Lord of Dread: Chapters 36-40 (Patreon)

Chapter 36

The second I see Will’s tufty brown hair and cheesy smile, I practically throw myself out of Elijah’s arms and into his.

“Will!” I scream, pulling him into a tight hug.

I had no idea he was coming, and I do a poor job hiding my delighted surprise as I step back and let him greet Elijah. The two give a friendly shake, and a maid rushes forward to take Will’s bags out of his hand.

“It’s good to see you,” Elijah says, returning to my side.

There’s a moment of silence as he wraps his arm around my waist. I gulp, my smile wavering as he squeezes my bicep. I expected Elijah to act distant from me while in his brother’s company.

I don’t know how to act around Elijah in public like this, and I follow his lead to avoid making things awkward.

Things with Will are already tense enough. We’ve exchanged a few letters these past weeks, but the last time we saw one another in person, he walked in on me pleasuring myself. Then he promptly ran away.

I feel my cheeks reddening at the mere memory, and I resist the urge to shiver as Will looks pointedly at where Elijah’s arm wraps around me. He raises a brow, and I hold my breath while waiting for him to address it.

Milliseconds pass before he clears his throat and turns away.

“It’s good to see you, too.” He returns Elijah’s statement.

A maid shuffles her feet, and Will spins in her direction before glancing back at us.

“Why don’t you go up and get settled?” I suggest, knowing that’s the polite thing to say.

The trip from Will’s city apartment to our home is quite long, and I’m sure he’s exhausted. It’s a feeling I know all too well.

Elijah has spent exactly three nights in my bedroom, two of which he insists I now refer to it as ‘our’ bedroom. His things fit nicely and he’s relatively tidy, but he moves around too much while sleeping and I’m constantly waking up to his heavy limbs pinning me to the mattress. They cut off my circulation and numb my body, and he has the audacity to groan when I shove him away.

“That would be great. I’ll see you two in a bit,” Will says.

He gives Elijah and me another look before turning to follow the maid upstairs. I’m sure he’s curious, and I’m confident the maid will fill him in on all our dirty gossip before they even reach his room. I dread all the questions and teasing I’m sure to endure at dinner.

“Why didn’t you tell me Will was coming?” I ask, spinning toward Elijah.

He cocks his head to the side before giving a slight shrug. It’s clear he’s trying to appear calm, but I can see how his muscles are bunched together. He’s tense.

“Well?” I prompt when he doesn’t immediately respond.

“It was a last-minute decision, and the topic hasn’t come up,” he says.

I purse my lips, more than a little annoyed. Will is one of my dearest friends. Elijah has always warned me beforehand, giving me ample time to ensure that Will’s bedroom is appropriately prepared.

Did he at least let the maids know? He must have. They didn’t seem surprised or overwhelmed by Will’s arrival.

“You should let me know when we’re expecting guests.” I run a hand through my hair and glance down at my dress.

I would’ve fought to have my corset tied tighter if I knew he was coming. I look sloppy and unkempt.

“It’s just Will,” Elijah says.

He’s watching me through narrowed eyes, but I ignore them and turn to head upstairs. Louise is likely still tidying up my room, and I need her help fixing my appearance. My hair needs good styling and I need to change.

“Where are you going?”

I ignore Elijah’s question. He’s not stupid, and I won’t treat him as such. He knows he should’ve warned me of Will’s arrival days ago. I don’t understand why he didn’t, and that’s a conversation I’ll force upon him later tonight.

If it’s jealousy, he needs to get it under control. Nothing has ever happened between Will and me, and nothing ever will.

There was a time when my thoughts surrounding Will were inappropriate, but they never went beyond my head. Elijah doesn’t need to know what I once lusted after his brother and wished my marriage was to Will instead. Telling him so will do no good, and I no longer feel those emotions.

Will is a good friend, but that is all.

I’m happy with that.

Elijah doesn’t follow me to my room, and by the time Louise has helped me remake myself, he and Will are already sharing a drink in the piano room. They’re speaking intently to one another when I enter, but their conversation dwindles as I make my presence known.

“It’s about time you join us!” Will stands and holds out his hands for me.

I mindlessly tug off my gloves before taking hold of his fingers. I give them a tight squeeze before sliding to my piano bench.

I’m confident the two men were speaking about me. They went quiet too quickly for their conversation to be about anything else. I know they have no issues talking about business when I’m in the room, the two having done so on many occasions.

Elijah clears his throat before standing and approaching my bench.

He waits patiently while I select the music I want to play. I’m feeling annoyed and slightly flustered today, and I pick a song that reflects that.

“Becks,” Elijah says my name so quietly I almost don’t hear it.

I hum and turn in his direction.

“Yes?” I ask.

He seems uncomfortable, and I straighten my spine as his cheeks and neck turn red. What’s up with him today?

“I wish to kiss you.”

In front of Will? That seems inappropriate. Will is his brother and my dearest friend, but I doubt he wishes to see that. I sure wouldn’t enjoy seeing my brother kiss Louise. I don’t care what they do behind closed doors, but I don’t need to see it.

Elijah clenches his jaw, his eyes flashing toward Will. Oh, for heaven’s sake. Is this a jealous, territorial thing? I let the man infiltrate my room and sleep in my bed, yet he still needs to stake some claim over me.

I hate it, but I still find my sex clenching despite it.

Elijah is jealous.

“You may,” I decide.

Elijah doesn’t hesitate to slot his mouth against my own, and his kiss is punishing as he cups my cheeks and steals my breath. I force myself to remain aware that Will is sitting on the other side of the room, and when Elijah tries to slip his tongue between my lips, I pull away.

Despite my rejection, he still looks pleased as he dips his chin and returns to his brother.

Fucking men.

I shift my attention to my piano and pretend to be busy inspecting the keys while I wait for my pulse to settle. Elijah’s gotten me worked up.

I hate how easily he’s able to do that.

He’s learned exactly how to do it these past few nights, too. Elijah seems to enjoy keeping me up late into the evening with his teasing touches and softly spoken words. Each night he joins me in bed, he makes it a personal mission to turn me into a panting mess.

I ache to feel his fingers or mouth between my thighs again. The most I’ve gotten is a knee shoved between them, but he moved it away when I tried to grind against his thigh.

He’s doing it on purpose. He wants me to ask for more, to beg for him, but I won’t.

As much as he’s teasing me, he’s teasing himself, too. I see and feel his erection as he kisses my neck and slides his hands up and down my nightgown. He aches for me, and it’s only a matter of time before he gives in.

Will and Elijah resume chatting as I bring my fingers to the piano keys, and I make my way through three songs before deciding to take a break. The gash on my hand is entirely healed now, but sometimes my palm still aches when I flex it for too long.

I put the music away and approach the two men. Elijah takes a sip of his drink as Will turns toward me.

“Would you care to play a game with me?” I ask Will.

I’ve been practicing with Louise, and Elijah taught me how to count the cards. I’m ready to win.

“I’d love to,” Will chuckles. “Do you mind if I steal your wife away?” he asks Elijah.

The teasing note in his voice tells me there’s some inside joke I’m not privy to between the two men. I ignore it and glare at Elijah. Those two have done more than enough chatting, and it’s my turn to hang out with Will. I haven’t seen the man in weeks, and we have much to catch up on.

Elijah meets my stare head-on. He works his jaw side to side, clearly annoyed. He’s never minded my friendship with Will before, and I don’t understand where his sudden hostility is coming from.

“I have some work I need to do, anyway,” Elijah finally says.

He stands and reaches for me, and I casually move my bare hands out of his reach and clasp them behind my back. The movement is smooth, and I can tell Elijah was reaching for them as he readjusts and grabs my hips instead.

I lift my chin and let him plant a chaste kiss on my lips, and I refuse to let my disappointment show when he doesn’t even attempt to deepen. Instead, he pulls away and leaves the room without another word.

Will practically bounces in his seat while he waits for his brother to disappear.

“What’s happening between you and Elijah?” Will blurts the second we’re alone. “The last time I was here, you hated him!”

I grab a deck of cards and move to the small game table in the corner of the room. Will sits across from me and begins shuffling.

“I’m not sure. He’s being nice to me,” I admit.

