Page 23 of Brutal Serpent

“And when is your cunt to be available to me?” he went on, his body motionless in the chair, his bright blue eyes boring into mine.

“Whenever you want,” I replied, my cheeks flushing as I dropped my eyes.

“Look at me when you say that, Catherine,” my husband said sharply.

“People are going to hear!” I hissed uncomfortably at him, wondering if the nice couple in the corner had interrupted their perusal of the map to stare at us.

St. Erth’s tanned hand shot out, the long fingers tightening under the table on my thigh.

“Look at me when you say that,” he repeated, his fingers stretching up my leg until they almost reached between my thighs.

I squeaked in distress and finally dared to look up at him.

“Whenis your cunt to be available to me?” he went on, his voice like steel.

“Whenever you want,” I repeated, my voice at a whisper, forcing my eyes to hold his.

Each plane in his face was perfect, the cheekbones high, his jawline flawless. I had seen the envious glances other women in the inn taproom shot at me, but if they only knew!

He was amonster.I felt sick with worry for what he intended to do to my family.

“This is mine,” he said again, and he shoved my legs apart impatiently so he could give my cunt a firm slap.

The blow was only barely muffled by my dress and I tightened my lips to smother the strangled squeak.

St. Erth dabbed both sides of his mouth with the damask cloth napkin.

“Now get up and wait in the other room until the carriage is ready to go,” he said.

We had a whole day until we got to his home of Rosewood Manor and I was determined to escape before I got there.

I didn’t want another night of his cock inside me, another night when he filled me with his release. If I had a baby, it would mean the end of my family! Wendover House would be his the moment I gave birth.

My brain worked furiously, trying to come up with a solution.

How could I escape the Viscount?

The horses and carriage were readied in a commendably short time by Liversedge and Gilly and all too soon we were off, St. Erth and I riding inside once again as I sat resentfully across from my husband.

“You look sore,” St. Erth said.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know I am sore,” I said, choking on my words. “You are a brute.”

“You will address me as befits my station,” St. Erth said, stretching one long leg out so that I was forced to practically sit on my feet to avoid him.

“You are a brute,my lord,” I retorted, feeling the anger at his inexorable power inside me again.

“Try not hiding in chicken and cow shit next time,” St. Erth said. “And you won’t get fucked in the barn.”

We rode in silence for several more miles. Every time I thought St. Erth was asleep, I’d glance over at him, hoping to see his eyes closed so I could relax and think about how to escape. But every time he was looking at me, making my skin prickle with the sensation of his gaze.

I leaned my own head against the back of the carriage. I felt sleepy, but was it even safe to sleep around the Viscount?

Just then, I heard the hasty clopping of horses outside, like riders coming up from a distance.

St. Erth didn’t seem particularly interested, but then I heard the loud, rough cries.

“Halt! Stand and deliver!”

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