Billionaire Flawed 1(226)

“Come back to bed,” the woman called. Dominick looked as though he had just been punched in the stomach, and for a moment Catherine balled up her fist and considered doing just that, but then instead she remembered herself, and she spun without a word and marched back to the carriage. She climbed inside and spared a look back at Dominick, expecting him to be coming after her, but instead she saw he was simply standing in the same place he had been, and her anger grew so great it felt as though she could breathe fire.

She had Samuel take her to Duke Rotham’s manor, instead of her own home. He was home, and was let in by a servant, and he met her in his parlor. He offered her a drink, but she didn’t speak. She walked up to him, more boldly than she had ever done anything in her life, and she pressed her lips to his. He was surprised for a moment; she could feel his body tense against hers, but then he gave into it, and his arms went around her, and her kissing him became them kissing each other.

There was a lounge sofa there, long with an arm on one end and along one side, and Andrew Rotham lost himself. He had been surprised; he had only meant to kiss her, but then he was taking her up into his arms and lifting her to the sofa. He sat her upon it and then sat beside her. Their kisses were passionate, deep and long. Their tongues danced together, and he tasted her, a taste of strawberries and cream. He tasted like a man should; like Dominick never had. Bourbon, a hint of cigar smoke. It was intoxicating.

The parlor was open, anyone of the servants could walk in, and Andrew often had guests, but neither of them seemed to care at that moment. She lay back, pulling him along. He was atop of her. But then he broke away.

“We shouldn’t… the wedding night…” he breathed.

“Now,” she said. “I want to now.”

No man could resist a woman as beautiful as Catherine Dalton saying that, and so Duke Rotham didn’t even try. His hand went to her bosom, there were buttons there, but he simply grabbed the material and pulled, and the buttons popped off, and her breasts came spilling out. His hands were strong, his fingers long and packed with sinew. He groped at her, and she felt her nipples harden against each of his palms.

He bent his head and moved his hands, and his lips replaced one hand. He licked in a slow circle around one rosebud nipple, the deep red of rich wine. Catherine threw her head back. She moaned. He caught the sound with his mouth, stifled it. Her hands were at his waist, and she fumbled to open them there. Finally, she did, and his member came forth, engorged and hard and throbbing in the air along with his heartbeat.

Her delicate fingers wrapped around him, and he groaned in her ear. “Are you sure?” he whispered, and she nodded.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Andrew took a hold of her gown, pushed the skirt up over her hips. She wore hose, but they only went to her thigh so that they could be left on. Her smallclothes were another story, and these he pulled down quickly.

Her mound was exposed, slick with desire, a pink line in the midst of her pubic hair, the same auburn color as her hair. He positioned himself between her legs and then used his hand to guide himself in. He went slowly and looked down into her eyes. She looked uncomfortable, bit her lip when she felt a slight pain.

“Are you alright?” Andrew asked his bride to be, and she nodded.

“Don’t stop,” she said, her voice on the edge of pleading. And so he didn’t.

He went slowly at first, pushing into her, and then pulling out. Her hands were on his back, and then one was on his head, gathering a fistful of his hair.

He couldn’t keep the slow pace, though. She was so tight, so pristine, it excited him and his hips began to move more quickly. Catherine had never felt such pleasure, and it wasn’t long before a wave of pleasure ripped through her body, starting at her loins and then spreading to her lower stomach. Her stomach spasmed, her vagina tightened, gripping onto Andrew's cock more tightly than it had been before, and then he couldn’t hold back, and he was coming. His mind raced, and he pulled out of her as he came, and thick strings of semen erupted from the tip of his penis and landed on her exposed stomach. Andrew reached down, taking himself in his hand and finished, a quick tug on his penis and more sperm was there, sitting in a mess on her belly.

He helped her clean up, and they spent the day together. It was wonderful, Catherine couldn’t argue that. They ate lunch and rode horses afterward. He read her his favorite poetry, and she told him her favorite bawdy joke though she didn’t tell him Dominick had told it to her years ago.

At night, they lay in bed together, after their second round of lovemaking in the day. Catherine was hot, her body covered in a slick sheet of sweat. Once again, Andrew had refused to ejaculate in her, though this time she had used her hand to finish him off, and he had shifted so that his sperm would land on her breasts. In all, it was rather exciting.