Page 23

He gave an order, and so she complied. She called his name, her body bowing beneath him as much as he allowed. Her depths felt like the fluttering wings of a hummingbird as Nicholas swelled, pushed deeper...

Her vision flashed, bright white and hot, and the world fell away.

When she finally came back down, she could scarcely catch her breath or account for the sweat that beaded on her brow.

"Beautiful." Nicholas whispered the compliment against her shoulder, and she felt the warm, wet slick trickling down her thighs. But he was still inside her, impossibly hard and thick. He trailed a hand down her leg as his lips kept tormenting her breast. "But I don't think we can stop just yet. One more time..."

“One ... more?” She gaped at the idea. “My lord—”

A startled yelp escaped her as Nicholas seized her waist and flipped her over like a doll—as boneless as she felt, maybe she was—and lifted her backside in a wildly unladylike position. A stiff feather pillow wedged beneath her hips, and Nicholas's arms pinned hers to the bed. She blinked, uncomprehending, at his fingers against her wrist. Then he invaded her again.

Her nails dug into the bed’s linens. He slammed into her so hard, so fast. For a fleeting moment, her eyes flashed wide. The scars. They were on full display. It almost broke the spell, but then another thrust, the head of his cock pressing hard against something inside of her she never knew existed, dissolved everything, including her own name.

"Good girl." Nicholas's hips moved faster, somehow, driving moans from her along with the air from her lungs. "You're meant for this. Right here."

She couldn't answer, couldn't form words.

A sharp, stinging blow to her right buttock broke her voice into a wordless cry, the reflexive flinch gripping him so much it was almost as bad—and as good—as the first few seconds he'd claimed her.

“Wait. N—no ... I ... Oh!” The wave of sensation crashed into her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Her body turned to flame and then fell into oblivion for ... years?

When she could breathe again, she tried to pull away, leveraging what little room she had. “Stop...” she whispered. And then louder. “Nicholas, don’t.”

"Don't what?" He pushed deeper until she whimpered.

“D—don’t hit me.”

"Even if it makes you come so hard you swoon?" He kissed the nape of her neck and showed no inclination to let her up or retreat from their linked position.

“M—maybe ... I ... I don’t know ... I can’t ... think. I need t—to think...”

How? When his lips were on her? When his cock was impaling her...?

"Thinking is for Amy. Tonight, you're Mia. All you need to do is feel, darling." He let go of one arm, and she felt his hand sliding down between her and the mattress, finding her clit, as he was so fond of doing. "You’ll have to come again. That's the price of thinking now." His hips started moving, and the dual sensations spiraled through her.

But along with the pleasure—and the pain—came frustration. She wanted to turn. She wanted to touch him. To be able to move. To respond. But he was so large, in every way, and so strong. His body covered hers, filled her to the point of pain. She knew now what it meant to be his. And with the realization, she waited for the regret. The anger. But all that coursed through her was excitement. She didn’t want this! But ... but she wanted more. Damn it, he’s right. Too much thinking...

“If that’s the price, y—you’ve got to make me come more than once.”

"Poor darling." He ran a heavy palm along her backside, but no more stinging slaps came. Only the dull impact of his body against hers. "You're going to be so overwrought..." Warm, wet digits slid down to where he was entering her, then up, to ... Oh...

“What are you—Ah!” She needed to tell him to stop. Surely, this wasn’t a part of her duties as a wife. Only, after the initial stretch...

It wasn’t so bad.

Then he pushed further, and a sound somewhere between a gasp and a scream ripped from her.

"There's my brave little mistress," he whispered, the finger inside her backside turning, twisting, doing ... God knew. The world tilted and narrowed as he manipulated her, and the angle of his cock did ... something else. Stars ignited behind her eyes. "Come again, sweet. I'm so close."

What else could she do? The onslaught came from too many fronts.

She feared the climax would kill her. Each time she thought she’d neared the end, she’d tumbled again into ecstasy until, finally, something snapped and she went limp beneath him, tears in her eyes, her mouth greedily sucking air into her breath-deprived lungs.

She felt his frenzied thrusts, the warm flood within, and his weight collapsing onto her for a dizzying second before he rolled off and out, leaving cold air and aching emptiness until he pried her left side up and drew her into his arms—she was entirely incapable of doing it herself.

"Welcome to the world, Viscountess," he whispered.

Tears continued their gradual path down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop them, even if she didn’t understand them. They slowed eventually, and she angled her face up to look at him, startled to see how disheveled he looked.