by Renee Rose
* * *
She jerked at the velvety caress of his tongue, but the ropes would not allow her to get away. She strained anyway, somehow needed to resist, to prove she did not want this, not any part of it, even though it felt… so… A wanton sound escaped her lips.
“You like that, don’t you, little girl?” He nibbled at her outer lips.
“No,” she wailed, though it sounded more like another lusty moan. “Sir Barrett,” she pleaded breathlessly. “Bear? Husband?”
“My lord and master?” he suggested, grinning wickedly before diving back down and teasing her with the incredible undulations of his tongue. Flick, suck, nibble… he tortured her endlessly as she squirmed and rolled her hips to and fro.
“Please,” she panted.
“Please, what, my love?” he asked, slipping one finger inside her and curling it to hit her inner wall.
She panicked, the sensations overwhelming, an urgency—some unknown bodily need taking over. “Don’t… oh, please, oh, please.” She tugged at her bonds, fluid trickling shamefully from her sex.
“Take me, Bear,” he prompted. “Just say it, and I’ll give you sweet release.”
Sweet release sounded like what she needed. But no, she couldn’t give in. Sounds came out of her throat—strange and desperate. Keening, mewling notes like an animal in heat. “Please, Bear,” she pleaded.
“Say it,” he urged.
“I… can’t,” she said.
Abruptly, he pulled his finger from inside her and shook his head. “No?” he asked.
She stared up at him, bereft without his touch. “Please,” she pleaded once again, though she did not even know what she wanted.
He appeared disappointed as he freed her of the ropes. For a moment, she thought he would punish her by depriving her of all touch, but blew out the lamp and climbed up beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her snugly against him.
She closed her eyes, melting into his warmth, drinking in his strength. After a while, his arm grew heavy and his breath deepened. She lay in the darkness, unable to sleep. Her entire body still rioted with need—her sex pulsed, her breasts had grown heavy and her nipples tight. The feather mattress seemed too hot tonight. She kicked the covers off her legs. The cool air did nothing to soothe her fire. She rubbed her feet together to release a little pent-up energy.
She reviewed every single thing Sir Barrett had done or said to her that day, examining his actions, looking for fault. She felt irritable; she’d gladly bite his hand again if he put it in her way, even if it did mean a whipping. She slid her hand over her hip to her naked buttocks, squeezing one cheek to remember the sting of his hand, the agonizing welts of his crop. Why did that make her stomach somersault?
The pulsing between her legs had only become more insistent. What had he done to her? The memory of his tongue circling and penetrating brought a fresh wave of heat crashing over her. She slid her hand between her thighs and touched the wetness there. What had he said? Her body was readying for him? The sensation of her fingers against her sensitive pleats sent ripples of pleasure down her inner thighs. She began to stroke herself the way he had done, exploring her own anatomy with interest for the first time.
As she probed and teased, the same sort of urgency came over her. She began to pull against her mons, stretching her legs in the opposite direction, tightening her buttocks and thighs. Her bottom clenched and relaxed, undulating in rhythm with her hand, satisfying her and yet creating more need at the same time—like the scratching of an itch that only grows and grows.
Suddenly, a huge hand clamped down over hers, stilling it. “Naughty, naughty girl,” Barrett murmured in her ear. “Are you allowed to touch yourself?”
She groaned and pulled her fingers against her mons.
“Ah, ah,” he tsked, pulling her hand out from between her thighs and pushing her to her belly. “That’s a spanking, and I’m not inclined to go easy on you, either,” he said.
She hardly minded. A spanking might help scratch her itch.
He slid his fingers between her cheeks and found the shameful moisture. “Very naughty, Daisy. You’re soaking wet,” he said, taking his time to investigate, renewing her burning need with each circle of his fingertip.
“Ahh,” she moaned, pressing her hips into the bed and lifting them over and over again.
But he withdrew his fingers, bringing his hand crashing down on the middle of her buttocks, just above her sex.
She moaned again, her fingers burrowing into the soft woolen mattress. She lifted her bottom for more. If he wanted to punish her, she would take it—every swat. Hopefully it would quench the burning desire, put out the flames of lust she never wanted to feel.
He repeated the action, spanking her in the same delicious place where the reverberation went straight to her sex. He moved from where he’d been sitting beside her to the head of the bed, sitting with his back against the wall. “Lay yourself over my legs for a proper spanking,” he said, his voice gravelly.
She obeyed, crawling up to him and draping herself willingly over his thighs. To her satisfaction, he picked up exactly where he’d left off, spanking the sweet spot that went straight to her core. She arched for him, offering her bottom up, seeking each slap. It seemed like he could spank her all night and she’d never complain. She wanted it as much as she’d wanted his fingers to continue their tease. She tensed when a finger from his other hand slid between her buttocks, finding her most private hole. He circled the rim of her anus, all the while he continued to spank and she shattered, her body shivering, her hands diving between her legs as she bucked her hips.
Barrett kept spanking until it had passed and she collapsed in a limp heap. Even then, she would not have minded if he continued spanking her all night. The pain felt good, somehow. “I didn’t say you could climax, Daisy,” Barrett murmured.
