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When I let out a low shuddering breath, she finally was jolted into speech.

“How dare you!” she cried, her face almost white with rage.

“Your moral guidance for the day,” I bit out.

Then I made sure to drag her fingers through the cum on her skirts, rub that wetness all over her fingers.

Fuck that looked good.

For a moment I couldn’t control how my chest heaved with desire and I felt a spike of anger.

“Suck it off your fingers,” I ordered her sharply.

“No! Never!” she squeaked, and I yanked on the bodice of her dress, twisting the delicate fabric in my fist.

My hand skimmed her breasts as I tightened my hold.

“You’re going to rip it!” she breathed.

“Then suck it off your fingers,” I snarled back at her.

Finally, she obeyed, popping two fingers at a time in her mouth, sucking at them quickly, the motion hollowing her cheeks.

My future wife’s nose wrinkled at me.

“Get used to the taste,” I said. “You’ll suck my cum when I tell you to or you won’t get anything to eat.”

She stopped, her mouth dropping open, one perfect drop of cum hanging from her fingers, and as I watched it fell onto her tongue.

The wave of desire I felt irritated the fuck out of me, and without another word I got up from the couch and strode out of the room, giving cursory nods to the Wendovers taking anxious care of the son whose bones I had just broken.

Fuck them.

I just wasn’t used to dealing with virgins. That was all.

Catherine was nothing special. Just a means to an end.

CHAPTER 4

Catherine

As I fled to my bedroom, clutching my skirts in my hands, my face was red with disgusted horror. I hoped after the disgraceful and shameful way that St. Erth behaved that he wouldn’t dare to show his face again.

Even after I had changed and attempted to calm down, my mind was a whirl.

Surely he must be a madman, to behave so bizarrely? And to talk so openly about making me his wife, even though I had given him no encouragement whatsoever.

But Mama was excited, and even Papa seemed pleased with me.

“I don’t know what you are about, not to be excited!” she complained at dinner. “St. Erth is the handsomest man in London. Everyone will be so jealous of you if you become a Viscountess. And, indeed, it is a very sensible choice for him to choose a wife based on good breeding and not beauty.”

The analysis of me as the sensible choice depressed me. I thought about my dress, sticky with the Viscount’s release, that I had tried to clean in secret, about my sticky fingers, the taste of him salty and sweet in my mouth.

“I don’t like blonde men,” I said weakly, but they scoffed at me.

“I don’t think he’s a very kind man,” I tried again, desperately wanting to make them understand, but Papa glared at me.

“It doesn’t matter what kind of man he is, as long as he is wealthy.”