A Regency Domination Pt. 03 - Option B

A/N- This chapter picks up right where A Regency Domination Pt 2 left off and will not make sense without having read that first. This is Rawls' and Millicent's story and is the more fitting ending for lovers of romance.

***

The past week had blazed by in a blur. After she had hesitantly accepted Mr Rawls' proposal, Lord Applefield had banished his son to his most distant estate, and then written to her uncle, while Sir Phillip was dispatched to procure a special license so they could be married quickly.

Her family had descended upon Harfold in confusion and (in her cousin Minerva's case) excitement. She did not know how much Lord Applefield had shared with them upon their arrival, but it was enough to send Aunt Poppy scurrying back to London with a reluctant Minerva in tow. Her uncle had stayed until the wedding, stoically handing her over before departing hastily as well.

She knew he had been pained by what happened, but she had not expected to be so hurt by his belief that she had equally been to blame, that she had somehow... invited George's cruel advances.

Maybe I did, she thought. Maybe I am a wicked woman like my mother who seduced her better and then took advantage of a kind offer by a gentleman who took pity on me.

She looked at Mr Rawls, seated across her in the Applefields' carriage. The entire journey back to his - and now her, too - home, he had studiously avoided her gaze, even though she knew he was cognisant of her every move.

Alone together, for the first time, and she had no notion of what to say to her husband.

In that moment, as if aware her eyes were upon him, he looked at her, letting her see the raw hunger on his face.

Just like George.

The walls started to close in on her again and her chest tightened. She opened and closed her mouth but somehow could not breathe. She started to shake. It was happening again. And this time, she would surely die, away from all her loved ones, trapped in a cramped space with this stranger.

And then his hand reached out to cover hers, the warmth seeping through her and pushing away the darkness that threatened to engulf her.

His expression brimming with kindness and sympathy, he murmured, "Regardless of what barriers confront you, it is in your power to free yourself; you have only to want to."

The unexpected Olympe de Gouges' quote gave her pause. The air rushed back into her lungs as she peered at him quizzically.

"I know you are a huge fan of Mrs Wollstonecraft, but I believe The Declaration of the Rights of Woman and of the Female Citizen to be a very illuminating read," he offered, with a tender smile.

In spite of herself, her own lips quirked upwards. "If you had told me sooner, I would have asked the priest to include her marriage contract in our vows."

"Of course you would have." He twinkled at her approvingly. "I am glad my faith in you was not misplaced."

His disarmingly playful expression lit up dark corners of her heart that she did not know existed. Being here with him made her feel like she was safe and protected, like she could finally let her guard down.

Giving in, she yawned widely, before clamping her mouth shut in horror.

He started to chuckle wryly at her expression. "Couldn't sleep last night?"

She looked at him ruefully. "All week, in fact, but that does not excuse my behaviour. Please accept my apologies, Mr Rawls."

"James," he said earnestly. "I am your husband. Surely you can use my Christian name, Millie. I may call you Millie, may I not?"

She blushed again and nodded.

He sat back, satisfied. "It will be hours before we reach the parish. I think it best that you catch up on some sleep."

"But what will you do?" she asked blankly.

He pulled out some papers from his pocket. "Go over my notes for the next sermon, I suppose. They are still not quite polished."

"Will you read them out loud?" she blurted without thinking. "I find them to be the best sleeping aid."

The look of dismay on his face made her giggle.

"Need I remind you that you are the wife of a parson, Mrs Rawls?"

She sighed, feeling light-hearted after ages. "You can just apologise to the Lord for me every time I act with impiety."

He shook his head and laughed, a deep, rumbling sound emerging from his chest and warming her. And then he cleared his throat and affected a look of sombreness. "In that case, let us begin..."

Smiling, she closed her eyes, allowing his soothing words to wash over her, and drifted to sleep.

***

It was a strange thing, being married, James thought, as he beheld his new wife in the unmoving carriage. The woman in front of him was the oddest mixture of sweet and impertinent. After thoroughly charming him with her artless smiles, she now slept with her mouth slightly open, a bit of drool pooling at the corner of her lips.

Gently, he removed his handkerchief and wiped it, only for her to awaken with a start.

