The Obedient Wife (an erotic short story)

by Delilah Devlin

  He chuckled and kissed her between the legs. “You please me, beauty.”

  She settled with a satisfied sigh and dug her fingers into the edge of the mattress because the rasp of his tongue was a pleasure so great she wanted to shout, but she didn’t want to spoil the moment with a shrill sound.

  His tongue lapped around her entrance, stroked over the button at the top of her folds that she’d teased when the pig herder pumped inside her ass. But he licked away from the nub, and she stifled her disappointment, only to gasp again when his unusually long tongue stroked inside her channel.

  Unable to resist, she undulated her hips, sighing and gasping as he gently entered her over and over. When he stopped all of a sudden, she moaned. “Why did you stop?”

  “I fear the beast that I am will be overcome. You are so sweet, so responsive, and I mustn’t take your quim until tonight. I cannot risk your maidenhead.”

  “But there are other places a man…or beast…can take with his…member. Or so I’ve been told,” she added breathlessly.

  “You’re too innocent for that kind of play, my dear.”

  “But I would please you, in whichever way you wish.” She lifted her head to meet his dark gaze and offered him what she hoped was a shy smile.

  He seemed to think about what she’d said, his eyes studying her, but she held her smile, and kept her eyes wide open and innocent.

  “Turn around and climb onto the edge of the mattress.”

  She did so, eagerly presenting her bottom.

  He growled deep in his throat and more liquid dripped down one thigh. His tongue caught the trickle then smoothed up to clean her folds.

  The miller’s daughter moaned and widened her stance, dipping her back to offer him everything he wanted if he would just take her and be done with the intimate act. Although there had been no ceremony, she was his wife by her father’s agreement. For the moment, she was more than willing to fulfill the bargain.

  His tongue trailed upward, past her folds to the tiny back entrance she found so deliciously sensitive. He swirled his tongue over it, parted her with his massive hands, and thrust the tip of his tongue inside her.

  The sensation was almost enough to send her to that place her clever hands delivered her nightly. He thrust and licked and thrust and licked until she forgot she wanted more.

  But he withdrew, and the sound of clothing rustling stirred her excitement more. Something thick and firm prodded between her buttocks. She found him bigger than even the smithy and breathed through her nose to calm her heart and ease the tightness of her arsehole.

  He slipped inside, his breath catching, and she smiled with pride that she could please him. His great paws bracketed her hips, and he began to thrust against her bottom, tunneling deeper and deeper until she was sure he’d split her in two. Not that she minded. To die in the thrall of such immense pleasure was its own torturous journey.

  “Pleasure your nubbin,” he growled.

  “What, sir?” Her words whooshed out on a gasp.

  “Use your finger to tease the knot at the top of your folds. You must know where it is and its purpose.”

  “I know it,” she admitted. “’Tis how I kept myself virgin.”

  He moved again, driving into her arse, explosive thrusts slamming deep as she swirled her finger over the slippery knot, the tension in her belly building to a painful crescendo. “No more. I can take no more,” she groaned.

  “Then come for me, sweetling,” he said, driving all the way inside her until the hair of his thighs abraded the insides of hers and his hairy balls clapped against her quim.

  ’Twas too much. Her back bowed, and she howled long and loud, and then collapsed to the bed, her naked breasts scraping on the fine counterpane beneath her chest.

  His thrusts slowed; his growling became a steady, rhythmic purr.

  When he stopped completely, she hid her face against the mattress to hide how pleased and fulfilled she was.

  He pulled free and turned her to her back, leaning his long hairy torso over hers, and gazed downward with his frightening, black gaze.

  She shivered, but realized the cause was not fear, not even a little bit. Her sex still convulsed in shallow pulses, and she wished she could know the feeling of his sex shafting deep inside her.

  Gaze narrowed again, he bent over her. His tongue lapped at her lips until she gasped and sucked it into her mouth. He pulled away and gazed down at her. “You are sure you are a virgin?”

  “My quim has waited for one such as you, milord. Look deeply again, and you will see the barrier is intact.”

  His face contorted into as near a smile as she imagined he could give. “Tonight. Close the curtains over the window. I will come to you again in darkness.”

  When he made to leave, she rolled to the center of the bed. She fell asleep within seconds.

  That night, she stirred when the wind tossed the thick curtains cloaking the windows. She woke feeling drowsy, an ache in her arse, and another more pleasurable one building between her legs.

  The wooden door creaked open and a dark shadowy figure approached the bed. Her heart stilled for a second. “Milord?”

  “’Tis I.”

  His voice sounded softer, and she smiled in the darkness, having no doubts she’d pleased him earlier.

  “You aren’t frightened of me?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I would ask for your obedience tonight. Unquestioned obedience.”

  Her body reacted to his request with surprising enthusiasm. She scissored her thighs to rub the moisture seeping from her body between them. “I will obey.”

  “You must raise your hands above your head and clasp the rungs of the headboard. You cannot let go, no matter what passes.”

  She liked this game more than she was willing to say and reached slowly above her head to wrap her hands tightly around the iron rungs.