Will doesn’t immediately respond. The silence between us stretches, and I clear my throat and shift awkwardly as I wait for him to speak up. Why isn’t he saying anything? He doles out the cards, and I welcome the momentary distraction as I grab and organize my hand.

“We are sharing a bedroom,” I blurt.

Will hums but still doesn’t respond.

I tap my foot against the ground. What’s he thinking? Is he judging me for how quickly I’ve forgiven Elijah? Once upon a time, it was us against him. He loudly disagreed with Elijah’s treatment of me and even stuck up for me a handful of times.

Does he think I’m being foolish by warming up to my husband?

“He’s apologized and has been exceptionally kind these past few weeks. He took me shopping and accompanied me to my brother’s birthday party,” I continue, feeling a desperate need to defend Elijah.

Will glances at me over the top of his cards, and I huff as I realize he’s fighting back a smile. What’s so funny?

“It’s my life, and I will do with it what I want,” I snap.

I grind my teeth as Will’s tiny smile shifts into a full grin. He’s laughing at me.

“Relax, Rebecca. I’m happy for you two, and I’ve been hoping this would happen for a long while,” he says.

Has he? He sure could have fooled me. I remember when Will was more than happy to join me on trips into the woods and talk smack about Elijah. He agreed with every point I made, especially the ones where I grew daring and included some colorful language.

Annoyed, I grab a card from my hand and set it on the table. Will raises a brow, clearly shocked by my aggressive approach, before glancing over his cards and picking one out. He’s an aggressive player, but I intend to back him into a corner today.

“I’m excited to be an uncle.”

I just about choke on my spit.

“We aren’t—“ I pause and clear my throat. “We haven’t done that.”

It’s probably inappropriate to discuss my sex life with my brother-in-law, but my words are said in instinctual defense. I’m nervous enough about people drawing conclusions regarding the things Elijah and I are doing, let alone drawing them about things we are yet to do.

I’m not against having sex with Elijah. I’d probably go as far as to say I’m almost even excited to do so, but those feelings are for me alone. They aren’t anybody’s business, and I don’t want anybody to know about them.

Will shakes his head and takes his turn. It’s clear he either doesn’t believe me or isn’t putting much stock into my claim, and I don’t push it. This isn’t exactly a conversation I wish to have with him.

“Tell me how you’ve been,” I practically beg.

Will seems to take pity as he launches into a few stories of how he’s filled his time these past few weeks. I listen intently and ask as many follow-up questions as possible to prevent our conversation from shifting back to Elijah and me.

I lose the game, and we play three more before I get so angry I need a break.

How is he so good at this damn game?

“Let’s go for a walk around the grounds,” I decide.

“Are you trying to trick me into picking more berries for you?”

My lips twitch. It might be. Louise was instructed to leave my basket by the front door, and I do my best to seem shocked when Will notices it and picks it up with a low huff. He knows his place, and I’m pleased he doesn’t fight it as I lead him to my new favorite patch.

It’s closer than the one I brought him to before, and Will is tall enough to grab all the fruit I can’t reach.

“Oh, you bitch,” Will huffs when he realizes this particular plant has prickers.

I scream out in laughter before clamping a hand over my mouth and glancing back at the house. It’s unladylike to be so loud. Thankfully nobody is outside, but I do spot movement from Elijah’s office window.

I cannot see him through the glass, but I do not doubt that he was just there. Is he watching us?

Sucking in a deep breath, I turn toward Will and make myself comfortable on a nearby rock while he gets to work. We sit in comfortable silence, and I lean back and stare at the clouds while my mind runs rampant with thoughts of my particular dark-haired husband.

“I really am happy to hear that you and Elijah are getting along,” Will says, popping a berry between his lips.

He eats one for every three he picks, and I’m surprised he hasn’t given himself a stomach ache yet.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say we’re getting along just yet, but things are better,” I admit. “He’s done much apologizing, and I hate to say I’ve grown to enjoy his company.”

A small part of me fears I more than enjoy his company. I actively miss him when he’s gone, and even now, when I’m spending quality time with a good friend, I wish to have him near. It’s pathetic, and I wish I could pinpoint when exactly this change began.

I should have nipped it in the bud when I had the chance, but now I’m too deep.

Shit.

“Speak of the devil,” Will says, jerking his head toward the house.

I turn and force myself not to look too happy when I spot Elijah’s form walking toward us. He weaves through the few trees separating us from the house, and I stand as he enters our little area.

“Do you mind if I steal my wife?” he asks Will.

My cheeks grow red, the title always guaranteed to make me blush. Will pops another berry into his mouth before waving us away. There’s a dangerous glint in his eye as Elijah tightens his grip on my waist and leads me toward the house.

Chapter 37

“Where are we going?” I ask.

Elijah pushes open the back door and urges me inside. I spin, wanting to know what’s happening inside his head, but he pins me against a closet door before I can pry.

“Why do you laugh so hard with him?” Elijah asks. What? “I could hear you from my office. You touch him with your bare hands, you play him your music, and you take him to your private spots to pick berries.”

Elijah squeezes my waist and crushes me against his chest.

“You are my wife, not his,” he continues, pulling back and grabbing my waist. His touch is gentle despite the hard, angry look in his eye.

I had the inkling that Elijah was a bit jealous earlier, and if I’m honest with myself, I was going out of my way to be loud and provoke it. I wasn’t expecting this strong of a reaction, but I’m not complaining.

I like when Elijah gets possessive.

Elijah’s eyes darken, and his hands slide up my skirt and into the waistband of my underwear a second later. I clench my thighs around his wrist, but he kicks my feet apart to give himself more room.

“You’re mine.”

I lick my lips and glance around the room behind him. Anybody could walk in and see us.

Still, my body burns for him. I haven’t felt his touch on me in days, at least not on this particular part of my body, and I’m desperate for it.

Elijah runs his fingers over my slit before pressing against my bare entrance. I grab his shoulder and arch my back, expecting him to work a finger inside, but he doesn’t.

“Say it,” he continues.

He slides his fingers to my clit before giving it a quick rub and removing his touch altogether. I grab his wrist, not wanting him to stop, but he continues his retreat.

“I’m yours,” I whisper, desperate.

Elijah’s lips slam down on mine, and I barely manage a gasp before he hooks his legs around my knees and lifts me onto his hips. He picks me up easily, and I don’t even care who sees us as he carries me to our bedroom.

I’m interested to see where Elijah goes with this, and I’m sure Will doesn’t mind entertaining himself for a while.

He’s self-sufficient, and I have a needy husband who needs comfort.

The thought makes me smile. Elijah carries me to our room, and I hide my face in his chest as we pass a maid just seconds before he pushes open the door and drops me on the bed.

He closes and locks the door a second later, and I crawl back on the mattress as he strolls to the bed.

My heart is beating out of my chest, and Elijah smiles as he watches my reaction to him. I’m glad at least one of us is getting enjoyment out of this.

“Have you ever been spanked?” Elijah asks.

I sit up straight. Why is he asking me this? My hands twitch, and I fight the sudden urge to cover my butt as he kneels on the edge of the bed.

“Of course not,” I say.

My mouth runs dry as I debate whether or not to ask my next question.

“Why did you ask that? Do you want to spank me?” I have a feeling I already know the answer to this.

Elijah sinks his teeth into his bottom lip before licking over the skin and nodding. His eyes light up at the idea, and I don’t trust that look one bit. Still, I don’t move away as he grabs my ankles and drags me to the end of the bed.

My dress rides up, and Elijah takes full advantage of that as he lets his eyes travel the length of my legs. He’s always looking at me like a starving man looks at a freshly cooked chicken, and I hate to admit how much I love it.

“I’ve never felt the urge to spank a woman before,”Elijah admits.

That’s good, and I’m glad he’s taken it upon himself to tell me. It was only a matter of time before I began to pry.

“But I’ve also never had somebody disobey me as you do,” he continues. “I don’t want to hurt you, at least not really, but fuck do I want to spank you. I want to own you, and I want you to stop flirting with my fucking brother.”

Elijah climbs off the bed. He pulls me closer, until my butt meets the edge, and places himself between my spread legs. The fabric of my dress falls between my knees, hiding my most intimate parts from his view, but one flick of his wrist removes that obstacle.

