Again and Again

her arms around his neck, she ran her hands over his muscled shoulders and waited, aching and fevered.

He was fairly certain what was inside her, but preferred erring on the side of caution. Gore had liked the pearl and diamond bracelet enough to call his attention to it. He should fit if it was the pearls.

But he slipped a finger inside her first, just to be sure. This was his wedding night, after all. He intended to be up all night and for that, he’d want his wife unscathed.

“Pearls,” he whispered, touching the bracelet that was strung with small diamonds separating the pearls. Looking up, he smiled at Caro. “We should manage with those. They’re small.”

“Soon, I hope,” she murmured, trembling at his touch.

“Yes, dear, your servant, dear.” His voice was low, his finger running the length of the bracelet, smoothing it straight along the length of her vagina. “Stop me anytime,” he whispered, beginning to enter her, holding one end of the bracelet at the very entrance to her sleek passage. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He moved forward slowly, the pressure of his penis forcing each pearl into his flesh and hers, the unreeling friction curling with tantalizing rapture through their heated senses one pearl at a time until he was lodged deep within her body.

“I’m moving back now.” The pressure was so acute, he felt she needed warning.

“No, no…” She clutched at him. “Stay.”

He did for a lengthy interval while she panted in little delirious inhalations and then he moved back just a fraction while she shuddered in his arms.

“Oh, God…”

Understanding that particular heated supplication, he moved marginally again and then once again, settling into a rhythm of limited penetration and withdrawal that took all his considerable restraint to maintain.

The first time Caro climaxed, she said, “Thank you,” afterward with such breathless charm he was reminded of a young girl he once knew. And when she said, “More,” brief moments later, he was reminded of a young lady he once knew. Perhaps he was in a particularly generous mood, because he even disregarded her fretful insistence when she clutched at his shoulders the next time and said, “Right now, damn it,” like some spoiled bitch.

She was, after all, his darling little bitch.

After she climaxed numerous times, he finally gauged his hot-blooded wife sufficiently satisfied and withdrew for his own long delayed orgasm.

But as he pulled out of her jeweled interior, her eyes flew open. “What are you doing?”

It was impossible to speak, his orgasm already rushing downward.

She pounded on his chest in outrage.

But he only tightened his grip on her arms and held her down, his surging, shuddering climax impossible to staunch, all sensation centered in the fevered, orgasmic deluge. He poured his long-contained semen in spurting, gushing jets onto her stomach, gasping at each gut-wrenching spasm, heedless to all but consummation and lust. Until lengthy moments later, completely drained, panting, he slowly opened his eyes to meet her furious gaze.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed.

It took him a pulse beat to understand, to bring himself back from orgasmic paralysis. “Nothing,” he muttered, rolling off her, shutting his eyes for a fleeting moment. He and his father had rarely agreed on anything, but on the issue of paternity they had. And after the warm embrace he’d interrupted at Netherton Castle, he was taking no chances on the paternity of his heir.

“Don’t tell me nothing, damn you!” Surging upright, she swung at him, landing a vicious blow.

He winced, but he didn’t retaliate, steeling himself instead for the inevitable confrontation. He rubbed his stinging jaw. “I thought it might be a good idea to wait.”

“For what pray tell?” she spat, pulling out the pearl bracelet and flinging it at him.

He dodged it deftly and it hit the wall with a splat. “You know as well as I do, for what,” he said, looking at the stain on the wallpaper.

“I’d like to hear it from you.”

“All right,” he said, gruffly, turning back to her. “I don’t want any question about paternity. I thought it might be wise to wait for your menses.”

“You don’t trust me.”

He didn’t answer.

“I can see why someone like you wouldn’t trust anyone. You’ve been telling charming lies to women for years,” she said, tersely.

“Don’t get righteous on me,” he brusquely rebuffed. “I know you, and if that man only kissed you once, he must be a fucking eunuch!”

“It would be impossible for Will to simply be a gentleman?”

His glance was derisive.

“Did you ever consider I might not have wanted to kiss him?”

He snorted. “You?”

“Bloody bastard!”

“No, I’m not. And that’s the point.”

“And I have nothing to say about this?”

“Not at the moment” His voice was as adamant as hers.

“And when might I?” she inquired, rudely.

“I’m not arguing about this.”

“No matter what I say, you won’t believe me?”

“Jesus, Caro, consider our history,” he returned crossly. “You don’t trust me and I don’t trust you.”

“I not only don’t trust you, I despise you.”

“Fortunately for me, that never interferes with your fucking,‘’ he said with withering sarcasm.

“It certainly will now. You won’t touch me,” she snapped.

It was a particularly inflammatory phrase under the present circumstances; marriage had been an extraordinary undertaking for Simon. He wasn’t likely to concede his conjugal rights. “I’ll touch you when and where I wish,” he growled.

Scrambling away, she tried to roll from the bed, but he caught her around the waist and swung her around. Dropping her on her back, he said, “Don’t move,” in so unyielding a voice, even in her defiance, she obeyed.

Ignoring her virulent gaze, he wiped her stomach dry and then cleaned himself with a fastidiousness she took note of with rancor, knowing what dictated his caution.

When he was finished, he shoved the sheet aside and leaning back on his hands, contemplated her as though debating the manner of his assault. ‘Tell me about Will,“ he said. ”In case it should matter.“

“I don’t choose to. You’re wrong. You’ll find that out soon enough,” she finished, fretful and sullen.

“How soon will that be?” Soft, dulcet words that belied the flinty harshness of his gaze.

“You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” she snapped, her temper rising. She was never docile long.

His jaw tightened. “I hope I don’t have to wait nine months.”

“For your information, everyone’s not a gross libertine like you.”

“You never had any trouble keeping up.” His brows arched upward in derision. “Or setting the pace on occasion.”

“I must have been crazed.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” he jibed. “Let’s hope you didn’t become crazed too often at Ian’s. Remember, I know what you’re like.” His smile was tight.

Overcome with a moment of discomfort, she wondered if Simon was more right than he knew. Would she have given in to Will at some point? Would she have succumbed to his affectionate advances?

Was her self-righteousness unfounded?

“You surprise me, darling. No biting retort? How many men did you fuck in the last five years?”

“Considerably less than your record with women, I’m sure.”

‘That’s not a reassuring answer.“

“If you were looking for a virgin, you should have thought of that before you forced me into,” she half-lifted her hand, “this bizarre arrangement.”

He didn’t reply for a moment. Nothing remotely rational had entered into the compulsion that had brought him