tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Devil's Bargain Ch. 02

The Devil's Bargain Ch. 02

bywishfulthinking©

Thomasyn paid little heed to the creasing of her lavender silk gown as she sat curled up barefoot on the soft cushions of the bay window in her chamber, an open book resting face down on her lap. An untouched tray of refreshments sat nearby on its waiting stand.

Large blue-grey eyes gazed unseeingly on the lush walled garden nestled below. Creeping vines framed lavishly sculpted shrubs amongst their beds of blooming colour. Dusk had settled its firm but gentle hand over the rolling green hills.

Her stomach had grievously churned most of the morning, but seemed to be coming aright. A glance earlier in the mirror had told her enough. There was nothing for the deathly paleness of her smooth ivory skin and pale shadows beneath her eyes. The thick tumble of her silvery blonde locks were caught back in a simple knot with thin braids here and there. Wispy tendrils escaped their pins, lending to her fragile appearance.

Voices and footsteps intruded on her silent prayers to end her torment, and not just that of the after effects on imbibing strong wine, but also all evidence of her unwanted husband.

She heard the maid's cry "she is not receiving visitors" just as the door to her chamber banged open. Thomasyn refused to acknowledge him. For it could only be one man that possessed the arrogance to dare to enter her chamber uninvited. Her young body, still tender from his possession that morning, stiffened instinctively at his unwanted presence.

"Thommi," he declared smoothly, and the sound of the door's tumble lock turning reached her ears. Her belly clenched at the knowledge she was alone with him in her bedroom. "Perhaps you had best instruct your maid of the difference between a visitor and a husband."

"Leave me," she finally murmured, closing the unread book and placing it beside her on the cushions. Still she did not, could not, look at him. She knew too well the effect of his broad shouldered masculinity on her body's base responses.

"Ah, but it is I that issue demands, sweet Thommi. And I find I want you beneath me on that virginal bed." Thomasyn did not have to glance over her shoulder to summon the image of her bed with its palest pink silk covers, rose cushions and endless lacy fripperies and flounces. Four posts rose at each corner, holding the silk canopy aloft over the bed. She ground her teeth, disturbed by the tingles in her secret place.

"Surely there is a willing serving wench to see to your wicked desires."

The surprisingly gentle fingers brushing the nape of her neck was the only warning she had of his proximity. She breathed in deep in an attempt to still her body's awakening. Only to discover her mistake when the scent of him, raw and powerful, dug deep.

"But what need I of a willing wench when I have a young wife to spread her sweet thighs?" he murmured against her ear as his fingers traced the curve of her sweetheart neckline where it hugged the swell of her breasts.

"It has been but half a day or so since you took your husbandly due. Surely you seek to tempt His wrath with your uncommon haste to repeat such wickedness."

"There is no wickedness in beddings between husband and wife, dear Thommi."

Thomasyn's lashes fluttered close as he began to unfasten the row of hooks that ran to the small of her back. She fought him with words, because it would not do for a wife to refuse her husband. But she knew even in this it was futile against his determination to punish her for what he imagined was her wrongdoing in trapping him in marriage. He did not believe her, and she would not plead with him to do so.

If she offered no challenge, perhaps then he would lose interest in bedding her. But how much would she have to sacrifice of herself until he tired of his torment of her?

Warm lips pressed against the side of her neck as skilful fingers drew the cap sleeves of her gown down to her elbows. A shiver raced through her, and he laughed softly. If only he were rough, or forceful, she thought she could bear his touch so much easier. Instead, he seemed determined to take command of her body, showing her the unimagined heights of delight of being in a man's arms and drawing a betraying eagerness from her unwilling body.

Her hopes of obtaining an annulment with her father's consent had been dismally cast aside. Thomasyn had sought her father out that morning only to discover him gone, and so too his beautiful and snobby hanger-ons. Without her father, any possibility of untangling the wicked deceit that contaminated her marriage had also been lost.

How she ever imagined Wilham to be one of them, with naught on their minds but self-serving pleasures, would always be her err. She should have run far and fast when she first spied him walking toward her on the terrace. Instead, she had found herself tricked, as he had, into forming a binding union. Only Wilham laid the blame at her feet, and was intent on exacting every ounce of punishment in his determination to exact revenge.

