The Bride of Larkspear: A Fitzhugh Trilogy Erotic Novella (Fitzhugh Trilogy #3.5)

“Flatter yourself all you want. I would prefer a rendezvous with a dentist—without the laughing gas.”


I kiss her earlobe. “Disparage my lovemaking day and night if you’d like, darling. You may think it will thwart me, but the only thing I hear is a challenge for me to give you even greater pleasures. And it is a challenge I gladly accept.”

Her hands grip the slat to which they are tied. “And I will, of course, lie quiescent, since I am a dutiful wife. The law deems my body to belong to you, but my mind is my own, and I shall only think those thoughts that best please me.”

In other words, she will think of him.

I ignore the painful pinching in my heart. New battle lines have been drawn. Nothing left to do but for our forces to clash, and see whether her defense holds or my offense prevails.

I part her lips and lick her teeth. I bite her where her neck meets her shoulder. I nibble the inside of her elbow.

Patiently, devotedly, ignoring the insistent demands of my own body, I make my way down her torso, dipping my tongue into her navel before I head back north, to those gorgeously firm breasts that I had intentionally bypassed earlier.

So pliant, yet so resilient, those wonderful breasts. I squeeze them, push them together, and blow a breath across her nipples. Already hardened, they pucker even more. I blow again, watching them—and watching her exquisite face.

Her lips are parted, her breathing uneven.

My cock, thicker and harder than it has ever been, presses into her lower abdomen. And now I lift a thumb and rub her nipple. She hisses, the sound a balm to my soul. I drop kisses all around that rosy areola, never quite touching it except accidentally—or perhaps not so accidentally—with the corner of my mouth and the beginning of my stubble.

The next moment I pull her nipple deep into my mouth. She gasps. I let it go and watch it glisten moistly in the lamplight. I blow upon it again. She shivers. I lick it with the tip of my tongue. She whimpers.

From somewhere deep in the back of my mind comes the thought that I would like to make love to her only for the sake of making love to her, without pretenses or ulterior motives.

Someday, if I’m so lucky.

“Such pretty nipples. I must draw them. I must draw you. Then you will see yourself as I see you: naked, bound, and infinitely fuckable.”

“I don’t doubt my desirability. But you should doubt yours.”

Her retort would have injured me far more severely were it not for the moans I drew from her even as she spoke.

I continue to make love to her breasts, filling my ears with the whimpers of her rising desire. And then, when I can stand it no more, I take my cock in hand, part her legs, and position myself at the juncture of her thighs.

“My, but you are soaked through,” I whisper, allowing myself a moment of satisfaction.

She turns her face to the side. “From pretending you are someone else, of course.”

Intellectually I know it is not true. But intellect is no match for the twisted fears of the gut. I have to restrain myself from ramming into her.

“Of course, you must do as you see fit, darling. I, on the other hand…” I push the head of my cock into her and lose my ability to speak for a moment. So hot. So tight. I breathe hard, holding on to my control.

“I, on the other hand, am keenly aware that you are you and no one else. When I kiss you, it is your lips and your tongue I cover with mine. When I touch you, it is your skin. When I fuck you”—I drive deeper into her, and am again stunned with pleasure—“it is your cunt that welcomes me inside.”

I am now embedded in her to the hilt. I withdraw, then slowly enter her again, clenching my teeth together to not growl like a beast. Her jaw is just as tightly set, but a tiny sound escapes.

I freeze. Am I hurting her? How do I tell with her hands bound and her teeth gritted?

Her hips rise an inch to take me further inside—then she freezes, as if realizing what she is doing. But it’s too late. Now I know she wants more of the sensations, more of the pleasures. I am saturated anew with desire.

“I might never be able to stop fucking you,” I tell her, keeping my words carnal and dirty so that I do not blurt out the deeper secrets of my heart. “Every time I look at you I will be hard as a rock. I will fuck you in carriages, in broom cupboards and coat closets. On days when I am particularly horny I will fuck your mouth. And on days when I am in a really perverted mood, I will fuck you here.”

I run my hand between the perfectly rounded cheeks of her bottom, and find that other place. It is drenched with juices from her cunt. I insert the tip of a finger inside.

She cries out and thrashes, leaping instantly from arousal to orgasm. Her cunt grips my cock. I lose all control. Ramming myself balls-deep in her, I shudder, convulse, and inundate her with the essence of myself.