EXTRACT FOR
Odessa's Punishment
(Fiaine Cluiun)
Wyatt Drakeson paused outside of the staircase, one hand wrapped around the arm of his bride to be, his cock still aching from the spanking he'd given the woman. Not only a lesson in behavior, but his fingers still carried the scent of her sex, her first orgasm at his hands. Yet he'd withheld from himself the delight of using her virgin body on the stairs. No, what he had in mind for the female was far more than the stairs would allow for. Nor did he wish an audience during the delights of their wedding night. Such things were reserved for those times he knew she would require a stiffer punishment than privacy would permit, or she had earned a public correction through acts she'd carried out in front of others. At those times she would learn what it was to add humiliation to punishment.
As, no doubt, Belinda had.
"Sir, please, I need a moment to compose myself." She tugged, lightly, on his grip.
"Explain yourself, wife." He paused, turning to meet her eyes. The use of sir intrigued him, he hadn't told her to address him as such, but the spanking appeared to have worked beyond his expectations. "I have already sent word to the servants and others that I wish to speak with them."
They had time. A candle mark is what he'd given them. Perhaps half that time had passed since he'd made his announcement. If they all obeyed the command he would arrive to see most, if not all of the more important servants and guardsmen in the hall, waiting for him, when he walked in.
With flushed cheeks and a hurriedly downcast gaze, Anthea Morningschild ran the tip of her tongue over the plump temptation of her bottom lip. She glanced down the corridor, with its wide stone arches, then back to her feet. "I need to -- to wash my face, lest they see my shame written clearly."
"Shame is it now?" He reached out to cup the side of her face with his free hand. "Ah, sweet one, there's no shame in being corrected when there's need. Or do you think I should have let this," he released his grip on her arm to touch his swollen bottom lip, still throbbing from where she'd bitten him, "go unpunished?"
She shook her head, blushing as she shifted her feet. Nervous energy vibrated through Anthea as she avoided his eyes.
"And you would require a bath to hide what happened, the scent of a woman's arousal is distinctive, and not easily forgotten. I doubt any waiting for us will be embarrassed by what happened to you. Be thankful they weren't there to witness your wantonness." The pink staining her cheeks turned to a deep red as he watched. "Or is that what you wanted?"
She shook her head. "I ask that you give me time to bathe, sir."
He laughed and pulled Anthea into his arms. "Ah, such an innocent. No, you will learn, as others have before you, that your sexuality, your body, your reactions, even the delicious scent clinging to you now, all belong to me. If I choose to allow others to see you like this, then you will accept my decision."
She tensed, the color draining from her features. "Sir, please... don't..." If she wanted to say more the words failed to escape.
He leaned in, brushing his lips over hers, testing her reaction. He'd felt her orgasm in his arms, held across his lap where anyone might find them. Oh, he'd no doubt the woman had taken their location into consideration when he'd spanked her.
She flinched.
With a growl he claimed her hair as a hold, twisting it around his fingers until he felt her arch onto her toes. She didn't scream, or cry out, but the barely audible whimper didn't escape his notice.
Heat rippled between them as his cock demanded he strip the woman down and take her, but it wasn't the time. They weren't yet married and if he claimed her body before the ceremony was complete, and she became pregnant, there would always be those who would whisper the child wasn't his. He needed the protection of the blood-stained sheets in order to make his claim on their child, and the lands currently in her grasp.
A small detail she hadn't caught up on.
Woman or not, she was Piotr's only living heir. Whoever she wed would have a claim to the estate. A child would have a claim through her if the babe was male.
All things he had to take into account if he was to maintain his hold on the estate.
He ravaged her mouth, bruising her lips with the fierceness of his kiss. She whimpered, pulling back despite the grip he still held on to her hair. Did the woman understand nothing he'd said? She was his to do with as he wanted, would belong to him in the eyes of the law and the priesthood once the words had been said before witnesses, then she would be his wife until her dying day.