“I’m not flirting with your brother,” I say, my words gaspy.

At least, not truly. I like to push boundaries with Will, but we’ve never crossed any lines. He’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman to me.

“You’re not? You could have fooled me.”

I prop myself up on my elbows and shoot Elijah a coy smirk.

“It seems you’re quite easy to fool,” I tease.

His lips twitch before he slides his hands up the insides of my thighs. His touch is teasing, and it takes everything in me not to shiver as it tickles my skin. Fuck. It’s been days since he last pleasured me, and I’m desperate.

“Can I spank you?” Elijah asks.

I should say no. The action is degrading, and I shouldn’t like the idea of him doing it. Elijah doesn’t own me, even if he is my husband, and what does it say about me if I let him bring his hand to my skin like I’m a child or some common whore.

I am neither.

“Why do you want to?” While I’m not entirely against the idea, Elijah sure will have to give me a good reason before I say yes.

“I don’t know.”

I raise a brow, unimpressed by his answer.

Elijah blinks, and a look of regret spreads across his features before he trails his nails down the insides of my thighs. I arch my back, enjoying the sensation, before grabbing his wrists.

“Talk to me,” I urge.

I’ve gathered that Elijah likes to take charge in the bedroom. He loves teasing me until I beg and whine, and I’m okay with it. I enjoy it too, and if there’s something he’s interested in, I want him to feel like he can discuss it with me.

Even if it’s something as extreme as spanking.

Louise would lose her head if I told her Elijah ever brought this up. Husbands don’t spank their wives. They save those feelings for prostitutes and women they feel are below them.

“I love how much you challenge and fight me, Becks, but in the bedroom, there’s this part of me that wants to own you. I want to spank you and know that you let me do things to you that you’d be ashamed and humiliated to tell anybody else about. I want that part of you. Your shame,” he finally admits.

Elijah steps away from the bed, and I sit up as he runs his fingers through his hair and paces the length of the room. He seems genuinely torn up about this, and I think I’m in shock even hearing it.

Are those things normal? I can’t exactly ask anybody about it. This conversation is too scandalous to speak about to even Louise. She’d faint and have to be put in the hospital to recover.

“And you think spanking me would fill that need for you?” I ask. “Or is there more you’re desiring?”

I’ve heard whispers of some sick men tying women up and harming them with knives and brands. If Elijah admits to wanting to hurt me with his hand, I’d be a fool not to want to know how far his desires go.

I am not cattle, and I will not be branded.

Elijah’s quick to shake his head. “I only wish to spank you. It’s not about hurting you; it’s about you giving me the control to do so.”

He sounds earnest, and I clench and unclench my hands before standing and leaning over the side of the bed. Will is here, and I will scream if Elijah takes things too far. I’m confident Will would save me from his brother if it came down to it.

“Very well,” I decide.

If he hits me too hard, I will be out of here by tonight. I don’t have much money saved, but I’m resourceful and will figure something out.

“Becks…” Elijah breathes.

I grab my skirt and lift it over my butt before pulling down my underwear. Elijah’s footfalls grow near as I expose my bare cheeks to him, and I plant my forehead into the bed as I wait for the strike.

My body is tense, and I grow rigid when his hands land on my butt. I expect pain, but instead, Elijah softly massages the skin. It’s not what I expect.

“I’m not going to spank you, Becks. Not like this,” he says.

Absolutely not. He went through the effort of having this awkward conversation with me, and now he will spank me. Otherwise I’ll spend the rest of my life in my head about it.

“Do it,” I urge.

“No.”

I fist the bedsheets, more than a little annoyed. Elijah is so fucking infuriating at times.

“I often used to touch myself while thinking about Ben. I felt him through his pants, and I liked to imagine how good he would feel inside me. That night you walked in on me, I was fingering myself to the thought of his thick—“

Elijah’s strike is fast and hard, and I end my sentence with a loud squeal as heat spreads through my right cheek. It doesn’t necessarily hurt, but the shock is intense. My words die on my tongue as I bury my face into the mattress and force my pulse to slow.

Elijah’s breathing is loud, and I let out another squeak as he grabs my waist and hoists my hips higher in the air.

“Ben is nothing to you,” he hisses, his voice low.

He lands another smack on my ass, this time to my left cheek. I’m unsure just how strong Elijah is, but I’m confident he’s not hitting me with even half the strength he possesses.

That’s good. I feared he would use all his might and leave me bruised.

Elijah cups my ass with both hands before he lets go and strikes my left cheek again.

Fuck.

I feel it in my sex, the heat spreading between my thighs. I squeeze them together, ashamed of how my skin prickles and my clit throbs. This is sick. I am sick.

“Say it. Ben is nothing to you,” Elijah urges.

My voice is weak when I finally work up the strength to speak.

“Ben is nothing to me.”

He spanks me again, and if it weren’t for Elijah grabbing my hips to keep me elevated, I’d fall flat on the bed. I clench my jaw to prevent any noises from escaping, but I’m sure Elijah is still able to read my body language and see I like this more than I should.

Past me would be furious to learn what I’m letting present me go through. She hated Elijah and everything he stood for, yet here I am letting him spank me on the bed we share. I should be ashamed of myself.

“Have I hurt you?” Elijah asks.

His voice is laced with genuine concern, and I hate the way it makes my heart soar.

“I’m okay,” I admit.

It’s true, and I’m surprised to feel that way. I thought I would hate this, but I push back against him. Elijah rubs my butt, his touch gentle as he massages the area he just spanked. I wonder if the skin is red, but I refuse to ask.

“You can do it harder,” I blurt.

Oh, hell. Why did I say that? Elijah’s fingers grow still where they massage me, and I hold my breath as I wait to see his reaction. He probably thinks I’m twisted. Who enjoys being spanked? Who enjoys being injured?

My thoughts run rampant, and I barely notice when Elijah gives my ass a hard squeeze and releases it. My exposed skin grows cold when he’s no longer touching me, and I curl my fingers into the bedsheets as I listen for any noises from him.

Is he leaving?

“Fuck!” The word is out of my mouth the second the sting registers in my mind.

I arch my back, and Elijah doesn’t hesitate to bring his hand to my skin three more times. I’m sweating into my mattress, and I collapse onto it with a loud cry when his last strike overlaps an already sore spot.

Elijah is panting, and I’m unable to formulate a single thought as he bundles up the hair at the base of my neck and presses a soft kiss to my skin.

“Thank you,” he whispers, trailing his lips down my back.

My dress prevents him from getting too far, and he skips over my covered skin before dropping to his knees behind me and kissing my butt.

I jolt as his lips make contact, and I hide my face in the mattress as his fingers slide up the insides of my thighs. I know I’m aroused, the near constant pulsating of my clit proof enough, and I squeeze my eyes shut as Elijah runs his middle finger along my slit and feels my wetness.

“Take me,” I whisper.

I’ve already thrown away my last bit of dignity and self-preservation. I want Elijah, all of him, and there’s no reason to keep putting it off. He’s already ruined me for any other man.

Elijah continues kissing my sore cheeks before working a finger into me. I push back against him, loving the feeling, before groaning when he pulls out and stands.

He taps my hip, the command silent but clear, and I swallow past the lump in my throat before rolling over. My butt stings as I put my weight on it, and I give Elijah my best glare when I realize there’s no way for me to sit without feeling it.

He only smiles.

Cocky bastard.

“You want me to take you?” he asks.

I clear my throat before giving a jerky nod. I promised myself I wouldn’t be the one to ask, but I’m growing impatient. Elijah’s cheeks are flushed, and I can’t help but smile as I drag my gaze lower. He’s straining against the fabric of his pants, his erection impossible not to notice.

I did that to him.

My knees spread, and I allow my dress to ride up as Elijah steps closer to the bed and places his hands on my knees. He’s looking between my thighs, his gaze heavy and full of lust.

“Not today, baby. I want to take my time with you, and we have a guest waiting for us,” he decides.

That’s bullshit. I sit up, ready to argue that Will is family and can wait, but Elijah plants a hand on my shoulder and pushes me onto my back. I press into the mattress with a huff, my annoyance rising.

