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Stepping away, he gestured to the mirror. “Do you see now?”
Seeing her reflection, Mary gasped.
Now, she realized what Rathe meant.
When he said it wouldn’t fit, he had been referring to the size of her breasts. And he was right, the bikini a too-tight fit, the V part of the heart-shaped cups completely exposing her nipples.
“Oh.” She looked at him in apology. “I’m sorry I m-misunder—-” She stopped speaking, finally noticing the way Rathe’s blue eyes had darkened with desire.
Oh, no.
No, no, no.
Where was theoldDuke of Flanders when she needed him?
“Rathe, we’re in the fitting room—-” She looked around for a way to escape but there was none, the fitting room too cramped.
Mary yelped when Rathe’s arms suddenly shot out, imprisoning her between his body and the door. “I want you.”
Oh. God. British. Accent. She. Dead.
“Rathe, no.” But her voice was shaking, her body stirring into life at the way his accent had become so thick.
“Your choice—-”
She said pleadingly, “Rathe, the camera crew’s waiting outside—-”
“The door or the mirror?” he finished, as if she hadn’t spoken at all.
“Rathe—-” She ended up gasping as the duke palmed her breasts.
“Choose. Do you want me to fuck you against the door or the mirror?” The walls were not to be considered, since both had hooks that could hurt his wife.
TheF-wordclinched it, her husband’s dirty talk never failing to make her do whatever he wished.
“Just promise me we w-we’ll keep it down?”
“I’m never the one who’s noisy.”
“Sod.”
“Choose.”
She stammered, “M-mirror?” The further away from the camera crew, the better.
Rathe frowned. “No,” he decided. “It’s too dangerous. It might break if I fuck you too hard.”
This time, she no longer had the strength to argue.It was all because he had said the F-word a second time, Mary thought with a shiver. It had her soaking wet between her legs and when Rathe pulled her forward, she followed him eagerly, her mouth opening under his while she helped him release his engorged cock.
And then he had her up in his arms, her back against the door, and his cock was sliding into her.
His thrusts were slow and steady, his lips tenderly brushing against hers just before they moved down and he began to lick her nipples, lapping it up in silence.
It was beautiful, but it was not enough.
Sensing his duchess’ restlessness and knowing the cause behind it, Rathe smirked. Lifting his head, he said, “Your choice.” He thrust his cock back into her even more slowly this time. “Quiet...or not quiet?”
Mary glared at him. “You’re d-doing this deliberately.”
