Page 10 of Desire and Discipline

Priscilla

She returned home with her husband rather than with his cousin.

Evie had been graciously understanding when Priscilla and Joseph came to the front rooms to inform them they’d make their own way home.

She had glared at Joseph, then told Priscilla she was happy to talk any time, hinting that she would be by the next day for tea.

Which was hardly unusual, but usually, at teatime, Priscilla was the quiet one.

She had no doubt tomorrow would be very different as all the ladies were likely to have a myriad of questions.

The carriage ride was quiet.

Aware of how Joseph shifted uneasily in his seat beside her, the front of his pants was still bulging. There was a part of her that wanted to reassure him, to lean over and give him the relief he clearly wanted, yet another part of her that received joy from watching him stew and wait.

She also could not stop thinking about the scene they’d watched of Lady Greywood and Lord St. Vincent.

It had far exceeded what her own interests were, and Joseph had stated that it had exceeded his as well, but there had been more than a few things that held her attention.

The first, of course, being the fact that no one seemed to change their view of Lord St. Vincent, despite his proclivities, which reassured her that Joseph’s concerns over other’s opinions was more in his own mind than in based in reality.

Not that she was unsympathetic. She had her own fears. Such as being seen as unfeminine and unladylike. However, Lady Greywood was one of the haute ton , one of the so-called dragons of the ton , whose close friends included Lady Jersey and Lady Cowper.

If Lady Greywood could put a man on his knees and have him lick her toes after crushing his sack beneath them, surely no one would blink at Priscilla’s much tamer desires.

At least, no one within the Society of Sin.

Not Joseph’s brothers, his cousin, nor their friends, and they were the only ones who would know.

Considering how fervently Elijah and Evie avoided each other at such gatherings, Priscilla fully expected they would also rather not witness her and Joseph.

“We’re home,” Joseph said suddenly, shifting in the seat beside her. There was an urgency to his tone and a question lying beneath it.

How much longer was she going to make him wait?

Not much, but she did not think he would expect what she had planned for the rest of their evening. Watching Lady Greywood had given her some ideas… and although she was less upset with him than before, she was not ready to lay with him as man and wife.

“Thank you,” she murmured as he helped her out of the carriage. The front of the house was mostly dark. Elijah and Josie were still at Hartford House. If Adam was home, he was in his wing, and it looked as though the Marquess and Diane must be already abed.

“I…” He started to say something, but the words trailed off into the darkness around them. Or perhaps he realized the coachman was still within earshot.

“Let’s go inside.” Priscilla waited for his arm, but she had made the decision. She was still the one in control.

They made their way to their rooms in silence as she continued to muse over exactly what she wanted to do. When Joseph hesitated in front of her door, she shook her head, then paused to open it and dismiss Jane for the evening. Then she allowed Joseph to lead her to his room.

With the door firmly closed behind them, she took a deep breath. Would he still follow her direction here in his own domain?

“I want you unclothed,” she said, trying to keep the firm authority in her tone she’d managed to find at the Society.

Whether or not she’d succeeded, Joseph obeyed with alacrity.

There was a hot light in his eyes as he watched her while he disrobed.

Once he was fully naked, his cock—she’d heard that word used at the Society tonight and decided she liked it—standing straight and proud in front of him, she gestured. “Help me with my gown.”

She had already decided not to undress completely, but she did want to be more comfortable. There was something decidedly powerful about being clothed while he was naked, emphasizing the dichotomy between them, and she liked it.

Letting him undress her down to her chemise, she noticed that his backside no longer bore even the slightest trace of pink marks from his discipline. That was disappointing. She’d wanted to look at them some more. Perhaps even trace her fingers over them.

Maybe Catherine would have some suggestions when they met for tea this week.

“Now what, my Lady?” Joseph asked, drawing her attention back to him. His dark eyes met hers, filled with desire.

“On the bed,” she replied. “On your back.”

He quickly got on the bed, though some curiosity entered his expression when she climbed onto the bed without taking off her chemise. He seemed to have expected she would climb atop him and ride him the way he often liked her to do.

It only now occurred to her that his preference for her to be atop him might be connected to the other desires she’d found out about tonight. She would have to think on that later.

Rather than straddling his hips, she knelt to the side of him and wrapped one hand around his shaft, the other cradling his sack. Joseph tensed when he felt the fingers on the delicate sack, but he relaxed again when she did not crush them the way Lady Greywood had.

