Bertrice Small - Captivated

He looked down at his throbbing manhood. "An aberration. It'll go away."

But it didn't. It never went away all the time they ate breakfast; her mouth went dry every time she looked at his erection, imagining the breadth and thickness, the mystery of him.

But then, her nipples kept reacting to the heat of his gaze. He couldn't take his eyes off them and they kept tightening and tightening and her body felt creamier and creamier just from the touch of his burning eyes.

And he knew it. He made her sit across from him with her legs splayed while they ate, and all of it, her nakedness, his lust, her feeling of being captive and contained, the leather straps on her body, the feral glitter in his eyes, all of it made her body squirm and her juices flow.

Just what she didn't want. She didn't want to succumb to this domination of her. She wanted none of him, except the one moment of possession that would legitimize the marriage.

How could she do that, when every provocation that he had visited on her had not been enough to make him sink himself into her?

How did one make a man relinquish that power?

Obviously the dictates of his body were not enough. He was not a man who was led around by his baser nature.

By every standard and what little she knew, he should have succumbed to her charms the moment he ripped away that bedspread.

But then, Court was the kind of man to whom women succumbed, and why he had decided that she was to be part of his bargain to obtain Oak Bluffs was beyond her.

And she obviously was not woman enough to entice him.

Except his pulsating body said differently, and he had been in a permanent state of high arousal ever since he'd walked into that bedroom.

And he kept referring to Gerard.

She almost groaned out loud. Gerard would never have forced her to do all the things that Court had. Gerard would have petted and kissed her, and waited on her time for the ultimate moment of possession. He never would have humiliated her like this.

She felt him jerk her arm and haul her to her feet.

"So…" he said viciously, "the fawn dreams of rabbits in spite of the fact she has a stallion at her command. Oh, my dear wife, it will give me the greatest pleasure to wipe that milksop from your memory."

"I don't care…" she spat. "I don't carehe's a gentleman, he would never…"

"And I would? I could? This is the first I've touched you in anger, Drue, and you will feel the full force of it. You are never to let a thought of that mollycoddle into your mind ever again or I will bring him here and let him see you naked and groveling to me. Because, by God, you will prostrate yourself and beg for my penis." He was furious, overset by a pure male rage that was frightening in its intensity. "Evie! Louise! Take her upstairs and get her ready."

Instantly, the two servants surrounded her, each taking an arm and pushing her unwilling body up the stairs.

He watched her naked, writhing buttocks in the erotic straps, and he didn't try to control his convulsive release.

Any minute after, he knew, the gnawing desire would take over yet again, stretching and thickening him to rock-hard readiness at the knowledge that the naked mistress of Wildwood would be waiting for him in her room, restrained and restive, and very aware now of his poking, pulsating penis.

Two days was all it had taken. The little fawn was an apt pupil. She couldn't keep her eyes off his towering erection during breakfast, and she'd been eyeing his sex all morning before they left the bedroom.

It was too bad she'd had to spoil it, butsome lessons were hard learned.

He knelt beside the chair in which she had displayed herself as they ate. The scent of her permeated his senses, rising from the minuscule moist blot from her wet. His erection jacked up a notch, his whole body tensed. It took but a moment to strip, to slide himself across the slick satin, to rub against the stain of her sex, to commingle it with his own.

Not enough, not enough. He wanted it all.

He mounted the steps slowly, savoring the sultriness of the morning and the way the heat rose in his loins. He had never wanted a woman's body more. He couldn't get enough as he imagined her laying there, in her collar and straps, her legs wide open in invitationto him, and only him.

Oh, yes. And when he was certain she wanted only him… then

Evie stood outside the door, guarding it. "Everything ready," she murmured.

Then…

He opened the door.

Drue eyed him balefully from where she lay across the bed. "You monster."

She was on her stomach, her buttocks canted up slightly, with her hands in restraints, but not her legs. It wasn't all that unpleasant, especially since she had a first-rate view of his flat belly and the growth of hair that fanned down beneath his belt to his thrusting penis.

It was inches away from her lips, deliberately, she thought angrily, and she wondered what would happen if she pulled it into her mouth, material and all, and sucked it dry.

She turned her head away abruptly. She could not let herself be seduced by a length of muscle and the refusal of the man to do his husbandly duty.

If only he would, she could be faithful to Gerard for the rest of her life.

She felt something probing her sex.

"What's that? What are you doing?"

"I'm just giving you what you want, you vixen. Something to fill your empty place."

It was perfect. She was all there, and open to him. He sat down beside her wriggling bottom and, propping himself on his elbow, he began to stroke her exposed sex.

She wriggled away from his questing fingers, and he went after her, stroking and dipping, and as she began to push against his fingers, probing and then pushing his three long fingers deep and hard inside her until they met the sweet barrier that proclaimed her innocence and her need.

She shrieked as something pushed into her most private place as if it were made to be there. But it wasn't his penis or his obvious need.

"You are… you are a bastard," she moaned, beating her feet against the mattress.

"And what are you, my naked wife, when your heart is full and yearning for another man? What you have now is all of me you can have until you crush his memory from your heart." He twisted his hand slightly and her body jolted at the sensation.

"Go away," she hissed, writhing against the sensation of the thickness of his fingers centered within her. "You are unspeakable."

"I am a man whose wife craves another man's sex," he said stonily, "and for that, she can only have this " And he pushed his fingers harder into her, and she gasped as he pushed against her virginity. "And this …" A merciless twist of his fingers, and the feeling of him expanding her shocked her silent.

She couldn't move. She felt utterly paralyzed by the sensation of his fingers there. It was unspeakable; incredible; unknowable.

And he didn't move. Didn't speak. Just flexed his fingers every few minutes to let her know that he possessed her there, like that, just to that point of pressing her virginal veil; and that he could command those feelings from her whenever he desired.

He felt her every movement; whether she knew it or not, she was rocking against him gently, almost imperceptibly, seeking deeper penetration, enhanced sensation, in spite of the fact he could push no further.

He didn't know how much longer he could last, holding her like that, embedded in the tight heat of her most feminine place. And the straps of the thrall collar crossing over her buttocks almost undid him.

"Here is the lesson, wife," he whispered. "Only one man's penis can possess you. Which do you want more? A memory? A substitute?" He wriggled his fingers. "Or your master? Ponder that this morning, Drue, and how would it feel to be filled and fulfilled as my wife."