The weight and warmth of him settled on the seat behind her, his fingers sliding beneath her gaping gown, circling her tiny waist and then up to cup her small breasts through the wispy chemise.

"It pleases me that you don't follow fashion's dictates and wear corsets. I would have nothing that alters the shape of your delightful body, ripe for a man's pleasure."

Warm lips pressed against her shoulder as his fingers teased the budding pink nipples into tight crowns. Thomasyn struggled and easily lost in her attempt to erect defences against the feelings wrought by his foreign touch. He pinched and rolled the peaks with exquisite torment, a torment that was matched between her restless thighs. Her lips parted on a soft sigh, her head tipping back against his shoulder.

"W-Wilham..." she breathed, hating him with an intensity that shocked her. That he intended bedding her was neither here or there as he was her husband and it was her duty. But never had she experienced anything that felt less like a duty. He had told her he would have her as he pleased, and it was for Thomasyn to decide whether she enjoyed him or not. She wanted the not, but heaven help her, her body was intent upon betrayal. "I-I don't want this."

In the scheme of things, it wasn't a complete untruth. She still felt shaken from his virile bedding that morning, and the thought of succumbing so easily again was unpleasant. Her body was intoxicated with his teasing caresses, demanding more of this intriguing play. Having never so much as been kissed before this devilish scoundrel, her body seemed to welcome all hitherto denied attention. Or so Thomasyn was convinced, for no other reasonable, logical explanation presented itself.

"Less than a day and my wife is pleading not to share her bed?" He mused. His fingers caught her chin, turning her face up to his. Green eyes gazed silently down at her for what seemed to an age. Their knowing depths sunk into her, intense and lacking the cold cruelness she had witnessed at moments.

His head lowered, his lips capturing hers. Her chest rose jerkily at the sensual touch, her anger toward him wavering as stronger emotions threatened to consume her.

She rested against him in the circle of his arms, trembling against the strength of his chest, her lips parting beneath his coaxing mouth on hers. She watched him from beneath lowered lashes, excitement and awe overwhelming her. The strong, tanned planes of his face were a fascinating mixture of determination, fierceness and what she guessed must be lust. A shiver raced through that had nothing to do with the cold. This complex man's desire for her body did strange things to her insides.

A hand tangled in the thin ribbons of her chemise, drawing them easily apart to bare her breasts to the cool air. Tanned fingers lightly traced her breasts, almost reverently.

She twisted her head away, breaking from his intoxicating kisses, her breathing uneven. "What are you about, Wilham?" What game did he play with her, awakening her body to desire his when he could simply lift her skirts and take what he wanted.

"I have clearly been remiss in my husbandly duties if you do not know the answer to your own question, sweet Thommi."

As if to emphasis his point, he rose, gathering her body close as he lifted her. He gently stood her on her feet before the bed, his heated eyes sweeping slowing over her before returning to rest on her expressive face.

Thommi squirmed slightly, even as she fought to pretend indifference. She wondered what he saw, with her dishevelled gown, the uneven rise and fall of her breasts, the swollen lips and tangled pale hair. Her fists curled into the silk of her skirts to stop from reaching out and drawing him to her.

"Is it your intention to come and go as you please, scratching an itch when the need arises?" Desperation laced her words in her attempt to place distance between them. For she knew she would be easily consumed by the fire that rose easily between them.

"It is my intention that we both come."

Thomasyn swallowed hard at the devilry twinkling in those deep green eyes, her brain unable to process a retort. Her eyes followed his movements as he dragged his shirt over his head.

He sat on the bed before her and reached for her hips, drawing her to stand between his spread thighs. Her arms rose to cross over her breasts, unsure what he was about. And watched silently, heart racing, as with an easy assuredness he slowly stripped her. The lavender gown was tugged down to pool at her feet, followed by her chemise, undergarments, and slippers like she was a puzzle to be solved. His hands were gentle on her body as he moved her and placed her limbs exactly as needed to overcome the army of ribbons, buttons, hooks and ties until he had removed every last impediment to his bedding her.

He caught one small hand, turning and kissing its palm, before doing the same to its mate. He then drew her arms to her side, baring her fully to him. He did not release her wrists.