She could not even bring herself to beg forgiveness.
“I ought to whip you with my sword belt for that.”
A second climax sent her bucking at his words.
He rubbed her bottom with hard, punishing strokes. “I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, my naughty little wife?” He bent over and kissed one of her blazing cheeks, confirming her suspicion that he was not in the least bit angry with her over the broken rule. All the irritation she’d directed toward him when she’d first laid down morphed into affection and even optimism. Mayhap this marriage might work for her, after all.
If only she could hold him off from ever consummating the thing.
Chapter Five
“Good morning, love.” Barrett stroked his palm up the baby-soft skin of Daisy’s back, noticing how rough his hands seemed in comparison.
She rolled over and blinked at him. She looked so innocent, so unspoiled. He had planned to continue his sexual torments with her that morning, but he couldn’t even bring himself to kiss her lips. Her beauty made his chest ache. He wanted more than just her body, he realized. As he had explained to her, he wanted her heart, mind, and soul. Every piece of her.
“Good morning,” she said, a tinge of color coming to her cheeks, as if she just remembered how they’d ended the previous night.
He kissed her forehead and rolled out of bed to get dressed.
“My lord?” she asked, sitting up and pulling the covers to her armpits to hide her bare breasts.
“Yes, Daisy?”
“Are you going to…” she dropped her eyes to the bedcovers, “lock me up again today?” she asked, plucking at a stray thread.
His heart twisted. “No, sweet girl,” he said before he’d even had a chance to consider his options. “Did you say you liked to hunt?”
Her face lifted, shining with expectation. “Aye, my lord. Will you take me?”
Resisting her child-like joy would be an impossibility. “If you promise to be respectful at breakfast this morning.”
She beamed, slipping out of bed and running, hunched over as if to hide her body, to slip on her ch
emise. “I promise,” she said, jumping when she discovered him right behind her.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind. “All spoils go to your master,” he murmured in her ear.
She melted back against him, in what he considered his best-won victory yet, and laughed a deep, throaty laugh. “Of course, my lord.”
At breakfast, he sat down on the bench and watched her eye the bench and him with uncertainty. To his shock, she chose his lap.
“Ah, the little bird has been tamed,” Erik remarked. “Does that mean you’ll let her stay in with the ladies today?”
He smiled. “Mayhap after dinner. This morning, I am taking her hunting with me.”
The knights and ladies of the high table looked perplexed. “Hunting?”
“Aye. The lady likes to hunt.”
Several people exchanged glances, but he didn’t care. Daisy’s eccentricities made him all the more proud of her.
“That’s what became of the ladies of Hohenzollern without a man to rule there,” one of the knights remarked.
“All the more fortune for me,” he remarked lightly, leaving them to decipher his meaning.
Daisy sat perfectly still, politely waiting for him to give her permission to begin.
“You may eat,” he said.
He enjoyed the feel of her on his lap where he could inhale her sweet scent and feel her soft warmth. He looped an arm around her waist and stroked her side and legs, feeling her stiffness ease with each passing moment.
When they finished, they went to his chamber where he helped her into her cloak and picked up his riding crop. “Do you know what will happen if you try to escape me today?” he asked, reaching out and patting her bottom with the crop.
“I won’t,” she said, turning away dismissively.
He swung the crop and caught the underside of her bottom, making her leap forward and grab her bottom.
“I said, I wouldn’t,” she exclaimed, turning around and glaring.
He caught her up in his arms, joining her hands in rubbing away the sting. “Do not glare at me. If I think you need a taste of my whip to remind you to behave, I will use it.”
“You,” she said furiously, attempting to push him away.
“This little bottom is mine,” he said, squeezing it possessively. “Mine to punish or pleasure as I see fit. Do you need another reminder before we go?”
Pride warred with practicality in her expression and he hoped she would test him again, but she shook her head. “No, sir.”
He smiled and touched her nose. “Smart girl.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?”
She took his arm and they walked out to the stables where Penrod had already saddled his destrier and a pretty roan for Daisy. She stroked the mare, introducing herself and speaking softly in the manner of someone well-accustomed to horses. He helped her into the saddle, then mounted his own stallion and led the way out of the castle gates and into the forest.
The day was quiet. A light dusting of snow had fallen during the night, making everything look clean and white, the snow catching the sunlight and sparkling. They rode side by side, following a path through the trees.
“It’s beautiful,” Daisy breathed.
He smiled, enjoying her happiness.
She turned to him. “Thank you so much for taking me out today,” she said. “I can’t stand being cooped up inside.”
“Nor can I,” he said.
“You don’t mind having a wife who prefers to act like a man?”
He bit back a laugh. “Little Daisy, you are nothing like a man. And no, I meant it when I said it was my fortune to have a wife who likes to hunt, for now we have something we can do together.” He gave her a wink.
She looked at him doubtfully. “I think everyone at Rothburg will pity you for your poor choice in wives.”
“Enough,” he said. “Rothburg will accept you, just as you shall accept her. Do not fret over it.”