“You’re going to be my ruin,” Elijah says.

Despite his words, he hardly seems upset as he drops to his knees and connects his mouth to my slit. He’s licking my clit a second later, and I accidentally slam my thigh into the side of his head as I jolt.

Elijah takes it in stride and pushes my leg aside, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thigh as he flicks his tongue over me until I’m a shaking mess underneath him. He thinks he’s coy by how he slides his hand up the bottom of my dress and cups my sore ass, but I’m too pleased to lecture him for it.

Eventually he moves his hands to himself, and I watch his shoulder flex as he pushes down his pants and begins to stroke himself.

It only takes what feels like seconds for me to fall apart, and I arch my back as Elijah licks me through my orgasm. My thighs shake, and he has to release himself to hold them apart so I don’t accidentally crush his head.

Seconds pass, and Elijah continues to give small teasing licks until I grow too sensitive and push him away.

“That’s enough,” I laugh.

Elijah groans and stares up at me through his lashes. He looks absolutely filthy on his knees with his mouth buried between my thighs, and his looks even filthier as he stands and shows me his manhood.

His erection bobs, and I lick my lips and stare in awe as he curls a hand around it and strokes from base to tip. Fuck.

I slide down the bed until I’m on my knees in front of Elijah.

This is a foolish thing to do, I know that, but I so desperately want to taste him. Elijah’s turned me into a moral less whore.

He releases himself with a shocked gasp. He didn’t expect this from me. I want to ask if he’s ever had a woman’s mouth on him before, but I won’t ruin the moment by voicing my question. I need to move past his history, and I never will if I allow myself to continue being hurt.

He can’t change his past.

“What are you doing, baby?” he asks.

Instead of answering, I lean forward and lick his tip.

“Shit!” Elijah hunches over me and moans.

I smack my lips, surprised by the flavor. It’s not bad, but it’s unlike anything I expected. It’s fleshy, but maybe a bit bitter and slightly salty. I don’t mind it, and I look at Elijah with a wide smile before leaning in and licking him again.

His hand falls to my head, and he cups it as I open my mouth and let him inside.

I’m unsure what to do, and I settle with sucking the very tip. Elijah strokes himself while I do so, and I place my hands on his thighs for stability as I lick his soft head.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that. Where do you want me to finish?” Elijah squeezes the base of his cock and shuts his eyes with a pained moan.

Where do I want him to finish? I furrow my brow, debating my options, before taking more of him in my mouth. He licks and swallows what my body produces, so I assume it’s edible.

Even if he produces more than me.

I continue sucking on his tip, and Elijah lets out a loud curse before resuming his stroking. His fingers press against my lips with each tug on his cock, and after a few seconds he chokes out a warning and stills.

His length twitches before I feel his cum hit the back of my throat, and I choke and pull away as it makes me gag. Elijah lets out a half snort, half moan, and I can’t help but screech as his fluid lands on my face during my retreat.

I was unaware it would shoot down my throat like that, and I scramble to my feet as Elijah slumps forward and finishes on his fist.

He turns and looks at me as I fix my dress, his eyes full of amusement as he watches me grab a rag and wipe at my cheek.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Am I okay?” My voice comes out in a high squeak. “You gagged me, Elijah! You are a whore!”

Elijah breaks out in laughter, and I stomp my foot before storming toward the door. Elijah rushes forward to wrap me in his arms, and I turn my head just enough for him to kiss my lips.

It’s nice, and I let myself enjoy it for just a moment before shoving him away and running out of the room.

Elijah is a stupid man.

Chapter 38

I prod at my beans, my appetite nonexistent. I made the mistake of eating six large handfuls of berries while playing cards with Will earlier, and it’s given me a slightly upset stomach.

Will ate the same amount as me, but he doesn’t seem to have the same issue as he shovels forkful after forkful of food into his mouth. The man is a bottomless pit, and I have a feeling our kitchen pantry is looking awfully light right about now.

Elijah shifts in his seat just seconds before I feel a hand on my thigh. It’s warm and heavy, and immediately I know it belongs to my husband. It’s inappropriate for him to touch me so intimately in front of our guests, but Will hardly seems to notice.

He’s made it clear that he’s happy to see Elijah and me getting along.

I’m still not sure how I feel about it.

“I’m sad to see you leave,” I tell Will.

He frowns and swallows his mouthful of food before responding. These past two days have been so much fun, and I’m heartbroken that his visit is so short.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Unfortunately,” Elijah laughs.

I blow out a tuft of air and flick my fingers in Elijah’s direction. He and Will are always so mean to one another. I like to tease Jack just as much as the next sibling, but I’d never tell him I don’t appreciate his visits.

Not that he’s ever been here.

My family hasn’t made many, or any, efforts to come to the house. A small part of me is annoyed by it, but it’s not like I’ve sent any invitations or been exceptionally welcoming, either. I’ve been too embarrassed about my relationship with Elijah.

I’d hate for them to come over and see how poorly he treats me, but maybe I should host a dinner party now that he’s being kind.

It would be a good way for my family to get to know him. Elijah hardly spoke to any of us on the day of our marriage, and there wasn’t time to have meaningful conversations during Jack’s birthday party last week.

“Oh, don’t be like that! You know I can’t stay away from the stunning Miss Rebecca,” Will says.

He shoots a sickly sweet smile in Elijah’s direction, and I fight the urge to groan when I feel the hand on my thigh tighten. I love when Elijah gets a little jealous, or protective as he prefers me to call it, but I don’t like when somebody else gets him worked up.

Only I get to tease him.

“It’s Mrs,” Elijah clarifies.

“My sincerest apologies.” Will holds eye contact with Elijah before shifting his attention to me. “Elijah sure has gotten testy these past few weeks,” he says. “I’m beginning to think he’s worried I’ll steal you away.”

I stare blankly at him before readjusting my grip on my fork and stabbing at a bean. I’m not getting involved in this.

“Becks is quite happy here,” Elijah decides.

Both men turn toward me, and I carefully take a bite of food to avoid answering. I know they’re joking around, but I’ve also seen my brothers resort to physical blows when they push things too far.

Although, I can’t imagine Elijah and Will ever fighting. They enjoy making one another angry, but I see how tightly they hug whenever Will leaves and how excited Elijah gets whenever he receives a letter from his brother. He tries to hide it, but I’ve noticed how his lips twitch upward and his back straightens as he reads over the sentences.

“Have you ever thought about moving closer?” I ask Will. “Maybe after you’ve taken a wife?”

I know he enjoys living in the city, but I’m sure whoever he marries would prefer to have an estate as their primary residence. It’s better for raising a family, and Will’s mentioned in passing that he’d like to have many children.

I’ve never been so daring as to pry into his finances, but I assume he’s got a decent nest egg saved up. Elijah would’ve received most of the family money after his parents died as he’s the oldest son, but I know he’d never leave Will high and dry.

“The thought’s crossed my mind. I see myself buying a place in the country in a few years,” he says. “Courting is easier when you’re living in the city, though. Less traveling.”

“It’s not that bad,” Elijah chimes in. He gives my leg a playful squeeze before continuing. “I was able to secure a marriage fairly quickly once I decided to take a wife, and I found the rides into town weren’t too terrible.”

My muscles tighten, and I brush his hand off my thigh as his words register. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“You didn’t court me, Elijah. You went behind my back and secured a marriage agreement with my father,” I snap. “Courting is different, and Will would be required to travel into the city frequently to attend dates and parties with his Lady.”

My tone is harsher than I intended, but I doubt I could soften it even if I tried. Hearing Elijah speak about his conniving actions with such nonchalance makes me furious. While it may not have been ‘that bad’ for him, it was the most agonizing time of my life.

He pretended I didn’t even exist in the weeks between our sudden engagement and marriage, and I spent every day fearing what my life would become. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.

The room grows silent, and I feel guilty for making things awkward for only a brief second before changing my mind. Elijah and I may be getting along, but I refuse to pretend our start didn’t happen the way it did. He may not be proud of it, but he has nobody to blame but himself.

Will clears his throat as Elijah shifts toward me. He’s frowning, and he returns his hand to my thigh before dipping his chin.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says.