His green eyes flared, sweeping over her petite body. "If I had my way, I would have you unclothed whenever we are alone."

"Another of your schemes to humiliate me?" she whispered, surprised at how hurt she felt by his husky declaration.

"If it were, it would be I that was humiliated. I am as randy as a boy with his first doxy around you, unable to keep my hands to myself."

Thomyson blinked, unsure whether that was a compliment or not. As if sensing her uncertainty, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against the valley between her quivering breasts.

"You are exquisite, Thommi. It pleases me greatly to look upon you. All sweet, delightful curves and lush, velvety skin." His thumbs brushed her tight nipples, causing her to shiver. "And so responsive."

Wilham tugged on her hands, drawing her forward and guiding her trembling arms about his shoulders. Then his hands caught her face, drawing hers to his, his teeth sinking into her bottom lip. His kiss was possessive and demanding, stirring her down to her toes.

Large hands stroked the flesh of her back, bottom and thighs. An antsy feeling arose where the moisture gathered between her thighs.

Without warning, his hands circled her tiny waist and he dragged her down, tumbling her onto her back on the bed. He gazed down at her flushed face and delightful curves spread before him.

"I fantasied about you in this bed, all sweet and innocent and giving as you opened yourself to me and me alone." She blushed as he stood and yanked at the ties of his breeches and shoved them down over his muscular thighs lightly dusted with black curls. She was awed at the hardness of him standing out from the juncture of his thighs, and an answering warmth echoed between her thighs. Her fingers curled, shyness and uncertainty preventing her from touching him.

When he had kicked free of his breeches and boots he put one knee on the bed between her thighs, leaning over her to capture her wrists and pin them above her head. She moaned as he caught a budding nipple in his mouth, arching beneath him.

A hand slipped between her slightly parted thighs, stroking her with a featherlike touch that did nothing to abate the growing need building there.

"So wanton," he groaned against her flesh at the feel of her eagerness coating his hand. He lay down beside her on the bed, drawing her to him.

Somehow, unexpectedly, she found herself lying on top of him, every naked inch of him impressing itself on her flesh. Hands slid down to grip her bottom, moulding and massaging the soft flesh. She wiggled and writhed on him as they kissed, the hard strength of him pressing against her belly. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, a silent messenger of her urgency.

She squeaked in shock when a hand slid down the damp cleft, a finger easing inside her. A large hand on the small of her back held her firm as he explored her dewy heat, stroking and massaging her there. A thumb teased the throbbing bud nestled in flushed folds.

She felt hot and eager for everything he did to her body, the opposite of what she promised herself she would be when, if, she saw him again.

"Straddle me. Higher," he guided with his hands, until she was shockingly close to his handsome face. She covered the thatch of curls, shy that he would see her this way. He smiled wickedly as he gently peeled her fingers away to reveal her mound to his heated gaze. "You'll not deny me your sweet treasure," he murmured, his hands settling over the tops of her thighs.

Thomasyn sucked in her breath, not quite sure what to expect from this unexpected position. When he licked and nipped at her dewy flesh, a shivery moan escaped her. His fingers tightened on her thighs, holding her still as explored her with his warm mouth.

"Unpin your hair," he commanded, his breathe stirring her curls. When his mouth stopped his exquisite torture her sluggish mind began to comprehend. She reached up, feeling for the pins, and shivered when his mouth found her glistening nub in reward. One by one she pulled the pins free and tossed them on the floor as he sucked and flicked at her throbbing flesh. When the braids uncoiled and tumbled down her back, she found the ends and dragged her fingers to loosen the plaits. It was an arduous task, her hands all thumbs, and she simply gave up, overwhelmed by what was happening between her thighs.

The silvery blonde mane spilled down over her shoulders like a curtain falling around the intimacy they shared. He caught her fluttering hand and drew it behind her, down over his body. He wrapped her fingers around his hardness, guiding them up and down the imposing length of him. He groaned against her, his hips flexing.

He was not immune to the intensity of need that bludgeoned her resistance and dislike of her new husband. But that had nothing to do with the knowledge surging through her of the effect she had on Wilham, knowing that she could give him pleasure. She gripped him, her fingers firm about the velvety steel. Curiously, at its tip beaded moisture.

