Under A Duke's Hand by Annabel Joseph Page A

you enjoy our carnal activities?”
    “I... Well...” She shook her head. “No, I
don’t enjoy them very much, if you wish to know the truth.”
    He laughed and hauled her over his lap, and
laid a couple good wallops over the birch marks from the night
before. “A lie like that deserves a sound spanking.”
    “Ow!” She squirmed to look up at him.
“Please, it wasn’t a lie.”
    “Wasn’t it?” He squeezed her bottom and slid
his palm between her legs. His fingers came away wet. “I think it
was a lie.” He spanked her a few more times, playful smacks as she
fidgeted across his thighs. “Lying is a very bad habit, and
certainly a punishable offense. You remember what I told you.” He
paused to molest her again, drawing some of the moisture from her
quim up between her bottom cheeks. “Bad wives earn bad
consequences.” He pressed a fingertip against the tight, pink bud
of her arsehole to drive his point home. She tried to wiggle off
his lap, but he held her fast. “Apologize for me now, very
prettily. ‘I’m sorry I lied to you, husband.’ ”
    “I didn’t lie,” she insisted. “I told you my
feelings were very confused.”
    “Why confused? Don’t you like to feel
pleasure? Tell the truth, Guinevere.” He nudged her off his lap and
onto her back, and laid over her. The spanking and this intimate
contact had him going rigid all over again. “Say it to me. I
love to be fucked. ”
    “I can’t say that.” The poor woman was
scandalized. “That is a terribly coarse word.”
    “Say it, or I won’t let you come for the rest
of the week. In fact, I won’t let you have your pleasure for the
next six months.” That was a bluff. He enjoyed her abandoned
reactions too much to deny her. He was playing with her, or trying
to. He wished she would smile instead of looking on the verge of
tears.
    “All right then,” he said. “If it’s too
difficult for you to admit it, give me a kiss instead. None of
those reluctant ones either. Kiss me the way you kissed me in the
meadow, like a wanton fairy queen.”
    He waited. He didn’t pucker his lips or bow
his head to her, or do anything but gaze at her expectantly,
forcing her to take the first step.
    She shifted beneath him. “If I kiss you, then
what will you do?”
    He pressed his thickening cock against her
quim. “Surely you know the answer to that. Do you want me to make
you feel good, Gwen? Very, very warm and aroused and good?” She bit
her lip and turned away. “Answer me,” he prompted. “Or kiss me.
Either one.”
    He waited. After a moment, she turned back
and reached to trace a tendril of his hair, a tentative gesture
that seemed deeply erotic. Her fingers trailed along his neck. She
kissed him, whispery-soft, at the side of his lips.
    “A promising start,” he murmured. “Give me
more.”
    She blinked at him, then tilted her head to
kiss him on the mouth.
    Let her lead. For once. It was hard to
stay still, to not to push her arms back and drive inside her the
way he wished. The way she wished, whether she could admit
it or not.
    “Show me what you want,” he said. “If you
can’t say it, show me. Arch your hips and let me come inside you.
Marital intimacy is not a shameful or repulsive thing, and there is
nothing wrong with you for enjoying it.”
    “But I don’t enjoy—”
    “You do. I’ve felt you coming, Guinevere.
Don’t tell lies.”
    He pressed into her pussy, kissing her lips
and chin and neck and shoulders, all the lovely, compelling
features that comprised his wife. He went gently this time.
Sometimes he liked sex raw and roughshod, but sometimes he liked it
sweet.
    “You’re so sweet,” he whispered. “Let me hold
you.”
    He gathered her close, sinking inside her
warmth. She was so tight and hot, so wet. He loved the way she
squeezed his cock, loved the maddeningly erotic way she moved her
hips, but he also loved the way she clung to him. Beautiful, sweet
girl. He didn’t want her to suffer, not when they