I gulp, my eyes darting toward Will. I didn’t anticipate ever hearing Elijah concede to me like this in public. He usually reserves his apologies for when we’re in private.

“I wish I had courted you properly, and it was thoughtless for me to say that,” he continues.

My cheeks grow red.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice low.

Elijah squeezes my thigh before turning back to Will and changing the subject. I’m relieved to have their attention off me, and I take a few moments to settle my racing heart. I’m not used to Elijah’s public affection, and it flusters me every damn time.

What does Will think of it?

Was Elijah like this with the other women he was with? I know he wasn’t with the maid, but I don’t know anything about the other two females with whom he’s been intimate. I’m willing to bet he wasn’t.

Despite his odd behavior as of late, Elijah’s generally a pretty reserved person.

We ran in the same circles long before our marriage, and I can count on one hand the number of times I saw him seeming to genuinely enjoy himself. We didn’t call him the Lord of Dread for no reason.

Elijah is horribly dreadful when he wants to be.

The remainder of dinner goes smoothly, and Will and Elijah keep the topic of conversation away from anything resembling courting or marriage. That’s probably for the best.

Things are finally back to normal after Will walked in on me pleasuring myself, and I’m not exactly jumping at the opportunity to make it awkward again. Forcing Elijah to apologize in public is sure to do just that.

Elijah is the man of the house and has a reputation to upkeep.

If word gets out, not that Will would ever say anything, that he allows his wife to push him so far, men would be hesitant to do business with him. They’d worry their private conversations would find their way back to me, and even worse, they’d fear my feminine ramblings would impact Elijah’s decisions.

It’s bullshit, especially since I know I have good ideas, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

I appreciate how Elijah doesn’t treat me as a lesser being because of my sex, but I know many don’t feel the same way. The older generations, men like my father, tend to have stronger convictions, but I’m excited about how many men of my youngest baby brother’s age are so open.

“Are you ready for dessert?” Elijah asks, drawing my attention.

I turn toward him and pretend I haven’t been ignoring the dinner table conversation. I stopped listening when they began to speak about the financials of the new estate down south, the topic much too dull to hold my attention.

“Yes!” I chirp.

Will laughs, and I shoot him a playful glare as Elijah waves over our servers. They crowd around the table as they collect our plates and the leftover food, and I smoothly grab my gloves resting in the chair next to me and slip them on while I wait.

Elijah watches as I adjust them, and I pretend not to notice how he frowns and glances toward Will. I know he’s upset I touch his brother and not him, but I’m just not ready.

Something I can’t quite pinpoint holds me back, and it’s impossible to ignore. It’s not anger or pettiness that prevents me from letting my bare hands touch Elijah, and I honestly do wish I understood where my reluctance is coming from.

I’ve never had issues with touching people before.

In fact, I’d go as far as to say I’m a relatively touchy person. In my youth, I could almost always be found cuddling with some poor, unsuspecting family member. It stopped once I began bleeding and the time for me to act with poise became more pressing.

Men don’t want to marry a woman who runs around getting handsy with all her friends and family. They’d be embarrassed and probably think it means I have looser morals.

I fail to see how my love for touch means I’m more likely to cheat, but I’ve come to accept that men are slightly stupid and I’ll never quite understand their logic.

The tantalizing scent of chocolate fills my nose as a server steps into the room with three large pieces of cake. It’s a rich brown color and looks plenty moist, and my mouth waters as a plate is set in front of me.

There’s even a thin layer of frosting spread over the top, and I lick my lips as I wait impatiently for Will and Elijah to be served. Every millisecond feels like an hour, and the second the plates are set in front of them, I’m grabbing my fork and digging in.

Oh, my.

My eyes slip shut as the first bite, and I hold back a loud moan as I eagerly take another. I could eat this every day of my life, for every meal, and never grow bored.

“Heavens, Brooks,” Will snorts.

I point my fork in his direction. “Leave me alone.”

Elijah snorts, but he’s smart enough to stay out of it. I love my chocolate cake, and I won’t apologize for it. Not everybody grew up in a household where they could eat such decadent desserts with every meal.

My father had money, but dessert was still very much a treat. We were only given it on birthdays or when he was trying to impress guests, and even then, it wasn’t nearly as good as this.

Elijah doesn’t skimp on the quality of his cocoa.

I finish my piece in record time, and my heart soars when Elijah cuts off a large portion of his cake and slips it onto my plate. He’s sharing with me? I’d never do this with him, and I can’t help but feel stupidly complimented as he meets my gaze and gives me the soft smile usually reserved for when we’re alone in our bedroom.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I have to look away before my thoughts stray too far into the inappropriate.

I hope that we will finally consummate our marriage tonight. Elijah has refused to do anything with me while Will is here, but I can tell he’s needing. His body is hard every night when he crawls into bed, and I’ve woken up multiple times to him whispering my name and rubbing against me in his sleep.

He dreams of me, of my body, and I find that I’m doing the same.

I’m tired of waiting and wish to live like any other married couple. Everybody knows we’re sharing a bedroom at this point, and Louise seems to think we’re intimate if her whispers about being willing to get me a sponge are anything to go by.

The mere memory of her reddened face as she whispered her question is enough to make me shiver.

“I hate to leave so abruptly after dinner, but I should get going if I want to make it home before dark,” Will says, setting his fork on his now-empty plate.

I frown, still unhappy he’s leaving.

“I suppose that’s for the best,” I agree.

Disappointment is thick in my voice, and Elijah lets out a low chuckle before standing with Will. I rise, and Elijah wraps an arm around my waist before leading me out of the dining room and into the foyer.

Will walks two steps in front of us, and I’m about ready to pout when we make it to the front door and I see that his carriage is already loaded. I usually love the efficiency of our staff, but it’s times like these when I wish they were a bit slower.

“It was great seeing you!” I say, stepping forward and pulling Will into a hug.

He returns it with a tight one of his own, and I step aside and wait while he and Elijah do the same.

“We hope to see you soon. You know you’re always welcome here,” Elijah says.

Will nods and shoves his hands in his pocket before dipping his chin and leaving. I watch as he steps into his carriage and disappears behind the door, and only once the driver takes his seat and grabs the reins for the horse do I finally turn away.

“What now?” I ask Elijah.

“I wish to play some games with you to lighten your spirits, then I want to get a few drinks in you to loosen your lips, and then I intend to finally learn why you have been stealing my undershirts,” he whispers, pulling me into his arms.

Excuse me? He’s sorely mistaken if he thinks he will get information from me. What I wear under my dresses is my business only, and I’m seconds away from telling him such when he laughs and squeezes my butt.

I jolt, not expecting the strike, and Elijah takes advantage of my momentary distraction as he hurries out of the room. I gawk, watching him leave, before sucking in a sharp breath and storming after him.

Chapter 39

I run my fingers through the fibers of the rug. It’s a nice one, probably quite expensive, and the vibrant red and gold detailing is beautiful. Elijah sits on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, and I stare at my cards for a moment longer before huffing and dropping them on the table.

It’s a shit hand.

Elijah laughs and happily collects the berries in the center of the table. Those were the last of mine, and I can’t help but pout as I eye Elijah’s giant pile. I hate that he’s better at this game than I am.

He eyes the collar of my dress, and I laugh before turning away.

A fire roars to my left, and I stare into the flames as Elijah shuffles the cards. I know he’s disappointed he hasn’t been able to get any answers as to why I stole his shirts.

It’s a question he’ll never discover the answer to.

Now that we’re sharing a bedroom, it was all too easy to sneak all my stolen shirts back into his wardrobe. He’ll never know the extent of my thievery, and I intend to keep it that way. I’m no longer tying my corset so tight, so it’s not like I need them anymore.

“Are you done playing?” Elijah asks, noticing my attention is no longer on the game.

“I’m out of berries,” I pout.

Elijah hums, and I inch closer to the fire before reaching for an iron poker. It’s below my station to manage the fire, but I enjoy stabbing at the embers and seeing how the fire shifts as I move around the wood logs.

Sparks fly up the chimney as I stab the top log so hard it falls onto the embers.

I laugh, pleased with myself.

“Your laugh is beautiful,” Elijah says.

