Page 44 of The Duke and the Wrong Bride

“Your punishment will be even worse,” he growled as he thrust deeply, so deep she could feel him in her stomach.

She could not see, but that only added to the pleasure. She could not think, for her mind was focused on the pleasure that ripped through her with every thrust. She could not speak, for her mouth was filled, and whenever she opened it, she let out a moan that she was sure could be heard in London. Her husband wanted her to disobey him. He wanted her to drive him to anger. He wanted her because she wanted him, and now they both had what they desired.

She did not know what would happen next. If this would be the start of something. If she would purposefully frustrate him, so he might punish her again and again. She did not know if they could go back to the way things were. And, most of all, she did not care.

For now, all Charlotte cared for was being the good wife her husband needed. On her knees, head buried in the bed, Henry mounting her like a predator in the wild. He made love to her until she opened like a flower in spring and then exploded like a keg of gunpowder struck with a match. And for the first time in weeks, she didn’t worry about rumors or her sister or the state of her marriage. For the first time in weeks, possibly ever, Charlotte was as happy and content as she had ever been.

Married life, it seemed, was really starting to suit her.

ChapterFourteen

Henry heard the knock at his door but chose to ignore it. His staff knew better than to disturb him when his door was closed, and they knew better than to disturb him when his door was closed and Charlotte was in the room with him.

“Don’t even… you better not… don’t even think about it.” Charlotte moaned.

Henry’s response was a shake of the head, for his mouth was too busy to worry itself with a direct answer. His tongue, especially, hard at work as it gently licked Charlotte’s folds before diving inside of her and then pulling back in a way he knew would drive her wild. Each time he did, he felt her body stiffen, and was he not purposefully holding her legs apart, he knew from experience that her thighs would snap shut and suffocate him.

Another knock at the door that went unanswered.

He had his wife on her back on his bed, fully clothed because he hadn’t expected to be this deep inside of her so early in the morning. They’d been breaking their fast together, she had all but demanded that they go on a promenade later in the day that her friends were said to be at, and… the inevitable ensued.

“I will not be spoken to like that in my own home,” he had growled at her from across the table.

“So, I’m not allowed to even ask if you might be free?” she had responded knowingly, a coy smirk on her lips. “I had no idea you were so sensitive.”

“Ask, yes,” he had responded, scowling at her and baring his teeth. “If that was what you did. This sounded more like an order to me, as if you have me on a leash like a whipped dog.”

She scoffed. “You’re just being dramatic.”

“I am being no such thing.”

“You will be taking me to the promenade.” She had raised a single, warning eyebrow at him, daring him to push back. “Whether you like it or not.”

“Is that right?”

“It is.” She had then matched his glare with a righteous one of her own, undone by the excitement that he could see building behind her eyes. She knew what she was doing. He knew what she was doing. And they both knew exactly where it was leading.

From there, the predictable ensued. Henry pushed his chair back as he stood up. She fixed her challenging stare on him, refusing to back down. He went to her, demanded that she take it back. She refused, so he took her by the arm and dragged her up to his room.

“I will not be spoken to like that in my own home,” he had roared as he pulled her behind him.

“And what are you going to do about it?”

To this, he simply smirked.

He threw his wife on the bed. She tried to push herself up, but he mounted her, forcing her onto her back. She pushed him, he held down her hands and, again, ordered her to apologize. When she refused that most simple of requests, he let her know that she needed to be taught a lesson… one that he seemed to be teaching her a lot lately.

Holding her down, he spread her legs apart and dove his head between her thighs. She writhed as if trying to push him off, but he was bigger, stronger, more powerful, and there was little that she could do. Soon, his mouth was on her folds. Soon, his tongue was between them. And soon, she was no longer fighting him, her body rebelling for a different reason entirely.

It had been a week now since Henry had found Charlotte dressed again as a man. A week now since they had first had sex. A full week, seven days it was, since their marriage took a most unexpected turn. Not that Henry was complaining.

He was through trying to control himself. For weeks until that point, he’d been at pains to try and form an amicable relationship with his wife, one that didn’t make him want to ravage her every second of every day. At the time, it had felt like the right thing to do, for this marriage was only ever meant to be a white marriage. But hindsight has a funny way of making the clever look foolish.

Now, it was all Henry could do to keep his hands off Charlotte. And the few times he was able to find some semblance of control, she purposefully baited him, knowing just what to say and how to say it so that he had no choice but to take her any way that he felt like. Right now being the perfect example.

His tongue worked her, moving to the rhythm of her breathing, the shaking of her body, the trembling of her thighs. He felt her building the faster and harder he licked. He sensed her coming closer and closer to what she wanted, the very reason that she had spoken to him that way earlier.

“Yes…” she moaned, her hands delving in his hair. “Yes… right… there…” she ordered him. “Don’t… don’t stop…” She spasmed suddenly, and he licked deeper and harder.

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