She didn’t answer, but within a few moments looked content again, taking in the scenery. They saw a buck and she had her arrow fit to her bow before he did, but his horse stepped on a stick and the buck startled and ran.
They rode for over an hour before they stopped to rest. He helped her from the horse, catching her waist and guiding her along his body as he lowered her, until she landed at his feet, her slender form pressed against his.
He expected her to protest, but she looked up at him expectantly. He bent and caught her lips, tasting her sweetness. When she returned the kiss, he went rock hard. Grasping the back of her head, he took her mouth more insistently, licking into her lips.
* * *
She gasped, pulling away from Barrett, a bit frightened by his invasion. He abandoned her mouth, kissing down her neck, nipping at the place it met her shoulder. He slipped his hand inside her cloak, cupping her breast and squeezing it.
Her legs grew weak. He pulled open the laces of her gown, baring her nipple to the cold air, where it stood up in a hardened point. He flicked his tongue over it and she groaned, the contrast of warm to cold making it burn. “What are you doing?” she croaked.
“What do you think I’m doing?” he murmured, grasping her bottom with one hand and pulling her even closer.
He had her completely off-balance. If he released her, she would fall backward onto the ground. She clung to his arms, giving up maintaining herself apart from him. Barrett would never let her fall—she knew it instinctively, even though it cost her to give up her own independence. She let go, stopped trying to keep her toes balanced on the slippery ground and relaxed into him, letting his strength bear her weight.
He picked her up, pulling her legs to straddle his waist, and carried her to a fallen log, which he brushed off and sat upon. “You know what I think?” he asked, his voice low and seductive.
“What, sir?”
“I think if you tried sex in some new and fresh position, you wouldn’t even know we were coupling. Like this one for instance.” He yanked her hips closer to his body and she realized her sex lay just above his manhood.
She attempted to push back, but he held her close, gripping her bottom with both hands and grinding her quim against the bulge in his leggings. “Barrett,” she cried, bringing her fist down on his shoulder.
“Don’t be naughty or I will have to warm your bottom for you,” he warned.
A shivering had begun in her sex and spread down her legs, making her toes scrunch up in her boots. Moisture had begun to pool again. She wondered: what would the harm be in trying it this way? He was right; nothing about the position or the feeling in her body reminded her of her first time. She rocked her hips, joining him in the grinding motion, testing the sensations it produced.
Both breasts tightened, heavy and full. She ground against him harder, a sigh escaping her lips.
Barrett pulled out the skirts trapped between them until her hot core rested right on top of his bulging hose. His cock moved beneath her, twitching and straining.
She panicked, rearing to scramble off his lap.
“Easy, easy, easy,” he soothed, catching her before she fell face first onto the ground and lifting her to her feet. “You’re all right, little one. Nothing is going to happen until you say yes. I promised you that, did I not?”
She stamped her feet, smoothing her skirts and trying to calm her racing heart.
“Did I not?” he repeated.
“Yes, sir,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.
“Oh, Daisy,” he said, catching her up in his arms. “Please don’t cry. You can trust me, my sweet. I’m not going to force you.”
She nodded, sniffing. “I know. I know that, I do. I just…” What had happened? She hardly knew herself. “I guess I got scared. Something reminded me.” She shuddered. It had been the thought of his manhood that frightened her. It had been manageable the night before, when she had a bit more control in how she touched it, but today had been too fast. “I’m sorry,” she said. She started to cry again. “I truly am sorr
y. I cannot be your wife. I’ll never be able to give what you want me to.”
“Hush,” he said. “You will, love. It’s only been two days. We have our whole lives together. I am not worried—you should not be either. You can trust me, Daisy.”
She nodded, brushing the tears away. “I do,” she said. “I really do.”
He looked cheered by that. “Let’s start back. We don’t want to miss the midday meal.” He helped her back onto her horse.
Her bare quim hit the saddle and the slickness of her juices made it slide. It felt so different from before; what did Barrett do to her body that made it react this way? She sucked in her breath at the sensation it produced. It was not quite as intense as Sir Barrett’s lap had been, but she still found a wonderful wave of heat each time she rocked back. They began to ride and she rocked into a delicious rhythm, rubbing her sex over the smooth leather. She stole a glance over her shoulder to see if Sir Barrett noticed her undulations, but he wore a blank face.
She continued, growing slightly dizzy, her breath staying high in her chest, coming in quick little gasps. She rubbed harder and faster until her muscles seized. She squeezed the saddle tight with her inner thighs as her bottom tightened and the muscles in her core contracted over and over again. When it passed, she slumped in the saddle, her muscles relaxed and warm.
When they arrived back at the stable, Sir Barrett helped her down. “You are in big, big trouble,” he growled.
She drew in her breath in dismay, her bottom clenching convulsively.
He didn’t say a word as he led her up to his room, swishing the crop ominously through the air. He shut the door and tapped the bed with the crop. “Bend over.”
She stole a glance at his face, but could not read whether he was truly angry or not. She bent over, leaving her skirts down, since he hadn’t instructed her to lift them.