I turn just in time to see him shutting and locking the main door leading into the room. He’s only done this once before, the morning he followed me in here and fingered me against the wall, and I find myself holding my breath as he turns and does the same to the servant’s door.

What’s he planning?

My heart beats out of my chest as he tugs on the handle to ensure it’s locked. The door doesn’t budge, and a satisfied smile spreads across his lips as he turns and joins me by the fire.

He kneels to my left, his thigh brushing against my own, and I fight the urge to lift the thick fabric of my dress so I can feel his bare skin touching mine.

“Why have you locked the doors?” I ask.

Elijah doesn’t answer, at least not vocally, as he turns and connects his lips with my temple. They linger, warm and soft, before I feel the poker stick being pried out of my hand and set aside.

“Are you scared I’m going to jab you?” I tease.

Elijah snorts. “Petrified.”

He slides his lips to mine, and I happily turn in his direction and welcome it. We haven’t had a genuine kiss since last night, but even then, it was restrained. Elijah was careful to keep things appropriate while Will was here. I don’t understand it.

It’s not like the man would have heard us through the thick walls of our bedroom, and I doubt that, even if he did, he’d care. Will may not be married, but he’s still an adult. If I’m aware of what happens between a married man and a woman, I’m sure he does, too.

I assume he knows even more. Men are privy to information typically kept from women.

Elijah lifts my dress just above my knees before pulling me onto his lap. I don’t hesitate to follow his lead, and I plant myself on his hips as he grabs my waist and trails his lips down my neck. Arousal builds in my abdomen, and I pant into the air as he peppers the sensitive skin of my throat with wet kisses.

“Elijah,” I moan, placing my hand on his chest. “What’re you doing?”

“I want to see you,” he says.

See me? He’s seeing me right now? Elijah’s hands slide to my back, and I stiffen as I feel him begin to untie the laces of my top. My breath hitches and my pulse begins to race as I realize what he means.

He wishes to unclothe me? In here? I’ve only ever stripped in my bedroom, where it’s meant to happen, and I’m uneasy about being exposed in such a public place in our home. Elijah closed and locked the doors, but what if somebody thinks it was a mistake and uses a key to open one?

“We should do this in our bedroom,” I pant.

Elijah removes the last of my laces and pulls my shirt down my arms. He eyes the top of my corset and my undershirt sticking out from underneath it with a frown.

“You wear so many layers,” he pouts.

I fight the urge to laugh.

“Bedroom,” I remind him. I’m ready for him to strip me bare and finally make me his wife in more than name, but this isn’t the place for it.

Elijah shakes his head.

“We’ll finish there, don’t worry. You look beautiful in this lighting, and I want to see you in it,” he says.

Well, how can I argue with that? Elijah reaches for my skirt, and I sit up as he unties and pulls it down my hips. I stand so it’s easier for him, and he follows suit before moving to my corset. He stands behind me and takes his sweet time unlacing it, and I stare into the fire as I feel it disconnect from my torso.

Elijah bundles up my hair and moves it over my shoulder before kissing the back of my neck and grabbing my long underdress. It’s being pulled over my head a second later, and I fight the urge to cover my bare breasts.

He leaves my gloves on, not even bothering to try and remove them. I know he hates them, and I love how he respects my wishes to keep them on. I’m at the point where I wouldn’t fight him if he tried to remove them, but it’s not something I would do voluntarily.

I think he knows that, and I know he wants me to remove them myself.

The fire warms the front half of my body as I kick away the fabric pooled by my feet and stand naked in the middle of the room. I’ve never felt so vulnerable before, and I can barely believe I’m letting Elijah do this.

“You’ve told me about a scar on your hip. I wish to see it,” he says, breaking the silence.

I suck in a shaky breath and turn around. The warmth from the fire hits my back as I face Elijah, and after a moment, I lower my arms to my sides and uncover my breasts.

He doesn’t waste any time looking at them.

I have to admit, the dim glow in the room is nice. It feels oddly romantic, and I gulp as Elijah drops to his knees and levels his face with my scar. It’s large, and he runs his thumb along it before leaning in and kissing it.

He looks up at me through his lashes the entire time, and I clench my hands into tight fists as his actions are felt in my lower abdomen.

I step closer to the fire, wanting more warmth, and Elijah follows. The room has a bit of a chill to it when you’re not wearing twenty layers of clothing.

My eyes dart toward the locked doors one last time before I timidly lower myself onto the rug. Elijah licks his lips as I kneel, his eyes darting rapidly over my exposed body. I can’t believe I’m letting him do this.

“I used to fantasize about us being in here. I’d watch you from the doorway when you weren’t looking, and I dream about the day you’d welcomed me here,” he admits. “This quickly became your room, your sanctuary, and I so badly wanted to be invited inside.”

I hold my breath.

“Seeing you in here like this,” Elijah pauses and clears his throat. “The fact that you’re letting me touch you and make you vulnerable in here— fuck —I can’t even tell you what it does to me. I can’t put into words how honored I feel.”

Fire consumes me.

Elijah cups my cheeks, his eyes boring into my own. “I love you, Rebecca.”

He smiles, and I find I can do nothing but stare at him with an open jaw. He loves me? Have I misheard him? Blood rushes through my ears, and I grab his wrists as he presses his lips to mine.

The kiss is soft and full of passion, and I let out a quiet moan as he tilts his head to the side and his tongue grazes mine. We kiss for a few minutes before I find the strength to pull away.

“Take off your clothes,” I decide.

Elijah hesitates, and I frown. If I could work up the courage to be naked in this room, so can he.

“Give Momma a little show,” I continue.

Elijah rolls his eyes, and before I can think better of it, I reach out and flick his forehead. It seems to startle him as he jolts backward and blinks up at me, and I shoot him my sweetest smile as I gesture to his clothing.

His responding laugh is so loud I fear he will startle the horses in the stables on the other side of the estate. He drops his head to his chest, and I can’t help but beam as he reaches for his shirt and begins to undo the buttons.

“What Momma wants, Momma gets,” he snorts, stripping.

I sit back and lean against the leg of the couch, and my arousal builds as Elijah exposes himself to me one button at a time. It’s embarrassingly erotic, and I don’t do a good job pretending it doesn’t affect me as my chest rises and falls with deep, uneven breaths.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on before.

I bring my knees together and squeeze my thighs as his shirt falls to the floor. When he moves to his pants, I lose all self-respect and slide my hand down my torso. My fingers twitch where they rest on my lower belly, and Elijah stares at them as he stands and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear.

He drags them down his legs with his pants in one smooth motion.

His manhood is thick and hard, and I can’t bring myself to look away as Elijah pulls off his socks and takes hold of himself.

Elijah fights a smile as I let out a quiet gasp, and I hate the pull he has over my emotions as I find myself sliding my fingers between my thighs. My knees are still pressed together, hiding his view as I press the tips of my fingers into my clit.

It feels good, and I choke back a moan as Elijah slowly begins to stroke himself.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks.

I nod, at a complete loss for words as he kneels on the ground. My knees block my view, a move I know he’s done on purpose, but I hardly find myself upset as I spread my legs so we can both see. He places a hand on my upper thigh to watch as I rub myself, and I clench around the air as he twists his fist around the tip of his length.

“I didn’t intend for things to go this far,” he admits.

I arch my back as my pleasure grows. I’ve never touched myself like for anybody, and I can tell he loves it by the quiet, choked moans he lets slip from between his lips. I like knowing I make Elijah so needy, and I spread my thighs further for him.

“I want you inside me,” I decide.

Elijah has been keeping me on edge for days, and I need to know how it feels to have him filling me. The toy was good, but it was cold and I need more. I want him to warm me from the inside, first with his cock and then with his seed.

I will be made a wife and a mother, and Elijah will not keep it from me a moment longer.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he suggests.

I shake my head. It will be more meaningful if it’s done here. I want him to have this.

“Make me your wife,” I say. “You say you love me, then show me. Give me what I want.”

Elijah throws his head back with a shaky moan. I continue to rub myself, but I remove my hand when he shuffles forward and places himself between my spread thighs. He’s so close to where I want him, and I bite my lip as he grabs a pillow from the couch and adjusts us so that instead of leaning against the leg, I’m lying on my back with my head propped up on the pillow.