When he shifted beneath her, guiding her leg over him, he came up behind her, pressing her hands to a bed post at the end of the bed. His mouth feathered down along her neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent of her.

A hand cupped her breast, slid down possessively over her belly. "Are you ready for me?" he murmured. Thomasyn whimpered, pushing her bottom back against him. Rubbing against his throbbing fullness, her body wept.

"Tell me what it is you want." His hand cupped her between her thighs, feeling her wetness. He eased himself along her cleft, a slow, torturous glide that made her cry out. Her melting warmth clenched in anticipation of him filling her, stretching her as their bodies merged. She ached from his earlier possession, but that seemed to have little bearing on the need to have him there again.

He pinched her lips. A soft moan escaped her.

"Tell me," he commanded against her ear. Her body clenched.

"Inside me. I want...all of you." She had difficulty forming coherent words.

He groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips as he probed her entrance. A whimper escaped her.

"Put me inside you," he commanded her. She gazed down, at first not knowing what to do. Reaching between her thighs, she found him waiting, the sensual threat of him clear. She moved him against her body with her trembling hand. "That's it," he encouraged her.

He pushed against her body's natural resistance, sliding up inside her, forcing her tight walls to yield as he stormed her body's defences.

"I can't..." the words escaped her, the meaning full of nothing and everything.

"Take all of me," he urged, never halting in his slow glide into her melting warmth. Thomasyn moaned, her hair tumbling about her as she shook her head from the intensity of it all. Wanting more, she pressed back down on him until he was lodged deep. "That's it, my sweet one."

Their slick bodies rested against each other, their breathing laboured. Soft kisses rained down her neck and shoulder. A hand returned between her thighs, stroking her gently. The tension in her body eased, the soreness of his possession soon overborne.

"Are you ready for me?"

Thomasyn gazed back at him, at the intensity of his need for her reflecting in the green depths of his eyes. A shaky breath escaped her. Her body instinctively clenched down on him, causing a soft groan to escape those dangerous lips. She nodded, barely a fraction of a movement. Another groan escaped him.

He eased out of her, then thrust hard. Thomasyn's fingers gripped the bed post as a shudder wracked through her, shattering any control.

They moved together, her bottom pressing back to meet his every thrust. His hands moved over her, stroking, teasing, caressing. She was surrounded by him, enveloped by him as he stole deeply inside of her. She clutched the post as if it were a lifeline. He plunged deep, over and over, driving his shaft hard within her quivering walls.

"Wilham," she moaned shakily. He fingers found her as he surged against her bottom. She writhed on him, clenching and unclenching as he invaded her tightness with swift thrusts. The storm broke, and she cried out, ectascy washing over her as he wedged himself deep within her, his groans mingling with her cries.

He clutched her hips as he bucked inside her. With a cry, he split his hot seed into her pulsing, clutching tightness.

They collapsed on the bed, silent, panting.

Wilham lay on his back, arm thrown over his eyes, dragging in lungs full of air. Hell, he was a rutting beast. All his good intentions to give her time to adjust to bed play had flown the moment he spied Thommi. It had taken all his willpower not to push up her skirts and mount her there and then. He knew she must be sore from losing her virginity. As it was, his swift bedding had little regard to her innocence.

The depth of her response shattered him. He knew it was no excuse. She had little defence against him, her untrained body swiftly melting at his touch. Even now, the memory of her body's welcoming heat sheathing him taunted him. Dammit, who would have known he would be so randy for his own wife, a wife, he reminded himself, that he despised?

Truthfully, the anger at her compliance with her father's duplicity had eased somewhat. There was no malice or guile in Thomasyn. Perhaps more than anything it was his pride that took the largest fall to one so naive. The circumstances of his marriage grated against raw nerves, but the delights of her body were unmatched. Thomasyn was an exquisite treasure, one he was starting to realise her father had swiftly undervalued. Instead of navigating the legalities of dissolving the marriage with his lawyer, Wilham found he was intent on plundering the tender gentleness of his young wife. Realisation came to him just then that the thought of letting Thomasyn go was beyond the pale.

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bywishfulthinking© 26 comments/ 47510 views/ 55 favorites

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