  “Now, open your legs and raise your knees. I want the cradle of your thighs completely exposed.”

  “Can you see me?”

  “In all your splendor, my love.”

  She liked the way he said that, almost as though he meant it. So she parted her legs and raised her knees, letting them splay as wide as she could.

  The mattress dipped at the foot of the bed.

  Her heart began to beat wildly. “You will do it now?” she asked hoarsely. “You will take my virginity?”

  “If that is what you offer me, then yes.”

  “It is yours, I swear.”

  “And yet your arse has known another man.”

  “I…” Her breath caught on a sob. “I have no excuse, can offer no apology. But I can tell you I took no carnal joy of the men who used me.”

  A sigh sounded. And she hoped he wasn’t angry.

  “Your quim, it will be mine alone?”

  Relief washed through her as she gave her honest answer. “Yes. It is yours. My virginity saved for just this moment.”

  “Then we will speak of the past no more. Do not touch me as I do this. You may not touch or see me. Promise me.”

  She didn’t think twice about his strange instructions, sure his purpose was to make their first mating more erotic. “I promise.”

  She felt the heat of him hovering over her, heard the sounds of him stroking his cock inside his palm, then felt the nudge of its head against her quim. Her breath hitched and liquid spilled again.

  “So sweet. So wet,” he groaned, feeding his sex into her channel, filling her with his thickness and thrusting only an inch or two inside, the thin membrane proving her innocence stretching.

  “I want more. I can take more,” she moaned, sensations tickling deep in her belly.

  “Slowly; I have no wish to harm you.”

  “I ache for you, milord. Fill me!”

  With one push, he thrust forward, tearing past her virginity.

  She howled then quaked beneath him, her body arching as pleasure and pain cut so deeply she feared she’d unravel like a shreddin
g ribbon.

  He thrust and bucked, but never so deeply she felt the fur around the base of his cock or the clap of his thick, hairy balls.

  “Deeper,” she cried out.

  “’Tis as deep as I am meant to go. I’m nearly there.” He thrust hard again, crowding through her slick walls, choking the throat of her womb—and it was enough.

  Her body shuddered and jerked. She bit her lips to hold back her wild cries because she was hurtling fast toward the ceiling.

  His shout echoed in the room, but he didn’t linger after he spent his seed. He pulled away, climbing off the mattress and backing from the bed.

  “Why do you leave me?” she asked, sitting up and wondering if now that he’d had her maidenhead he no longer wanted her.

  “I leave because I must. You will stay. You must keep away from me until morn. Promise me you will obey.”

  She promised, but as soon as she said the words, she wasn’t sure she could keep her vow. She was too curious. Still aroused.

  His footsteps hurrying down the stone case, he left her.

  The miller’s daughter sat in the darkness, wondering what she’d done, how she might have displeased him. But another niggling worry entered her mind. All the while he’d taken her, she hadn’t felt his coarse hair abrade her sensitive skin. Not anywhere. And his voice, while still a deep rumbling bass, hadn’t growled.

  Had she even been swived by the same creature?

  At that thought, she sat upright and wiped the sheet between her legs to dry his seed and snuck out of the room, pressing her naked back against the cold stone wall as she slipped downward.

  A light blazed in the hall he’d led her to when she first arrived. She took a deep breath and quickly peeked around the corner, but whoever was inside sat in a high-backed chair, facing a blazing fire. She couldn’t see his face.

  As silently as she could, she crept into the room until the profile of the being sitting in the chair was clear. She gasped because he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen—hair black as midnight, a heavy manly brow and strong jaw. His body was muscled, but lean, his cock large even though it lay flaccid against his solid leg. Her breath caught.

  A dark, angry gaze swiveled her way, and a loud growl reverberated through the room. “You disobeyed me!”

  The voice, although slightly thinner, was indeed her beast’s, but she stared gape-mouthed at the creature in front of her—wholly male and as naked as she. Her body burned remembering how the shaft lying close to his brawny thigh had filled her. “It is you? Truly you?”

  “Fool,” he bit out. “It was all for naught.”

  “What, sir?” she said, reacting to the despair in his voice. “Tell me.”

  With his expression hardening, he waved a hand toward his body. “You see this form that pleases you so? It was mine before I fucked a hag’s daughter. When I refused to wed her because she was not a virgin, her mother cursed me.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. When he opened his dark brown eyes again, he revealed a devastating sadness. “Now I spend my days as the beast, my nights as a man. If I’d found an obedient wife, a virgin wife, I would have broken the curse. Now I’m damned to live out my life as neither fully man nor beast.”

  The miller’s daughter’s eyes filled with tears caused by a foreign sense of empathy for this man she barely knew. Her heedless action had caused him despair. For the first time in her life, she felt a burning lump of regret lodge in her throat.

  She stepped closer, despite the anger tightening his features. “This curse. What does it cost you?”

  “I am a fearful sight,” he gritted out. “I frighten the villagers. They refuse to serve me. I fear they will one day revolt and murder me because I am not fully human. And worse, I cannot touch a woman in passion for fear my talons might tear her flesh.”

