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The answer came so easily, she stopped short, having a moment of out-of-body shock as if she were staring at herself sitting in the bath, half cradled by her dark and demanding lord husband in the remains of her brutal father’s personal suite. But the girl in the tub was Mia Blackmore, now. She wanted her husband’s full, obsessive attention—she didn’t want to wait for him in Bath, chased away by Amy Sunderland’s ghosts. “I ... I may still have some bad turns. In the study.”

“We’ll sort that out in time, won’t we?” Nicholas kissed her lips, hard enough to make her whimper, and he bit her lower lip before thrusting his tongue into her, reminding her how much she appreciated it when he took control. “Now, we need to finish your bath.”

“I ... I want to make it up to you. For having to—”

“No. You know the rules.” Nicholas kissed her forehead. “No apologizing. The game’s about more than how many spankings you get. Of course, that means we may have to negotiate matters.” He resumed washing her, the familiar ritual and his enforcement of it calming her jangled nerves until he finally helped her stand and step onto the carpet.

Safely wrapped in a heavy robe and bundled onto the chaise longue by the monstrous fireplace, she drowsed in Nicholas’ arms while he read some new piece from Lord Byron. It had lovely imagery, but all she really cared about was his deep, expressive voice lulling her under. She savored the quiet, sweet moments. It would make them so much hotter when he woke her up to do something deliciously wicked.

Which was, as usual, exactly what happened.

****

She woke up to Nicholas’s hands roving under her night shift and what felt like a slick of oil between her legs. He was insistent, his mouth hot and demanding on her throat, her shoulder.

“What are you here for, Mia?” His voice was low, rough from sleep, an ominous growl as he dragged her hips back against his erection.

“Your pleasure,” she replied by rote. She pushed her hips down, already desperate to feel him slide into her pussy. “H—how’d you get me so wet?”

“You were like that when I woke up. I think you went to bed unsatisfied.” He squeezed her nipples hard and twisted them until she keened for mercy. He pushed his erection against her body, sliding through her slick folds but not giving her what she wanted. “I’m going to spend the day hard as hell knowing what a wicked little slut you were in your dreams.”

“I ... I’m sorry, Daddy. I m—must’ve been dreaming ... about you...”

“Shh.” He nipped her earlobe, and her nipples stung with another hard twist. “You’re going to be very quiet. The maids are on morning rounds. They’ll already be gossiping about all the sounds of those spankings you got the last few days.” Mia’s cheeks heated, and she pushed her face into the pillow as he kept kneading her breasts.

“Daddy, please...” she whispered the plea, shivering as he lifted her right leg, draping it over his hip so she splayed indecently, her back against him, his hands roving her bared chest.

He’d closed the bed hangings, so she had no idea what was going on in the world beyond. What if a breeze from an open window revealed her wanton position to a servant? A footman? Her body clenched, and Nicholas’s fingers stroked her sodden, shamefully wet pussy while Mia grabbed his wrists, trying to push him back to her breasts.

“Mm. Don’t worry. You’re going to get exactly what you need today.” His cock pushed into her pussy, just to the tip, enough to make her whimper. “But not yet.” He pulled back, his tip moving, tilting ... pushing into...

“N—no, Daddy...” She gasped, trying to appear to wiggle away without doing it emphatically enough to actually succeed. “You sh—shouldn’t... I c—can’t be quiet for that.”

“Yes, you can.”

Easily said by the man shoving a cricket bat into her ass. Mia whimpered into the pillow. “Y—you’re too big. Please, Daddy.”

“You’ll stretch. Play with your clit, angel. That’ll help.” He wouldn’t let her close her legs, and her head was swimming as his impossibly hard, too-thick cock invaded her. He hadn’t taken her ass in a week...

She took over, rubbing her clit, frantic to distract herself while Nicholas resumed tweaking and tormenting her breasts. And claimed her. Inch by delirious inch.

He didn’t grant her the reprieve of oil until he seated himself to the base, and Mia was pinned underneath him, gasping into the cool linen sheets. Her world narrowed to his directions and the heat building up from his rough thrusts and her own sinful self-pleasure.

“That’s it,” Nicholas breathed against her ear. “Give me that tight little ass whenever I want.”

“Y—yes. Anything ... whenever...” She gritted the words out, a wad of linen bitten between her teeth.

“Whose favorite toy are you, angel?” One of the hands, wringing pleasure and agony from her breasts, grabbed her throat, holding her head down.

“Daddy’s,” she breathed. “Daddy’s ... favorite ... toy...”

“That’s right. Stay right like that...” He had her pinned, but he held her hips at the angle he wanted, and his thrusts were slow, quiet. The only sounds were the whispering of skin against linen, Mia’s muffled gasps, and the blood rushing in her ears.

By the time his cum spilled into her, she’d half swooned with her own strangled pleasure—she’d come with his hand tight around her throat and mouth to keep her quiet. She protested when he pulled out of her more than when he’d slid in.

“My sweet girl,” Nicholas whispered the endearment, gathering her closer. He always held her until she came back together. “You’re going to have a very trying day.”

“Mm. Can’t I just stay in bed and sleep until you want me again?”