Page 53 of Desire and Discipline
“Enough… I need you. Now.”
She cried out as he thrust inside her, her body quivering as he filled the empty ache.Finally.Moving hard and fast, he focused his entire being on her pleasure, driving her higher and higher. Her muscles clamped around him, liquid heat pouring through her as he moved. With her legs wrapped around him, her heels digging into his flexing buttocks, she could control his movements somewhat.
“More,” she demanded as her pleasure rose higher, cresting. “Harder!”
He groaned, dropping his head down, thrusting harder and faster at her direction. The growing ecstasy swirled and exploded within her, and she cried out as she shattered under the sensual assault. Each stroke of his cock sent her on a new wave of rapture, her muscles squeezing his cock but unable to stop its movements. The friction was an overload of intense sensation, glutting her senses until she screamed his name.
Only then did he slam home within her, groaning as he reached his own completion. Rocking against her, he sent her on another paroxysm of pleasure.
Oliver
The night Diana pulled him into her room changed everything.
For one, it was the last night she spent in her room. That was the beginning of her sleeping inhisroom, as was due his marchioness. However, he had not brought up the subject again yet, deeming it best to ease her into it. It was not as if she was unaware of his intentions.
And he was courting her. As advised. Since it seemed to be working, he was happy to continue down that path.
However, the third night in his room led to an unexpected place—arms above his head, braced against the bedpost, with his feet about shoulder-width apart, while Diana tormented him with a crop.
She had not forgotten about how he’d tried to trap her into marriage with him.
“Ow!” Bloody hell, that particular stinging thwap had hit very far up his thigh, too close to his balls, which tried to self-protectively retract as much as they could. He pressed his forehead to the wooden post he was leaning against, breathing hard as he fought the urge to reach down and protect his tender sack.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Diana said with false sympathy. The leather flap on the end of the crop tapped against his knee before she slid it up the thigh she’d just smacked, past the stinging spot where the blow had landed to rub against the sensitive skin between his sack and his anus.
Oliver groaned again, going up on his toes as his confused dick tried to decide whether it wanted to shrink or expand.
“Did that hurt?”
“You know it did,” he growled back. Then bit his lip because the crop disappeared again… when it returned, it landed on his other thigh in almost exactly the same spot.
“Maybe next time you’ll think twice about trying to manipulate me.”
“Seems to be working out for me so far.”
Dammit. Sometimes, he needed to learn to keep his mouth shut. He was utterly brilliant when it came to keeping secrets for the Crown or others. Not a single syllable he did not want to reveal ever passed his lips. However, put a woman with a crop in front of him, and apparently, every filthy thought, every witticism that passed through his head, came tumbling out.
When it came to a woman in the bedroom, he had no sense of self-preservation.
The crop did not return immediately. For a moment, he worried he’d gone too far and that she was going to retreat again. Instead…
“Turn around.” The crisp order made him relax, then tense again at the ramifications.
Presenting his buttocks and shoulders for punishment was one thing—all his most tender bits were on his front side. The side she now wanted presented to her.
He just had to play the dangerous game.
But he also trusted her.
Dropping his arms, he turned around, a little smile playing on her lips. Wearing nothing but a thin chemise that hid very little of her delectable body, her hair down in waves to her waist, she looked like a seductive goddess at whose altar he was all too ready to worship.
Immediately, his cock decided it did not want to shrink, and the little bit of softness that had crept in disappeared as he hardened all over again. She was playing havoc with his senses.
“Lean back against the post and grab it with your hands,” she instructed, that little smile turning utterly wicked.
Bollocks.
He was in trouble. Not just physically, either. She was so bloody perfect, everything he would have dreamed of if he’d dared dream of finding a second wife. His heart was on the line again, and he was not sure how to handle it.
