But he was saying yes, she understood, and he finished unbuttoning his underwear just as her drawers slid to the floor. “I won’t keep you waiting long,” she whispered, grateful for his benevolence.
“Damn right you won’t.”
And the newlyweds who in the past had always eschewed adolescent frenzy, surrendered once again to their raging passions. Lifting her off her feet with ease, he wrapped her legs around his waist while his heart pounded in his chest, his erection stretched higher, and consummation took on a life of its own. Covetous and lustful, she clung to him and dizzy with uncontrollable need, began to seriously believe in sorcery. All else disappeared but her craving to feel him inside her.
Way, way inside her.
Hard and deep and forceful.
Coincidentally, Oz was warning himself not to run amuck and use her too roughly. With more than usual caution, he guided his erection to her sex, and nudging her sleek vulva with the head of his cock, paused, inhaled, and prayed for restraint. Having regained a modicum of sanity, he was able to smile when she wiggled her hips and impatiently hissed, “What are you waiting for?”
“The return of logic, or in this case, your orders,” he said with a grin, and bending slightly, he pressed her against the door for better traction, straightened his legs in a powerful upward thrust, drove deeply into her hot, slick cunt, and felt her gratified sigh warm his cheek. He didn’t move for a breath-held second after her silken flesh closed around him, occupied with the lunatic concept of having come home. But too disciplined to give in to delusion for long, he slid his hands under her bottom to raise her for the next sumptuous plunging descent.
“No, no, don’t!” Isolde cried, a creature of impulse rather than discipline, not inclined to relinquish the pleasure washing over her in heated waves.
Ignoring her exclamation as well as her fingers digging into his shoulders, Oz lifted her bottom until she shuddered on the crest of his erection, panting and pleading for more. When he released her, she immediately slid down his cock with such force, he caught his breath at the strumming rapture.
“If you could just stay right
He brushed her lips with a smiling kiss. “Greedy puss.”
“Yes, yes… yes, yes, yes.”
But he moved despite her protests because he couldn’t last a week or even five minutes at this point, which was a startling admission for a man who had always been able to control his ejaculation.
It turned out to be a very close race to the finish, the feat accomplished only by sheer will and incredible control on Oz’s part. With intense concentration he curtailed his orgasm, exerting himself to pleasure his wife, his powerful legs propelling him upward again and again until Isolde’s orgasm crested and her screams brought him to a standstill deep inside her. Only waiting until her cries began to fade, he jerked her off his cock, dropped her on her feet, ripped his shirt tails from his trouser waistband, and just barely managed to save the carpet from semen stains.
Moments later, still breathing hard, his head braced against the door above her shoulder, he inhaled the perfume from her hair, her warmth, felt the softness of her body against his, and offered up a prayer of thanks to whatever gods had initially guided him to room thirteen at Blackwood’s.
“That-was… fantastic-wasn’t it?” Isolde breathed, so filled with bliss she felt lit from within.
“Yes,” he whispered without moving.
“Perfection.”
“Yes.” Lifting his head, he inhaled deeply, took a step back, shrugged out of his jacket, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Yes to everything, darling.”
Her nostrils flared at his facile reply. “Don’t patronize me.”
He paused in his unbuttoning. “Sorry. You’d prefer I disagree?”
“No, no.” She waved her hand in a little absolving gesture. “I didn’t mean to be fretful. I’m just feeling more in thrall to pleasure than I’d like-to you… him-sex with you.” She made a wry face. “It’s not your fault, though, it’s mine.”
“As you know,” he replied with a lift of his brows, “you’re not alone in your craving.” Not that he didn’t have every expectation those cravings would abate. They always did. “Let me wash up,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head with a jerk, bundling it up and dropping it, “and we’ll deal with our mutual randiness.”
“I’m feeling odd in other ways, too.”
Women always wanted to talk about their feelings. He’d learned to politely agree. “It’s probably due to the oddity of our marriage,” he said over his shoulder. “You have to admit we didn’t do a lot of planning.” Because he was drunker than usual.
“In contrast to my previous detailed wedding planning,” she wryly noted.
“There, you see? That’s why you’re unsettled. You’re not accustomed to rash behavior.”
On the other hand, rash behavior had it’s advantages, she decided, contemplating her husband’s powerful physique, his naked torso tautly muscled, the width of his shoulders impressive like his lovely, resilient cock. That he was still booted was perversely arousing as well. Or maybe everything about him provoked her lust, magnificent male animal that he was. If this was obsession, there was pleasure in embracing it.
Quickly washing up at a small sink in the corner, Oz stripped off his boots and remaining clothes. Quickly crossing the room, he stopped before Isolde still motionless against the door, the torpid warmth of fulfillment pulsing through her body. “If you can hear me,” he teased, dipping his head to meet her lethargic gaze, “might I interest you in some less frantic conjugal sex?”
A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “So you don’t mind being my husband?”
“Hell no. I’m delighted to be here. If you’ll allow me, I’ll show you how delighted I am.”
How many times and to how many women had he so casually offered his services? And how could it possibly matter in this business arrangement of theirs? But it must have because she heard herself say, “Would you still be delighted if I said I wanted to tie you up?”
One dark brow rose. “Is this a test?”
“Perhaps-I don’t know. May I?” If not a test, it may have been a means of stabilizing the inordinate power he commanded over her senses and passions, over what had always been an unfettered will. Compensation, too, at some inchoate level, for the serried ranks of his lovers. “Think of it as a minor conjugal obligation.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, not sure he liked the word
Conscious of his small hesitation, Isolde felt nominally redeemed, more herself. Perhaps she wasn’t slavishly obsessed, nor just another of the bevy of ladies in his life, but the woman of independence she’d always been. “Where should I tie you up?” she murmured, half musing.
“It depends what you want.”
“Meaning?”
“Do you want sex standing, sitting, or lying down?”
“This is all familiar to you?”
“Come, darling, you know what I am. Everything’s familiar to me.” He knew better than to goad her, but he was being goaded, too-and not entirely sure he liked it. Raised in princely wealth, he was a golden child, the world at his beck and call. Submission wasn’t and never would be his strong suit. But in the interests of civility along with the prospect of his future plans for the night, he chose to comply.
Moments later, he lay on the bed, watching his wife unwind the tasseled tiebacks from the bed drapery, and fleetingly debated his choice. The green silk cord would look much better against Isolde’s pink skin, while the thought of her in bondage to him was profoundly erotic. He briefly took issue with his baffling need to dominate her; sex had always been about amorous sport, not supremacy. On the other hand, his darling wife was unusually independent. Perhaps therein lay the reason for his novel impulse.
“You have to listen to me.”
He glanced up to find his wife kneeling beside him, her mouth sweetly pursed.
He smiled. “I was thinking about changing roles.”
“You can’t.”
It took him a second to politely respond. He didn’t mind her giving orders-within limits. “Maybe later,” he pleasantly said, this man who’d been indulged from birth.
“We’ll talk about it,” Isolde returned, relishing her position, no longer mindlessly surrendering to passion.