He allowed his hand to cradle her cheek. "It is okay," he whispered, "you are safe."

And then he felt the damnedest urge to kiss her until she was dizzy. It had been hard to hide his desire for her the entire day and he must have slipped, for her own eyes widened in response to his heated gaze.

"Are we here?" she said hurriedly, in a misguided attempt to distract him.

He took a long, deep breath. They would be alone. Soon. And he would no longer have to restrain himself. "Yes, the footmen must have unloaded our luggage and placed it in the house by now."

She nodded. "Did you finish your sermon?"

Before he could answer, the head footman rapped on the carriage door.

"All done, Guv'!" he said cheerfully, pulling out the stairs.

James jumped down and assisted his bride out after him, trying to not react to her scent of peppermint and rosemary. Soon. A few more minutes, and they would be alone. He had hoped to allow her a few days to adjust to married life before he took her, but those honourable thoughts had fled his brain, along with the blood that was now rushing to his cock and making it throb with need.

Noticing her shiver beside him, he hurriedly handed a generous sum to the men and pointed them in the direction of the village inn, before scooping her up in his arms, ignoring her protests. He carried her across the threshold, holding her small body close to him. He had paid the housekeeper extra to have the home ready for his genteel bride, but as her honey brown eyes took it all in, he suddenly felt like it was lacking. Like he was lacking.

"I have some savings," he said. "We can spruce up the place according to your tastes."

Her brows knitted. "You need not bother with these things for me."

"Millie," he spoke through ragged breaths, "I would do anything for you. I just want you to be happy."

Of his own accord, his lips moved to kiss hers, but she turned her face and buried it in his chest. "I - I am not ready yet..."

Clenching his jaw, he gently put her down, before grabbing her chin and compelling her to look at him.

"But I cannot wait, Millie. I have wanted you for so long. Please, just one kiss."

Reluctantly, she turned her face up so he could kiss her, and then gasped and parted her lips when he nibbled on them gently.

As his tongue probed her mouth, he felt his entire body harden, muscles tensing as he fought every urge to take her there and then.

With his hand on the small of her back, he guided her until she was pressed against the wall.

His teeth nipped at the delicate skin of her throat, and he felt her pulse become erratic. "I must have you, Millie," he pleaded, even though he wanted very much to just take her roughly, and the effort of holding himself back was making him ache. "I burn so desperately for you."

"I understand." She nodded determinedly, face shuttering as she contemplated her marital duty to him. "But can we please wait till tomorrow?"

"No," he bit out, harsher than either of them expected.

As she jumped, he kissed and nibbled the hollow of her collarbone, one hand unravelling her lustrous hair, the other snaking its way through the flouncy material of her dress, until he found her hot quim.

His finger swiped at her slit, making her gasp again. He pulled it out and held up the evidence of her arousal. Ensuring her eyes were on him, he pushed it inside her mouth.

"Suck," he said. "Feel how wet you are for me."

Her tongue automatically flicked across his finger as she sucked obediently, and he drew in a ragged breath. She was good at following orders, his little Millie.

He kissed her again, tasting her arousal as her tongue entangled with his. She was driving him mad, and he needed her. But there was something he needed to tell her first.

"Millie, I - I have never lain with a woman before. I do not wish to hurt you, but I do not know if I will be able to control myself."

Guilt and shame flashed in her eyes. "I - you will not be my first-"

He cut her off with a fierce kiss, before pulling back to glare at her. "I do not care about your past. I only care that I will be your last, and you, mine."

She did not make a sound, and her expression was unrecognisable. Suddenly, he feared that she would wish to go back to that scoundrel who had raped and abused her. That he would not be adventurous or experienced enough to please her.

"I will be everything to you, Millie," he said, eyes blazing, "and I will force you to scream my name until you forget his."

Before she could protest, he captured her lips in his, wanting to suddenly devour her and mark her as his.

After a brief beat, she began to kiss him back with gentle passion.

He wished so terribly to take her against the wall, but she was too small. With a grunt, he drew her into the parlour, freeing himself from the tight restraints of his trousers and kicking them off as they stumbled towards the nearest sofa.

