Page 32 of Brutal Serpent

“I-of course not, my lord,” I said, confused. “It’s j-just that you normally don’t come in here right after dinner.”

“I want you to play for me,” St. Erth said, taking a sip of his port glass.

“I thought maybe you’d want to go see your. . .” and my voice trailed away again. It wasn’t proper for wives to say anything about anyone their husbands chose to see.

“Oh?” said St. Erth, stepping closer behind me. “Would you like it if I took a mistress?”

“You can,” I said, maybe too eagerly. “I won’t mind.”

There was a beat of silence for a moment and the hairs on the back of my neck prickled.

Then his hands curved around my neck, and I felt his cruel mouth on my throat, bending to sink his teeth into my flesh, making me squeak with surprise.

“No, little kitten, I don’t think I will,” he said coldly. “I think I’ll stay here and play with you.”

His other hand moved down the front of my body, skimming my small breasts with his big hands, my nipples unwillingly taut with the contact.

“My monthly flow—” I began hesitantly, and with a sudden motion he pulled sharply up on my guard-napkin, causing the strings holding it together to snap.

With another swift motion he yanked up my dress.

I tried to squeak and move away but he held me tight with the other hand, his arm like a bar across my chest.

My husband shoved down my undergarments, and my guard-napkin was bared before him.

He made a satisfied hum.

“Get away from me!” I moaned weakly.

But St. Erth ignored me and moved his fingers down, swiping them across my most private parts. Then he raised them into the air, turning them so the sunshine gleamed on the tiny scarlet drops.

“Healthy,” he said in a satisfied tone. “You have a healthy womb for me to fill.”

I could only watch in horrified shock as he twisted his hand again and turned his fingers over his glass of port, letting the bright drops fall into the light golden wine.

Then St. Erth tipped up his cup and swallowed the whole thing, licking his lips in a way that made uncomfortable prickly heat break out all over my whole body.

My throat felt tight, like I was choking, a heated flush spreading across my body.

What manner of gentleman was he to do such a thing?

His eyes met mine and his cruel beautiful mouth twisted up in a smile. He bent and retied the strings of my guard-napkin tight against my body.

“Go to the piano,” he ordered.

I moved, the prickly heat on my body making my skin feel uncomfortably tight, like something wanted to burst out of me. As I sat down to play, St. Erth kept his hands on me, one big hand spanning the back of my neck, his fingers spread open to cover as much of my flesh as they could. With his other hand he took a lock of my hair and began to wind around his hand until my scalp fairly ached with the sensation.

And still I played on, my fingers flying and stumbling over the keys. Music had always been my solace, something I was so proud of.

But my mind was buzzing with uncertainty and confusion.

What kind of man was he?

Why did he insist on beingsoclose to me?

Watching me play every night

Refusing to have a mistress

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