“Sweet Rosalind.” He would not let her lower her skirts. He ran his fingers over her punished arse, parting her bottom, touching her in the wicked, secret places he liked to torment. She rested her head upon his shoulder, letting him stroke her.
“I love you,” she said. “I love you so much.”
He sighed and moved his hands to her buttons, undoing them, pulling her bodice down to suck her taut nipples. A moment ago, he’d been blistering her bottom. Now he was making the pain blend into something else hot and exciting. Her head fell back as he kissed her neck, then gripped it. His other hand freed his cock from his trousers. She felt it rear up between her legs.
“Shall I suck and kiss you?” she asked, preparing to go to her knees.
“No, not this time.”
He held her fast and positioned his cock beneath her, then drove up inside her, in the way that made babies possible, the way he hadn’t dared since they were on the ship. It felt strange and full to have him enter her there. When he played with her bottom hole and pressed inside there, it was slow and a bit painful, but this was surging and fast and wonderful.
He bucked into her, and she moved with him, grasping his shoulders so she wouldn’t fall off his lap. He thrust so violently inside her she had to put her feet down and straddle him. He gripped her still-aching bottom and drove into her over and over, kissing and biting her exposed breasts, sending waves of delicious sensation through her limbs and to her middle. Her pelvis grew heavy with want, with need.
“Please, oh please don’t stop,” she begged as she neared completion.
“No, darling. Stay with me. Come with me.”
She would never accustom herself to the way he moved inside her and against her, as if he knew just the sensation she needed. Half-wild, people called him. This was the wonderful thing about having a half-wild husband. He was the passion others avoided, the poetry that proper ladies didn’t read.
“Oh, Marlow. Oh, please.”
He grasped her hips as she ground against him. She found her satisfaction with him deep inside, thrusting even deeper. He would not let her get away, not that she wished to. Her inner walls clenched against his hard length, and she was lost again to that blissful place he always took her. Half-wild, but fully wonderful.
Wanton.
Wondrous.
She collapsed against his chest, feeling his blood thrum beside her ear. He surged up into her, gaining his own release before she could even catch her breath. He gasped and went still, clutching her hips, driving her down.
“Rosalind. My God.”
She held him, nuzzling her head against his. Slowly, he relaxed and let out a long breath.
“The way you make me feel,” he whispered. “God save you, Rosalind. You make me lose all control.” He looked up at her, his blue eyes full of torment. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. Well, not the second part. The spanking hurt.”
His hands slid down to her backside, resting on her bunched-up skirts. “You drive me mad,” he said.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s fantastic.”
He gazed at her a moment. His regard seemed less like love than concern. “What is it?” she asked, taking his face in her hands. “What’s wrong?”
He looked away, then shook his head. “It’s nothing. Being here among everyone…well. I feel guilt and anxiety too.”
Her lips twitched up in a grin. “Maybe you need a spanking.”
“No, my darling. I’m more likely to go at you again if you don’t behave yourself.” He kissed her right upon her teasing smile. “The spankings in our household shall only go one way, I’m afraid.”
“My way.” She made a pretend pout, though she wasn’t really upset. She loved to hear him talk about their relationship. Their household.
He lifted her away from him and she noticed dampness between her legs. “Goodness, will there be a baby now?” she asked.
“There’s not always a baby, sweeting. But perhaps. It would be all right, wouldn’t it? We’re not in such danger anymore.”
“Yes, that’s true.” She wondered what a baby of theirs might look like. Would it be light blond like him, or have the dark Lockridge coloring that everyone found so striking?
“Are you feeling better now?” he asked, brushing back her hair. “A bit less guilty?”
“Yes. Oh, yes,” she answered. Even if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t have admitted it because she’d had quite enough spanking for one night.
As for the other, well, she wouldn’t mind indulging another time or two. Or three.