He grabbed her hand and curled it around his cock, urging her to stroke him as they fell upon the sofa together. His heated gaze met hers, and he sensed the same raw need emanating from her that was coursing through his body.

And suddenly, he was on his back, and she was atop him, her sex bearing down upon his. She was so tight around him that it physically hurt, but it did nothing to dim the desire thrumming in his veins. He thrust upwards to meet her, pushing hard into her.

His hands began to pull insistently at her bodice, until it gave way with a slight rip. He pulled out one creamy breast and stared at it in wonder. Her skin was so soft and delicate that all he wanted to do was mark her everywhere.

His finger touched her nipple and flicked it, making her pause her bouncing on his cock.

"No," he growled, "keep going. You feel so good around me, Millie."

Blushing, she rotated her hips, making the pressure in his balls unbearable.

He swelled with need, and then released himself inside her.

Frustrated with his inexperience, he flipped her over so that she was on the bottom.

"James," she panted, "it's all right, I-"

"No," he growled angrily. "You will come for me, Millie."

He kissed her roughly, biting her hard until she moaned, before licking away the soreness. He proceeded to bite, caress, and tease a trail down her body, making her squirm with the sensation.

Finally, he reached her heated quim. He licked her thoroughly, then blew cool air on her sensitive and wet skin. As his mouth enclosed over her nub and he began to lick and suckle on it, he inserted a finger in her cunt.

"James," she panted, "I am so close!"

His other finger pushed inside her arse, and the shock and sensations combined pushed her over the edge. His mouth did not leave her nub even as she screamed and bucked against him, crying his name over and over again.

His cock was hard again, and he wanted nothing more than to ravage her, properly this time.

He pumped into her core, and, with a grunt, began to fuck her.

He took her breasts in his mouth, nibbling and sucking first one, then the other. His nails dug into her waist as she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in deeper.

Her fingers tangled in his hair and tugged hard.

"Choke me," she said.

He stared at her and, seeing nothing but resolve, wrapped his hand around her throat.

"Harder," she begged.

Is this how that scoundrel had fucked her? Thoughts of the man who had known her so intimately enraged him and he squeezed tightly, his movements becoming erratic as she choked in his grip.

Just as her eyes started to lose focus, he stopped, leaned down, took her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged roughly.

Around him, her tight quim started to clench again and her eyes started to roll back.

Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he began to fuck her faster and harder.

Even as she started to beg him to stop because she was too sensitive, he kept going, wanting nothing more than to destroy her insides until all she could think about was him.

Her head hit the armrest and her breasts shook with every powerful thrust. Her back arched as he bit her nipples again.

She was starting to weep from the sensation and kept repeating his name over and over, until finally, with a wave of ecstasy, he released himself inside her and collapsed.

In that moment, there was no one else in the world but her. She was his centre, his purpose.

With a jagged breath, he finally spoke into her ear. "You are mine now, Millie."

She nodded, eyes downcast, and he felt the urge to clarify. "I will not force you to do anything you want, but I will make sure you fall desperately in love with me. Every day, I will earn your respect and affection. And every night, I will make you scream my name."

He tilted her chin so that she could look into his raging eyes and know he meant every word, only to see that her own were misty.

Suddenly realising how rough he had been with her, he pulled back in alarm. "Millie, what happened? Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, sniffled, and smiled. "I'm just... happy, I think."

A heavy weight lifted off his chest and he gazed at her reverently. "Good, because I am happy, too."

***

My Dearest Vivian

You know I think the world of you, but will you please stop calling my cousin the Hyde Park Hoyden? Aunt Poppy has written to me several times already, threatening to send Minerva to our care, but I am afraid that after prolonged exposure to my husband, she will turn into a bluestocking as well as a hoyden, and then I would truly never hear the end of it!

As I write this letter, James is asking if you and Phillip managed to catch the meteor shower last night. I declare he is more whimsical than a schoolroom miss, for he roused me from my warm bed last night and carried me to watch the stars shoot through the sky. But as their bright streaks lit up the sky and he pulled me into a melting kiss, I realised that I would not have it any other way. I will update you fully on the goings on in our little village later, for he is now imploring me to join him on an impromptu picnic and promising to serenade me most wickedly.

Yours lovingly,

M.