Page 60 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

Chapter 11

Later that same night

Sylvester

Hyacinth’s long, sinuous body rippled beneath Sylvester’s as he pumped his hips.

“Harder,” his wife ordered, her eyes black pools of lust as she stared up at him.

He slammed into her savagely enough to shake the frame of the huge four-poster bed.

And again.

And again.

“Is that the best you can do?” she taunted, the words gasped out between punishing thrusts. Her lips curled into a rare smile, this one almost evil. “Fuck me like you hate me, Sylvester.”

He gave a bark of laughter and instantly ceased his thrusting, sliding a hand around her throat and squeezing—not too terribly hard, but enough to cut off her air. “You will take what I give you and be grateful for it, witch.”

The vixen rolled her eyes at him, her pale, freckled skin darkening the longer she went without a breath.

Even after half a year of marriage a great deal about his wife was still a delectable mystery to Sylvester. But the one thing he knew for sure was that she never gave in first. His choices at that moment were to either kill her or fuck her as she’d demanded.

Sylvester smirked down at her; he would give her what she wanted. This time.

He quickly released her, withdrew from her body, and flipped her over, earning a startled squawk in the process.

“Up,” he ordered, raising her hips off the bed while pushing her shoulders down, holding the back of her neck and pressing her head against the mattress. “Stay,” he ordered, giving her slender neck one last squeeze before dragging his fingers down the vulnerable knobs of her spine.

He rose up high on his knees and stared down the creamy length of her bowed body. Fuck. Was there any sight more beautiful?

If there was, it was the next one.

Sylvester spread her buttocks and caressed down her cleft, sliding a finger into her wet, swollen cunt and pumping in and out of her tight sheath hard enough to force a grunt out of her. She canted her hips, and he smiled at her silent begging, adding a finger and fucking her hard while his other hand slid around her thickened waist. He caressed her rounded stomach, his balls clenching with primitive pride at the evidence of the child he had put inside her.

Sylvester gritted his teeth against a dangerous swell of desire and reluctantly released her belly, quickly locating her engorged nub and working two powerful, back-to-back orgasms from her body.

“Sylvester…please,” she begged breathlessly when he thumbed the throbbing bundle of nerves, preparing to work her toward pleasure a third time.

He gave a mocking laugh. “Oh, now you are begging and not commanding?”

She whimpered.

“Once more,” he ordered.

***

Hy knew it was never a good idea to taunt her husband—at least not unless he was tightly bound hand and foot and she had a whip in her hand—but it was simply too tempting to bring out the streak of sensual cruelty that he usually kept under such tight control.

“Once more,” he barked, and then used his thumb in a way that demanded an orgasm from her exhausted body.

Hy gave in to the inevitable, too-intense wave of pleasure that crashed over her.

She had barely begun to convulse around his fingers when they disappeared, and he slammed his thick hard length so deeply she saw stars behind her eyelids. He remained motionless, keeping her stretched and almost uncomfortably full as she came undone.

Only when her climax ebbed did he move inside her, slow, deep thrusts that plumbed her so deeply that pleasure and pain met. He slid his hand into her hair and wrapped it around his fist, twisting her head to the side until she could see him looming over her, his eyes black with lust, his tightly clenched jaw making the savage scar on his cheek even more livid.

He drove into her hard and Hy whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut.