"I told you to taste it," Adrian repeated, his voice was cold and deliberate as he stared down into her eyes. His grip in her hair did not ease even a fraction, "Not to swallow it whole."
He wasn’t going to let her off that easily.
"You do not get to satisfy yourself just yet. Not after everything."
Adrian let the silence stretch for a moment, forcing her to dwell on his words.
"You poured boiling stew on me at dinner."
"You called me trash in front of the entire family."
"You insulted me right in front of my mother, and my sister."
He leaned in closer, his eyes flashing with a vengeful light, "You have not earned the right to simply take what you want from me."
Whle the system wanted him to claim Beatrice, Adrian did not just want her body; that would be too simple. He wanted the proud, arrogant woman from the dining hall thoroughly dismantled until there was absolutely nothing left but complete surrender.
"Look at me," Adrian commanded, sliding his finger under her chin and forcefully tilting her head up to meet his gaze.
Beatrice looked up, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.
The black silk nightgown had slipped off one shoulder, giving a full view of her tempting breasts and her erect nipples poking out of her gown.
"You called me a cripple," Adrian said, his grip tightened against her chin, "You called me trash. Just a minute ago, you actually thought that small, fragile life of yours could threaten mine."
He watched her beautiful face closely as profound shame warred with her raw desire.
"And now, you want to conveniently forget all of that. You want to simply put me in your mouth and call the night finished. You want the easy way out."
He paused, letting a mocking smile touch his lips.
"Tell me, Aunt Beatrice... What manner of conduct is that for an esteemed lady of this house? Say it. Tell me you are nothing but a desperate slut for the family trash’s cock." Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping dot com.
"Adrian, please," her voice cracked, sounding incredibly frail, "Do not make me say that. I am your aunt. Think of your uncle. Think of the prestigious name we all wear."
"I am sorry, Aunt," Adrian whispered suddenly, the harshness completely vanishing from his tone.
His expression softened, and he let go of her before pulling away as if the dutiful nephew had finally remembered his proper manners.
"Huh?!" For a fleeting second, she actually thought her pathetic pleas had managed to reach him. Relief washed across her, and her tense shoulders dropped.
But when her gaze travelled to his rock hard cock, just a few inches away from her face, somewhere deep in her stomach, a vacuum formed.
Before she could even decide if she was relieved or terrified, Adrian’s palm shot up and clamped viciously around her throat, squeezing just hard enough to instantly cut off her air supply.
The fleeting relief died, and her eyes flew wide in panic.
Her trembling hands instinctively flew up to catch at his wrist again, though her grip was noticeably weaker this time.
"Were you thinking of my uncle when you moaned my father’s name on this very bed?" Adrian whispered, leaning in until his face was mere inches from hers, "When you practically begged Arthur to sit and watch while my father took you in front of him? I do not think so."
The words drove into her mind like rusty nails. She couldn’t even shake her head in denial; she couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.
"If you do not want me to walk straight out that door and let the Duke toss you into the servant quarters to scrub stone floors until your hands crack and bleed, I suggest you listen to me."
He finally loosened his grip just enough to allow a thin sliver of air through. Beatrice gasped violently, the air rushing back into her burning lungs as a ragged, desperate sound echoed from her throat.
Her eyes shone with unshed tears, and her mouth trembled uncontrollably. The esteemed lady of House Ravencrest was still kneeling on the cold floor, but the lady was no longer in charge of the woman.
"I... I am a slut," She finally managed to choke out, the confession dragging itself out from her throat, "I am a desperate slut who wants the family’s trash cock."
Adrian smiled... A pleased expression, looking exactly like a strict tutor whose stubborn pupil had finally learned a difficult lesson set at dinner.
"Again. And louder this time. I want this entire room to hear exactly what the Commander’s wife truly is."
"I am a desperate slut!" Beatrice cried out loudly, her voice breaking under the weight of the degradation, "And I want your cock! Give it to me." Visit g.com for the full chapter.
That anguished cry echoed sharply off the grand family crest carved above the hearth. Her face burned with heat, yet, despite the overwhelming humiliation, her body instinctively leaned toward him, driven by a starvation she could no longer deny.
"Please, Adrian," she begged, the tears finally spilling over, "I need to feel that deep inside me. I have been wanting it for months... for years. I simply cannot bear this for another night."
"Very well said," Adrian murmured, finally letting go of her throat. The red marks of his fingers remained branded on her pale skin.
He dropped smoothly to his knees right in front of her, bringing his face level with her chest. Without a moment’s hesitation, his hands closed firmly over both of her heavy breasts, gripping them roughly through the silk.
"Ummm," a loud, breathless sound ripped from her lips.
His hands were still cold, and her warm skin jumped at the stark contrast. The silk bunched tightly between his fingers as he squeezed her hard, kneading the soft flesh.
He pushed her breasts together, his thumbs ruthlessly rubbing back and forth over her stiff, aching nipples until they practically burned with sensitivity.
"Fuck. Yes!" Her head fell back, exposing her throat. She arched her spine, pushing her chest even deeper into his hands, as if trying to force him to take more, to take all of the agonizing months she had wasted on a husband who refused to even look at her.
"Did you like that, Aunt?" Adrian teased and before she could even form an answer, he leaned in and crashed his mouth against hers, forcing his tongue deep inside.
"Oh! God! Fuck yes!" Beatrice moaned through the kiss and she kissed him back with a starved rush.
Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and she rubbed her body desperately against his, as if the sheer closeness alone could finish the job her husband had abandoned.
As they kissed, his cold hand slid slowly down the nightgown over her stomach, finally finding the soaking wet pussy.
She bucked forward instantly, her hips frantically chasing his fingers, a broken, desperate sound getting trapped between their locked mouths.
"Please," She begged against his lips, panting heavily, as Adrian rubbed his fingers along her clit.
"Fuck me, Adrian!"