  For the first time in her young life, her thoughts were not for her own comfort or pleasure. Her chest tightened as she realized the damage her damnable curiosity had wrought.

  A pulse pounded in her neck. She licked her lips and crept closer still. “If another acts in your stead to acquire those services you miss, is not that problem solved?”

  His eyes narrowed, but he gave her a swift, sharp nod.

  “If another can acquire the staff and men-at-arms to properly see to your security, is not another problem solved?”

  After a moment, his chest rose and he nodded more softly this time.

  Beneath his glittering gaze, her resolve grew. “If you found yourself a wife willing to bed the beast and the man, would not the last problem be solved?”

  His breath left in a long, pent-up sigh. “Yes.”

  Hands on her hips, she sniffed and tossed back her hair. “This nonsense about finding an obedient wife, that’s not something you truly desire, is it?”

  His beautiful smile took away her breath, and his hands shot out to grip her hips and bring her over his body to straddle his thighs. “I will demand obedience in only one place.”

  “And where will that be?” she whispered, a smile curving one corner of her mouth.

  “The bedchamber, of course.”

  After a thrill flashed through her body, she leaned close to his mouth. “I will be a slave to your pleasure, milord. In the bedchamber.”

  He shifted her until his cock sought refuge in her silky, slick well. “Then I shall be your master, and happily so.”

  The miller’s daughter smiled, for she had longed for adventure and to see amazing sights.

  The man before her embodied all her desires—for freedom to live her life as she willed, for a companion whose desires matched her own greedy appetite. For a beast who could make her tremble with fear and delight.

  Pressing her hands upon his strong shoulders, she fucked the handsome lord until the shadow of the beast reawakened in his dark eyes.

  About Delilah Devlin

  Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of erotica and erotic romance with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing deliciously edgy stories with complex characters. She has published over a hundred thirty erotic stories in multiple genres and lengths, and she is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Montlake Romance, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing.

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  Excerpt from Wet Down

  Sherry stood so near the closed blinds, she could feel the heat trapped between the white wooden slats and the double-paned glass. Dust motes floated in the gilded light slipping between the blades. All she could do was stare.

  She finally had what she wanted. So, why wasn’t she happier about it? Perhaps because now that the election was over, the whirlwind pace of her life had slowed. And little things became as glaringly clear as the floating specks.

  Being mayor of a small West Texas town didn’t pay squat, meant she couldn’t step out of the house in sweats, a holey tee and no makeup, and pretty much guaranteed she’d have to run into her soon-to-be-ex-husband on occasion.

  The only upside was if she kept super-busy, maybe she would barely even think about him.

  “It’s a wet down ceremony. We have to make a speech,” her assistant said, her gaze fixed on the tablet she always held filled with hen-scratched “notes to self.”

  Only the notes weren’t to herself, they were to Sherry, the mayor. A strange quirk Sherry tried to find endearing. But Martha had made it very clear, by the way she’d commandeered Sherry’s schedule and made executive decisions about the appointments she ought to keep, that she didn’t consider Sherry mayoral material. Martha likely thought Sherry was too young and flighty. Caldera’s last mayor h
ad retired from public service after twenty-five years sitting in this office. And in the past few, he’d allowed Martha free rein, something Sherry would have to deal with, but was reluctant to approach.

  Sometimes, her EA creeped her out with her bifocaled, unblinking stare and constant use of the royal we. Sherry was the mayor, not the queen bee.

  Although she had been a member of Caldera’s royal court for homecoming. Back in the day when she and Blake had been inseparable. High school football star, homecoming princess. They’d both been so beautiful. So freaking stupid. And there she was thinking about him again.

  She flipped the blinds and stared across the street at the fire engine parked on the concrete drive, already looking cleaner than her kitchen counter—and they were giving it another bath? Why? Soon, they’d be retiring the truck because it was too old. She snorted. A fireman would have an obscene name for a ceremony that retired one loyal, trusty engine and introduced a prettier, sleeker new model.

  Sherry drew in a deep breath. She wasn’t going there. Wasn’t going to imagine what a firefighter’s personal wet down ceremony might entail. Again, she gripped the cord, ready to flip back the blinds. As a force of habit, she kept them permanently turned to prevent even an accidental view of the station across the street. The open bays faced City Hall, and on any given day, she could look out and see the firefighters on shift in their torso-hugging t-shirts and dark pants, looking sexy as hell as they crawled all over their big engines…

  Holy shit, her mind was wandering again. “Can’t someone on the city council take the ceremony?” she asked, not looking back.

  One of the firemen was speaking to someone just out of sight.

  She waited, her breath held as the other man moved into view. Blake. Her entire body sighed. Head-to-toe tingled. She might be mad as hell at him, but she still loved everything about the way he looked—close-cut dark brown hair, brown eyes a girl could sink into, shoulders so broad you just knew you were safe when he appeared—and right now, he was shirtless, holding his tee in a crumpled wad and wiping his damp chest. She swayed closer to the window.