My legs wrap loosely around his waist, and I press my heels into the backs of his thighs as he inches closer.

The tip of his manhood touches my entrance, just barely grazing against it, but it’s enough to have me panting.

“And what is it you want, Rebecca?” Elijah asks.

I arch my back, desperate to have him closer.

“I want you.”

Elijah leans over me, his warm breath fanning my cheek, and he holds eye contact as he finally presses against me. Thanks to the toy, I know what to expect as my body opens for him.

I clench as I feel him stretching me, and he pauses for a moment before pushing in further. It feels odd, definitely better than the toy, and I wiggle underneath Elijah as he eases more into me.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, pausing.

I shake my head. “No.”

Elijah glances between our bodies before cursing and dropping his forehead onto mine. He looks crazed, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed, and I love every second of it.

I do this to him.

“Fuck me,” I say.

I know he loves it when I swear or say naughty things, and the curse that slips from his lips as he thrusts the remainder of himself into me confirms it. I jolt as his hips meet mine, shocked by how full I feel, before I clench around his length a few times and get adjusted.

This is so much better than the toy.

Elijah is warm inside me, and I feel like I’m about to burst as he pulls out about halfway and eases himself back in. He glides smoothly, and I move my hips in tandem with his slow, careful thrusts.

Many of the women I’ve spoken to have told me their husbands slam their erections into them until it hurts, but Elijah does nothing of the sort. His movements are gentle, and once I’ve warmed up to them, he reaches between us and rubs my clit.

He did this when he used the toy, too, and I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel an orgasm coiling deep inside me.

Elijah continues his affectionate fucking, and it only takes seconds for my thighs to begin shaking. I jerk and cry out as I cum. He continues to rub my clit until I fall limp, and his pace quickens as he begins to chase after his high.

His hips smack against my own with each thrust, and his moans sound absolutely filthy as they erupt from his lips.

“Where do you want me to finish?” he asks, his voice strained.

I smile and wrap my legs around his hips. Elijah plants his hands into the rug on either side of my head and pushes himself up to watch my breasts bounce with each thrust. He licks his lips, clearly enjoying the visual, before meeting my gaze head-on.

“If I cum in you, I’m going to take away the money and maps you’ve got hidden under our bed,” he warns. “I won’t let you leave.”

He knows about my plans? I’m not surprised, and I roll my hips with a jerky nod. At this point, I don’t think I could run away even if I wanted to.

Elijah lets out a loud groan before he stiffens and buries himself deep into me. I feel his length twitching as he cums, and I wrap my arms around his back and hold him close.

“Fuck, baby,” he laughs.

I give him a tight squeeze. Mine.

Chapter 40

Suffocating heat pulls me from my sleep, and I groan before shoving at the limb sprawled across my stomach.

My back and neck hurt, and I roll over so I can stare at the dull embers in the fireplace and collect my thoughts. Elijah has made me his wife. I place a hand on my lower abdomen and swallow past the lump in my throat. He may have also made me a mother.

I was scared of what sex would look like with him, and I feel my lips curl into a satisfied smile as I recall how gentle he was. He didn’t slam himself into me as my friends warned, and he was careful to ensure there was no pain.

I don’t regret it, and I pray that now that we’ve gotten this first time over with, he will be open to doing it more frequently. I wish to have him inside me all the time.

One of the embers in the fireplace crackles, drawing my attention. What time is it? The fire looks like it went out a while ago, but the room is still sweltering hot. With the doors closed, there’s nowhere for the heat to go.

We shouldn’t have fallen asleep in here.

Elijah rolls onto his back, and I take a selfish second to enjoy the sight of his naked body before pushing up into a sitting position. There’s a dull ache where he entered me, and I grimace as I feel his dried cum between my thighs.

I need to clean myself.

And I need to hide my runaway money. I meant what I said, and I’ll no longer continue to play my escape from Elijah, but I fully intend to keep the money. I spent a long time saving and want to buy something nice for myself. Elijah can keep the maps.

Besides, I can’t run if I’m with a child. Elijah would never let me go, and I fear with the resources he has, I wouldn’t make it far before being found and returned home.

“How do you feel?” Elijah asks.

His voice is thick with sleep, and I fight back a smile as I turn and look around for my clothing. Elijah wasn’t careful as he stripped me, and they lay strewn around the room.

“I feel good,” I admit.

Elijah hums. “Are you sore?”

I clench my thighs together. There’s an ache, but it’s dull and by no means a nuisance. If anything, I quite enjoy it. It’s a reminder that I took my husband tonight.

“A little, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” I tease.

Elijah turns toward me with a lazy smile. His eyes trail the length of my body, and I hope he enjoys what he sees. He props himself up on his elbows, and I cannot help but admire how his stomach muscles flex and roll with the movement.

Does Elijah exercise? I’ve never seen him do so, but he looks like he does. His muscles are large and prominent, and I fight the urge to touch them as I turn away and resume my search for my clothing.

“If you’re ruined my dress, you’re paying to have it fixed,” I threaten.

Elijah’s only response is a laugh. He thinks I’m joking, but we’ll see how much he’s laughing when I’m demanding he coughs up the coin for an appointment with the seamstress. It’s an expensive dress, and it won’t be cheap to fix.

I look around the rug, and my face turns a thousand shades of red when I see the spot where we coupled. The fibers covered in fluids, mine or Elijah’s I have no idea, and I drop to my knees in horror to get a closer look.

“Elijah,” I hiss, waving him over. “You whore!”

He snorts. “You’ve got to stop calling me that.”

Over my dead body. He kneels to my right to take a look, and I move away before I grow too panicked. Elijah is bright, and I’m sure he’ll find a solution. He has to. That’s his job as my husband. To find solutions to problems that upset me.

The house is dead silent as I collect my clothes. I lay my dress out on the couch while I search for my undergarments, the damned things near impossible to find in the dark room.

“Relax, my love,” Elijah says, coming up behind me.

There he goes with that word again. It steals my breath, and I struggle to think clearly when his confession of love rattles around in my brain.

Did he say he loves me in a fit of passion or is that truly how he feels?

I don’t want to draw attention to it by asking, especially since I don’t know if I feel the same way. I think I might love him, but doubt creeps in and makes me hesitate. It’s dangerous to give all of myself to another, and I don’t know if I’m ready to love Elijah.

It’s all I have, and it would destroy me if he were to turn around and use it against me. I doubt he would, but you can never be too sure.

Elijah wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my cheek. His bare torso presses against my back, and I do my best to ignore how his manhood touches my butt. Despite what we’ve just done, it feels inappropriate.

Those are his most intimate parts, and having him so casually press against me turns my blood into fire.

Elijah squeezes me in his arms, and I squeak as the action presses his shaft even more against me. He must be doing this on purpose.

“What’s wrong?” he laughs.

The bastard knows what he’s doing.

I clear my throat and straighten my spine. “I’m wonderful.”

Elijah trails his lips up my cheek until they rest at my temple. His mouth is warm, and I hate to admit I like how his chest expands against me as he breathes. Before I can think better of it, I spin in his arms.

His skin is soft, and I smile as I press my cheek to his chest and listen to his beating heart. It’s steady, and I take great pleasure in how it quickens as he realizes I’m listening.

“We should go to bed,” Elijah says.

He pushes my hair out of my face and tucks a strand behind my ear. I don’t want to know how messy it looks right now. I chose to wear it down today, and I’m sure between our sex and my sleeping on the rug, it’s a complete disaster.

Louise is going to give me a hard time in the morning.

“I love you,” Elijah says.

He keeps saying that. Instead of answering, I press my lips to his. He doesn’t push me for a response, but I can tell he’s disappointed by the way he keeps our kiss short. Guilt eats away at me, but I need time to think.

This is a big deal.

“Let’s get you dressed.” Elijah clears his throat before bending to grab the sock I’ve been searching for.

He sets it on the couch with the rest of my things before grabbing my first layer. It’s a thin underdress, and I happily let Elijah slip it over my head. He’s dressed me a few times, and I appreciate the care he puts into it.

I’ve never heard of a husband taking on the role of lady’s maid before, and I’m sure he’d be humiliated if word got out he did these things for me. Helping to tie some pesky laces is acceptable, but dressing me in every layer is next level.