“I do like a bit of pain, but not nearly as much as St. Vincent,” Joseph warned her, his voice hoarse as she rolled the balls within his sack between her fingers. His hips lifted, thrusting his cock through her other hand.

“Then it would be a good punishment, would it not?” she asked, squeezing hard enough that he groaned, but he still flexed his hips, moving his cock within her grip.

Joseph

Whether or not Priscilla meant to truly hurt him, he was not sure. She was not squeezing nearly as tightly as she could, and he was so aroused, he could not tell if it was pain or pleasure that shot up his spine.

“Bloody hell…” The curse escaped his lips before he could stop it, coming out on a groan of pained pleasure.

“Hands down.”

His hands dropped to the bed, gripping the sheets. He had not realized he’d raised them until Priscilla’s order.

“My Lady…” He groaned as she stroked his shaft, her thumb rubbing over the sensitive head, his balls rolling between her fingers. When she tugged on his sack, pulling it away from his body, it hurt so good.

She was not moving quickly. She was exploring him, which was a torment all its own as she tugged, stroked, and squeezed, eliciting a myriad of reactions from him with the cascade of sensations.

Joseph clenched, thrusting upward, his whole lower body aching from the need for release, yet it was not forthcoming because she was taking her time.

When he opened his eyes to look at her, she did not meet his gaze. She was too busy studying his cock, watching her hands move on his sensitive flesh. When she squeezed the tip, fluid leaked, and he shuddered, closing his eyes again as he adjusted to the overwhelming sensations.

“Please… my Lady… ride me,” he begged.

“No.” The answer came swiftly and tartly, but he did not have a chance to do more than whimper in disappointment before she began to move the hand on his shaft faster and harder.

Groaning, he thrust upward, his fingers gripping the bedsheets harder, giving her full control of his body, his pleasure, as he careened toward ecstasy.

His climax hit him with force, and he gave a strangled shout, his body bowing as hot fluid spurted and splashed over his stomach. Thick, ropey jets of cum pulsed along with his pleasure, decorating his skin until he was breathless and limp, his cock shrinking against his wife’s palm.

“Bloody hell,” he said again, his voice hoarse.

That had been… wildly erotic. Slightly shaming. And absolutely a punishment despite how pleasurable it had been. He had not wanted to cum in her hand. He’d wanted to cum inside her.

Fascinated, Priscilla stroked her fingers through the seed now cooling on his stomach and lifted her hand to inspect it more closely.

Joseph watched, just as fascinated, as the tip of her pink tongue came out to lick it.

He could not help but chuckle when she made a face.

While he would have liked to finish in her mouth at some point, he was not surprised by her reaction to the flavor.

Catching him watching her, she blushed.

“It is not that bad,” she reassured him hastily. “Just…”

“Not very good either,” he teased, relaxing a little. This was very like them, despite the evening they’d just had. He found comfort in the familiar bantering.

Though there was no denying the new and the strange. Such as being in his bed rather than hers.

“We should clean you up.” Shifting on the bed, her filmy chemise moved with her, giving him hints of the pink nipples beneath it.

She slipped off to fetch a cloth and dampen it in his water basin before returning to wipe his stomach clean of his seed.

Joseph lay there, bemused, uncertain of what his role should be.

Since she seemed intent on being the one to clean him, he did not try to take over from her.

“Now what?” he asked when she was done, leaving his stomach damp. He was not sure where they went from here. In some ways, nothing had changed… in others, everything had.

Priscilla blew out the candles on his nightstand and climbed back into bed with him, yawning. He shifted so they could pull the covers down, then she snuggled into him, the way she often did at the end of a normal night.

“Now we sleep,” she murmured, yawning again.

Turning so he could wrap his arms around her, Joseph held her tightly against him.

Though she was still here, still with him, he could not help the niggle of fear that said she could change her mind.

She could wake up tomorrow and regret everything.

She could talk to her friends and wish she had a husband more like theirs, more commanding, more masculine…

All his life, he’d wanted to be like his big brother, but that had been one path he’d never been able to follow Elijah down.

Feeling her breathing turn slow and steady, Joseph knew that Priscilla had fallen asleep in his arms, as she always did, but they were in his room now. Would she awaken in the middle of the night and slip away as he did to her?

Suddenly, he wished he had never done such a thing. Wondering if she might leave his bed while he slept had no appeal. Was this how she felt every night? Did she ever wish he would stay till the morning?

If he was given the chance again, Joseph silently vowed he would do so.

The one thing he was certain of—that he had always been certain of—was that he did not want to lose his wife.