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I can’t remember wanting a woman so much in a very long time. And there had been a certain pleasure in drawing it out, in denying myself what I can have so easily from anyone else. In making myself wait, as well as her.
I’d felt her desire. It had felt like a living thing, in the air between us, building with the hours that had passed without me touching her in the way that I’m sure she had expected I would. I’d known she wanted me, then. I’d been curious to find out what would happen if I kissed her.
I almost hadn’t, in the garden. I hadn’t been sure that I wouldn’t try to take her upstairs if I did, the house that she lived in all but alone so close. I was surprised that Nikolai let her live there alone, with just security and staff—that he didn’t keep her close by at his new estate. I might have asked her about it, if I hadn’t been so distracted.
The contract couldn’t be reneged upon, and there was nothing in it specifically stating that I had to wait until the wedding night to claim my bride—but more than anything else, I hadn’t wanted to risk Marika’s regret. Even if I’d taken her virginity tonight, and Nikolai had been angry, there likely wouldn’t have been any recourse for him that didn’t end in a war between our families after all—and his sister ruined. But what had stopped me was the idea thatshemight have been upset that we hadn’t waited, after.
I couldn’t keep myself from kissing her, though. The lure of finding out if she would kiss me back again had been too great. And she had.
It makes me wonder how our wedding night will go. I’d braced myself for cold apathy or, worse still, tears and resistance, but I hadn’t expected desire on her part. At best, I’d allowed myself to hope that she would tolerate it, and I’d hoped that whatever she felt, she wouldn’t pretend. I’m not sure I could bear a wife who moaned faux pleasure into my ear, for the sake of hoping I would reward her for it.
But Marika’s desire in that kiss had been real.
I settle back against the pillows of my bed, glass of whiskey still in hand as I rub one hand over the front of my trousers, my shirt fallen open. The lure of imagining Marika in my bed is too great—picturing her opening my shirt with her small, delicate fingers, kissing her way down my chest until her hands reach the buckle of my belt. I thumb it open myself, imagining that it’s her hands there, drawing down my zipper and slipping her hand inside to touch the rigid length of my cock through my boxers.
What will she be like on our wedding night? Hesitant and unsure? Eager?From the way she kissed me in the garden, it’s hard to know. A part of me likes the idea of teaching her, of her coming to my bed entirely unknowing, showing her every part of what it’s like to experience pleasure in bed. The idea of those wide blue eyes looking up at me as she touches my cock, wondering what to do, how to please me, makes me throb and twitch in a way that feels wholly unexpected.
God, I can’t wait to teach her how to suck my cock.Just the thought has me rock-hard, my hand reaching to slip myself free of my boxers, wrapping my hand around the pulsing shaft. The thought of her lips, pink and bow-shaped, pressed against the tip as she licks up my pre-cum, tasting it for the first time in her life, has me on the edge far too quickly.
I’ll have to have better control of myself if I’m going to pleaseher.
That thought only inflames my desire, the idea of spreading her thighs wide, showing her for the first time what it feels like to have a tongue strokehermost intimate places, finding exactly where she likes to be touched, licked, the pressure and rhythms that will make her moan and beg and plead for me to make her come.
I’ve always enjoyed eating pussy. And I’ll enjoy teaching Marika what it’s like to have hers eaten until she comes again and again.
My hand flexes around my cock, sliding up and down in slow strokes, my imagination altering between images of her lips naively sliding along my shaft, tongue teasing the veins and exploring the new territory I’ve given her, and imaginings of her soft and pink and spread open for me, her delicate body squirming beneath my hands as I teach her all the ways that pleasure can be received as well as given.
Mine. Mine to teach, and pleasure, and possess.
The thought startles me. I’ve never been a possessive man, when it comes to women. I’ve never met one who made me feel that way. I never found myself caring where the women in my bed went after I’d finished a night with them, or to whom. I expected they had a string of numbers in their phones to call on a lonely night, same as I did, and if I hoped with a few that I might be at the top of the list, I never cared enough to ask.
But Marika—
One night spent with her, and I already find myself thinking of her asmine. Which, of course, she is—in the most technical sense. The betrothal contract is signed, the wedding date is set, and there’s no going back on it. Marikawillbe my wife—but I find I want more than that.
I find myself wanting to make her mine in every sense of the word. To have not only her body, but her affection, her loyalty, hersoul. To have her give herself over to me not because a contract demands it, but because she wants to—because she simply can’t help herself.
It’s a foolish, romantic notion. But it’s what fills my head as I lean back against my pillows, setting my glass aside and giving myself over to the sensation of my hand stroking my cock as I imagine all the ways I might pleasure my new bride—what she might do to me.
It’s not nearly enough. I want her mouth, the tight heat of her body, and the slick, grasping stroke of my hand isn’t enough to replicate that pleasure. But it’s enough to make me come, and as I picture Marika’s full, soft lips sliding to the base of my cock, her damp blue eyes looking at me as she takes me down her throat for the first time, I erupt with a groan that shudders all the way down to my toes as my hot cum spills over my hand.
“Fuck—” I groan, my hand spasming around my cock, squeezing pulse after pulse of cum out of my aching shaft as I imagine it going down her throat, over her tongue, spilling out between her lips when she can’t quite swallow it all. It’s not nearly as pleasurable as the real thing would be. However, the fantasy still makes it better than any other time I’ve jerked off in recent memory.
I lay there for a long moment as the haze of lust clears, my softening cock still in my fist and cum cooling over my skin. I look down, feeling a sort of tired irony at the whole thing—any other night, I would have had a woman here in bed with me instead of fucking my own hand like a teenager. But tonight, I only wanted Marika.
Once we say our vows, itwillonly be her. I have no intention of being an unfaithful husband. And I hope that we’ll both enjoy each other enough that it won’t be a hardship.
Right now, as far as I’m concerned, our wedding night can’t come fast enough.
Marika
The morning of our wedding is dreary and drizzling, which seems fitting for my mood. “It’s bad luck for it to rain on your wedding day, right?” I ask Lilliana as she gets my dress out of the closet, and she gives me a small, tight smile.
“Just an old superstition,” she tells me reassuringly, but I see her glance out of the window, too, at the thickening drizzle and fog hanging over the mansion grounds.
She sits down at my vanity, reaching for a piece of fruit from the breakfast tray that was brought up. The ceremony is at one, and I’ve already slept until ten, which doesn’t give us all that much time to get ready, considering. “I miss mimosas,” she says with a laugh, as she makes one and pushes it towards me. “I haven’t really minded being pregnant, but I can’t wait to have a drink again once this baby gets here.”
I manage a small smile, but the mention of a baby gets my stomach twisting to the point that I can’t muscle down any of the food. I’m on the birth control Nikolai insisted on my arranging, for long enough now that there shouldn’t be any issues with it—but I know well enough that there’s always a chance that it fails. And if Theo gets me pregnant—
