Page 33 of Brutal Serpent

Demanding I sleep in the same bed with him, even on my monthly flow

I shivered uncontrollably.

When he was done with one lock of hair, he’d move on to the next, pulling it free of my pins and winding it tightly around his palm.

Then he suddenly released me and bent close to my ear.

“There’s nothing wrong with your mouth, wife,” he said. “Come over here.”

And I knew what he meant, what he wanted.

And what he would do to get what he wanted.

So I got up and went, following him to the heavy wooden chair in the corner, and I sunk to my knees before him, his cock already hard, that muscle throbbing in his jawline.

CHAPTER 18

St. Erth

Irritation crept over me like a pox, making my skin feel buzzed and unhappy, and I rode my horse Sampson to Rosewood Village to try to outrun my anger, racing through the fields and leaping low hedges with grim determination.

But I knew that wasn’t what I wanted.

When the fuckwas Catherine’s flow going to be over?

I could ride to London overnight, visit the opera house, pay a woman in the chorus to fuck me, or go find any of my beautiful former mistresses, who would be happy to spread their thighs anytime I wanted for a few pieces of jewelry.

But ever since I got married I had no desire to. The thought of another woman didn’t appeal to me. Didn’t even make my cock twitch. I tried to picture their thighs spread, cunts open, but all I could see was Catherine.Hercreamy thighs open, her delicious pink perfection spread in front of me, the way she made little moans and whimpers that sent me into an animalistic fever. My mistresses had all been sent away with generous parting gifts and I had no desire for another one.

I only wanted Catherine.

What thefuckhad that little witch done to me?

I thought with pleasure about punishing Catherine as a witch. Ripping off her dress until she was standing naked before me, checking for her the witch’s mark, then whipping her until I dunked her in the witch’s stool over and over again. Once her delicate skin was pink with rage, then I would yank her off it and fuck her wet body over and over.

My cock was throbbing, not a very comfortable thing when riding a horse, and I jumped off with a simmering rage when I got to the village. Should I go get some ale at the inn? Maybe it would distract me to get shitfaced.

I couldn’t think of anything except my wife.

Maybe I should fuck her anyway. Fuck my liver! Most doctors were quacks anyways and it probably wasn’t even true that laying with a woman on her monthly flow would make your liver bilious.

Even if it meant admitting I want my little red-haired witch for more than just breeding her. Even though I am craving her belly swollen with my baby so badly it is an ache inside me, I want more.

Suddenly an infuriating thought entered my head as I thought about my little brat wife.

Surely my sweet wife wouldn’t have dared! Surelyshe’d know how fucking furious I’d be when I found out!

Glancing around, I chose Mr. and Mrs. Elton’s snug little vicarage and I strode angrily over, pounding on the door.

It didn’t take long for a flustered servant to appear.

“My Lord!” she cried, and I brushed past her and into their sitting room.

Mr. and Mrs. Elton were sitting in the comfortable room, Mr. Elton composing a letter and Mrs. Elton at her needlework.

“How long does a woman’s flow last?” I demanded without preamble.

“Your Lordship!” said Mr. Elton, standing up hastily as Mrs. Elton’s mouth dropped open.

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