Page 81 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess

“If you ask nicely,” he said, his tone teasing, verging on cruelty. Not truly cruel, but playfully so. “If you beg like a good girl.”

Her heart beat in her chest—spite warring with lust as he continued to move his fingers in and out of her.

“M–must I?” her voice trembled, the ecstatic sensations in her body taking over her mind.

“Yes, wife, you must,” he leaned down, and pressed another kiss to her inner thigh, still not looking away from her all the while. “If you do not yield, I will stop.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “You would not.”

“Oh, yes, I will,” he kissed her other thigh, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there.

“How dare you!”

Adam chuckled at her protest, then Rosaline exclaimed as she was flipped onto her stomach.

“What—” she gasped as Adam left from between her legs and sat up.

She felt the bed shift beneath her as he moved them both so that he was sitting upright, and she was straddling him, a leg to either side of his hips.

There was a sharp, delicious impact against her bottom. She nearly jumped at the unexpectedness of it, then squirmedagainst his lap when he rubbed his palm soothingly against the stinging stretch of skin.

She noticed with pleasure his sharp intake of breath at her movement. She shifted again, being sure to press herself against the still hard length of his manhood.

“Too much?” he asked as she looked him deep into his eyes.

The stinging in her backside had turned into a pleasant tingle, which only made her all the more aware of how delicious it was to be where she was now—naked, aroused, and in the arms of a man who wanted nothing more than to show her all the different ways of experiencing pleasure.

“No,” she said finally, sounding a bit breathless.

“Good girl,” he purred, “Here, it is. Your turn. You wanted to be in charge, after all. You want your pleasure? Take it.” He added, looking up at her with those blue eyes so piercing they could drive any woman mad with lust.”

Taking her hand in his, he showed her how to line up the head of his length at her entrance. Removing his hand, he nodded at her.

Rosaline sank down on his length slowly, enjoying the way it filled her from this new angle. She felt him even more deeply this way, she was surprised to discover.

“Mmm, very good. That’s it, my darling,” he hummed in her ear.

Once she had taken him to the hilt, she was forced to stop for a moment, allowing herself to grow accustomed to this new feeling.

As she did so, she ran her hands across his chest, lightly scraping her nails across. He seemed to like that, growling in approval, and his hands similarly explored her body.

“Yes, very good,” he breathed out, his pupils dilated, midnight black.

His hands ran up her waist to cup her breasts, and his eyes greedily dragged across every inch of exposed skin with a ravenousness that made all the shame about her scars melt away.

“You are ravishing,” he said, hips shifting slightly below hers.

She rolled her own hips in response, allowing him to move in and out of her, setting a slow rhythm.

She could see from his face how much he ached for her to move faster. She ached for it, too, but there was a wicked sweetness in making him wait longer, in continuing to push him up to the edge in the same way he pushed her.

He soon caught on to what she was doing. “So you enjoy torturing me too, wife,” he growled, his hands clamping onto her hips, trying to encourage her to move more quickly.

“Perhaps I do,” she said tauntingly, though she did pick up the pace a bit. “Perhaps I enjoy torturing you more than you do me.”

“You wicked girl. Somebody ought to teach you a lesson,” he replied.

Suddenly, she found herself on her back.