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That night when Edwin came into the bedroom Eleanor was there, pretending to a calm that she didn’t feel. This was the first time that she would truly be initiating intimacies between them; although of course she had teased and flirted with him often enough and occasionally kissed him since they’d begun their honeymoon, she had never done so in their bedroom. Tonight, however, she knew that she was waving a red flag in front of a bull with her attire.
In the soft flickering light of the fire and the candelabra by their bed her skin almost seemed to glow next to the iridescent sheen of the pink silk.
Edwin strolled in with his usual air of eagerness, his fingers already busily untying his cravat, as he threw a smile full of sinful promise her way. His head turned away for a mere moment before snapping back in a most satisfying manner, arrested by the sight of her standing next to the bed in her new nightrail , her fingers already gently resting on top of it. Frozen, he stared at her, greedily drinking in the sight, committing it to memory.
The eagerness with which he always approached their bedtime was overrun by a burning need to claim, to possess. The trepidation on Eleanor’s beautiful face gave way to thrilled triumph, her body slowly shifting from a rather anxious stance to a sensual languor that only increased his ardor.
“Eleanor…” he rasped, his voice feeling tight in his throat, the air in his lungs burning. “What on earth are you wearing?”
“Do you like it?” she asked, slowly twirling as she lifted up her arms, the silk shifting and sliding over the soft curves of her body. A small smile lifted her lips when she heard her husband groan as he was treated to a spectacular view of the way it hugged her backside.
She let out a squeal as she found herself lifted; Edwin had rushed her from behind, overcome by the need to touch her. Tossed onto the bed, she twisted around to see her husband practically tearing off his clothing in his hurry to join her. Anticipation sparkling in her clear blue eyes, she lounged backwards, enjoying the effect every movement she made had on him. The ever suave former rake was struggling with his clothing, unable to tear his eyes away from her as he continued to disrobe, revealing the hard planes of his body that so many women in Paris desired to see and touch.
And he was hers, all hers.
Practically purring Eleanor got onto her knees and crawled across the mattress towards him. Arrested by the sight, Edwin paused for a moment, his breeches only halfway down his legs as he stared at her.
“You didn’t tell me whether or not you like it,” she murmured, settling on the edge of the bed, her weight on one elbow as she stretched out her legs along the side of the bed.
Finally naked, Edwin reached out and traced his hand down the side of her body, making her catch her breath as her skin heated beneath his touch. Beneath the silk her nipples hardened in anticipation, rubbing against the wonderful fabric.
“You look… I don’t have the words for it,” he said in a husky voice, his eyes following the movement of his hand as it traced its way down to her thigh. “Like temptation. Like innocence. Like half of my fantasies come to life.”
Eleanor pouted at him teasingly, pushing herself up onto one hand. “Only half?”
Something his eyes glinted wickedly. “Would you like to see the other half?”
Curiosity welled as she stared up at her husband, looming over her, magnificent in his nakedness. The musculature of his body was caressed by the dim lighting, he was completely unabashed standing before her, his manhood proudly erect and so hard it practically touched his stomach. Reaching out she caressed the steely length, amazed – as always – by the velvety softness of his skin sheathed over iron. Edwin shuddered and groaned, his head falling back for a moment as her slim fingers wrapped around him.
As much as he wanted to grab her and have his way with her, he was enjoying her new brazenness. He wanted to see how far she would go in her explorations. Although she’d touched him before, had taken his cock in her hand, it had almost always been at his behest and encouragement. She had certainly never blatantly displayed herself the way she was now – she’d never needed to. Edwin needed nothing more than to think of having his wife and his blood would begin to pound. This new side of her that she was showing deserved to be encouraged, to be developed, so he didn’t want to rush past it.
Although, if she did want to indulge in his fantasies then he would be taking control away from her immediately anyway, but he wanted it to be her decision.
Sliding her hand up and down Edwin’s length a few times, pumping him in her tight grip, Eleanor was entranced by her husband’s reactions. His jaw clenched, his fists clenched, as if every part of him was holding back. The power she had over him in this moment was enthralling.
But she wanted to know her husband’s fantasies, and she knew that she couldn’t possibly match him for expertise in sensual matters. While she hated to think of how that knowledge had been gained, hated to think of him doing this with any other woman, she comforted herself with his apparent singular interest in her bed. If she knew his fantasies, if she learned from him all that he knew, then she could keep him from straying. And if he did, then she could use her knowledge to repay him in kind, with any lover of her choice. But she didn’t consider that an option for now, what she desired were ways to tie Edwin to herself.
She’d already come to terms with the knowledge that she wouldn’t have quite the marriage she wanted; as much as Edwin desired her, he never spoke in words of love or treated her the way she’d imagined her husband would, but it was obvious that he desired her and that she could gain much of what she’d originally wanted from a besotted husband through a husband that desired her. It seemed to her that the more she could please him in this arena, the happier her marriage would be.
Some small part of her in the back of her mind seemed to say that she was making excuses, thinking of convoluted reasons to hide her desire to please Edwin, but she ignored that. Trying to please her husband didn’t mean that she would end up like her mother, after all, Edwin was obviously trying to please her as well and he was doing a very good job of it. It was only natural that she reciprocate.
“Show me,” she said, cutting off any further chance for thought, wanting to sink into the delightful physicality of their passion, knowing that doing so would make further introspection impossible.
Edwin opened his eyes again, their dark depths smoldering with a fire that she was becoming very familiar with. He reached for her…
Less than thirty seconds later Eleanor found herself in a very familiar and very unwelcome positio
n.
“Edwin!” she protested as she struggled to get up from her position over his lap, his forearm easily holding her in place.
“Relax sweetheart, this is for pleasure, not for punishment.”
“Whose pleasure?” she asked sarcastically, although she had to admit to herself that the way his hand was caressing her bottom through the silk nightgown did in fact feel quite nice.
“Not all spankings have to be unpleasant,” he said, and his hand came down sharply on her bottom.
