stood and pulled upon the waistband of his breeches. The belt was somewhere on the floor.
She grabbed the counterpane and wrapped it around her tighter. “What vow?”