But she didn’t dare plead for her life. She knew better than to speak. Her mouth had been filled with fat phalluses more than once in the training room when she’d spoken out of turn.
She arranged herself as he so commanded. On her hands and knees, naked, before him. He stepped behind her and picked something up from the table. She could not see what it was.
A lash fell. Though she had sworn she would not, she cried out. Another and another lash fell, but not on her back as they had in previous punishments. These fell on her bottom.
She looked over her shoulder, though she knew she should not. The sheik held a thin quirt, which he flailed from one direction and then another. Each time unerringly finding her quivering flesh.
Her bottom heated. Her ardor rose. Oh please, she thought. Please.
The blows stopped. A new sensation gripped her as the sheik ran the quirt between her legs. She bit her lip to keep from moaning as the little flap of leather at the end snagged on her throbbing button. He pulled back and tapped her there, several times, each harder than the last. He continued this until, unable to hold back any longer, she cried out.
“Ah,” he murmured. “I like the sound of your cries. You may beg and plead.”
“Please, Your Eminence. Please.”
“Wider. Spread your legs wider.”
Asha froze as something touched the entrance to her sheath. The handle of the quirt. It thrust in and she howled. She knew she was not allowed to have a release. Desperately, she held back. She was so very close.
“Please, Your Eminence, please fuck me.”
All movement stopped. “What did you say?”
“Please fuck me.”
The sheik snarled and fell to his knees behind her. He forced her legs farther apart and grasped her hips and yanked her toward him and shoved his thick, hard cock deep—
“Hell.” Edward took the book from her hands and tossed it aside.
“What are you doing? It was just getting good—”
He grunted and kneeled beside her, flipping her over onto her hands and knees without a word.
It was an odd position, one she’d never considered—
She flinched as his cock, heavy and hard, shoved in. But only because the intensity, the incredible delirious pleasure stunned her.
She dropped her head, angling her bottom higher, so he could have better access. “Ah! Ah!” She cried with each thrust.
His fingers tightened painfully on her hips and he wrenched her forward and back. “Yes, yes. God. Yes.”
He reached around to pluck at her nipples, not gentle, tender teases, but hard, rough tugs. She shuddered. Then he found her pearl and rubbed it harshly as well. She was soon gasping for air, the dizzying sensation of his cock plowing in and out of her, the distraction of the delicious pain made her mind spin. He reared back and landed a smack on her bottom and she seized.
“Edward! Ed—”
“God! Yes!” He plunged in again, with a tremendous thrust, sank deep and nested there, motionless. Motionless, but for tiny little jerks of his hips, the minute flexing of his fingers on her waist as he held her in place. The near silent gasps as each wave swamped him.
He collapsed on her, bracing his bulk on trembling arms. She shivered as he kissed her neck, her spine. She groaned as he slipped out.
Oh, that had been marvelous. So feral and raw. How she wished it had gone on forever.
She turned and wrapped Edward in her arms. He tugged her down onto the Aubusson carpet and they held each other.
Really, she wished the best for Aunt Agnes. Was it wrong to hope she lingered for a long, long while?
Chapter Ten
“You really are quite talented,” Edward murmured, pulling her closer and nibbling on her shoulder. She lounged between his legs with her bottom pressed against his sated cock, sketching. They were both naked. In the folly.
Damn, it was wonderful to not fear interruptions at every turn.
“Humph.” She rubbed out a line and tried again. “For some reason, I just can’t seem to get the landscapes right.”
“No one likes landscapes. You could make a living with your portraits.”
“Ridiculous. People love landscapes. Why do you suppose there are so many of them?”
“People have to have something to put on their walls other than portraits of odious relations.”
She snickered. “Speaking from experience, Your Grace?”
He grunted a laugh. His relations were odious to be sure.
He wasn’t sure why he missed them.
Maybe it wasn’t them he missed, so much as the hubbub surrounding them. Still—he kissed her nape—this was nice.
A pleasant silence, but for the scratch of her charcoal, settled between them.
He broke it with a thought that had been weighing on his mind. “So tell me. How does a woman come to be a companion?”