My friends would be jealous if they knew how Elijah dotes on me.

“You don’t have to do this,” I say.

I say it every time, but we both know how much I like it.

Elijah smiles and gestures for me to spin. I do, and I help him get my corset in place before sucking in my stomach. He ties it just tight enough that it doesn’t fall. I’d usually yell at him for it, but I’m going to take it off the second we enter our bedroom, so I stay quiet.

If Elijah had his way, I’m sure he’d request I wear it this loose every day.

I never meant to frighten him so deeply with my bruises, and a small part of me fears I’ve scarred him. It’s not like the use of corsets is some secret kept from men, so I know damn well he was aware I wear one, but I suppose it makes sense he didn’t understand just how restricting they could be.

“Do you think anybody knows we fell asleep in here?” I ask.

We played our card game rather late into the evening, so I doubt too many maids were walking around when Elijah got up and locked the doors. I’m sure it was noticed that we closed ourselves in, a fact I’m working hard not to panic about, but I desperately hope nobody’s realized just how long we locked ourselves in.

Elijah helps me step into my skirt before tying it at the waist.

“Does it matter if they know? What can I do to make you feel more comfortable here?” he asks. “This is your house, and I hate seeing how insecure you feel in it.”

Insecure?

“I am no such thing!” I snap.

Elijah snorts. “You’re embarrassed for people to know we have sex, Becks. We’re married, and we share a bedroom. At this point, I’m sure they care more about the gossip of your bleed than they do a few locked doors and stains on a rug.”

He doesn’t know anything.

“I understand you’re sensitive because of the mistakes I’ve made in our past, but I can assure you I’m not making you out to be a fool. There are no other women, and there’s nothing they’re whispering that would hurt you to hear,” he promises.

I gulp, hating how accurately he’s able to pinpoint my discomfort.

“You are the only woman I’ve locked inside this room, and you are the only woman I’ve shared a bed with. No one is laughing at you, and our maids respect you as my wife. You need to let yourself see that.” Elijah cups my cheeks.

He crouches until he’s at eye level with me, and he refuses to look away until I meet his gaze and see the truth in his face. My throat is scratchy, and I clear it before dipping my chin in acknowledgment. I needed to hear that.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Elijah runs his thumbs across my cheekbones. The touch is comforting, and I let myself enjoy it for a few moments before stepping away and grabbing his shirt. He looks mildly confused as I approach, but his expression softens as I gesture for him to hold out his arms.

I may not be ready to tell him I love him, but I hope this shows my affection. Elijah is quickly becoming my person, and I take my time and dress him with the same care he gives me. Things get a bit awkward with I bend and try to help him get his underwear up his legs, and he quickly takes over when I look at his penis and accidentally let out a giggle.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, shooing me away.

Should I answer? He might be offended. Elijah pulls up his pants with a frown, showing me he’s already offended. That wasn’t my intention, and I grimace as I watch him do his buttons.

“Well?” he pries.

I shrug. “It’s just….” I pause and clear my throat. “I’ve only ever seen you hard before. I didn’t realize it just hangs there when you’re not.”

Elijah looks down at himself.

“What else do you expect it to do? Shrivel up inside me?” he asks.

“Kind of,” I admit.

I glance at his manhood again. He’s wearing his pants now, but the memory of his soft penis still lives in my mind and I can’t do anything to stop the abrupt snicker that slips from my lips. It’s quickly followed up by a shriek as Elijah lunges for me, and I scream out in laughter as he pins me to the floor and slides his fingers along the sole of my foot.

He knows I’m ticklish there, and I wiggle helplessly on the ground until he takes pity and releases me.

“You’re a mean, mean woman,” Elijah whispers, climbing off me.

I accept his outstretched hand and stand. The sudden movement brings attention to the dull ache between my thighs, and Elijah seems to notice how I flinch as he frowns and lifts me into his arms.

Both my knees dangle over his right arm, and he uses his left to support my back. I wrap my arms around his neck, scared to fall.

“Elijah!” I gasp. “What’re you doing?”

He only smiles, and I hold onto him for dear life as he grabs the glass of red wine I didn’t finish earlier and dumps it over the wet spot we left on the rug. It’s going to stain, and I stare in horror as he snatches my socks and makes his way to the locked door.

“You’ve ruined that rug!” I hiss.

Our sex remnants were embarrassing, but they would’ve been able to be cleaned. There’s no way the wine will be entirely removed.

Elijah unlocks and pulls open the servant’s door before turning and doing the same to the main one. He leaves our shoes behind as he steps into the hallway and begins carrying me to our bedroom.

The estate is empty, thank the heavens, and we don’t run into a single soul as he makes his way to our room. We’ve gotten lucky tonight, and I don’t try to hide my relief as he pushes open our door and sets me on my feet.

We strip in silence, and Elijah is a good sport about my not-so-hidden glances at his manhood. I don’t feel so shy about looking anymore, and if I weren’t sore, I would want to get a bit more personal with it.

“Let me get you a wet cloth,” Elijah says, stepping into our bathroom.

I continue to strip, and I stand naked in the center of the room until he returns. He holds a cloth in his hand, and I take it from him with a small smile.

“Turn around,” I order.

Elijah scoffs. “Why? I’ve already seen you.”

I shoot him a sharp glare, and with a huff, he spins and waits impatiently for me to clean myself. It feels good to remove the dried evidence of our sex, but I’m confused to see no blood. I’ve heard rumors that a woman’s first time can be quite graphic, but the cloth picks up none.

Is it because I used the toy before I took him? Did the object take my virginity? I lick my lips, horrified.

“Was I a virgin?” I blurt.

Elijah stiffens, and I watch him roll his shoulders and suck in a deep breath.

“I suppose I’m in no place to be angry if you weren’t,” he says.

What? I shake my head and walk around him. He refuses to meet my eyes, and I laugh when I realize what he’s going on about. Does he think I have it in me to be intimate with another man and never mention anything?

Ben is the only other man I ever dared to touch, but Elijah is aware he walked in before things went too far.

“No, you fool. I want to know if that toy took my virginity, or if you did,” I explain. “You’re the only man I’ve been with.”

Elijah licks his lips, still avoiding eye contact. Why does this topic seem to make him so uncomfortable? He’s the one who purchased the toy and used it on me, so I don’t understand why he’s suddenly being weird about the mention of it.

“Well?” I pry.

Elijah shrugs. “If it pleases you to believe you lost your virginity to the toy, I will not refute it,” he says.

“It does not please me,” I admit. “But I did not bleed with you, and technically I took the toy first.”

My voice cracks, my horror not well hidden. I suppose it’s not the end of the world if I lost my virginity to an object instead of a man, but that’s not what I wanted for myself. It may have been how I momentarily felt when I was angry with Elijah and wanted to be spiteful, but I’ve grown to care for him.

I thought I was giving my virginity to him. Women don’t bring much to a marriage, and my purity was important to me.

Elijah pulls me into his arms and rests his chin on my head.

“Even after using the toy, I still thought of you as a virgin. I considered tonight your first time, but that’s your decision to make,” he says. “Not all women bleed.”

I wanted him to give me a yes or no answer. Elijah leans back and looks down at me, and I frown as I consider his words. I’m not sure what he says about bleeding is true, but if he’s going to give me the option to decide, I’m not going to question it.

“You took my virginity tonight,” I decide.

Elijah purses his lips in a sad attempt to hide his smile. I know he finds this conversation silly, but it means a lot to me. A man’s purity isn’t seen as important as a woman’s, and I care deeply about where, when, and with who mine was lost.

“I’m happy to hear it,” he says. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss? We’ve covered the matter of my shrinking penis, my destruction of a rug, and whether or not you were a virgin. I can’t think of anything else.”

He’s teasing me. I pout as I set my damp rag on the nearest table and crawl into bed. He can joke all he wants, but I know he likes my conversations. I’m a fascinating woman, and I provide him with topics I’m sure he’s never had before.

Elijah joins me in bed, and I wiggle against him until he turns and wraps his body around mine.

I hope he’s glad he picked me to be his wife. I would be if I were him.

____

I should change the name of this book to 'Lord of the Shrinking Penis'