Page 50 of Brutal Serpent

When I didn’t reply, he laughed.

“You won’t get a sweet husband,” he said. “So don’t expect one.”

I was relieved when the servants came to offer us refreshments.

But the afternoon passed pleasantly enough, the Eltons eventually scooting closer to compare drawings and plan new places to sketch.

“Until next time?” Mrs. Elton said as they packed up to go.

The unspoken assumption:when your husband isn’t here.

“I’d love that,” I replied.

St. Erth said nothing, still lying beside me.

With one flick of his finger, he sent the servants home too.

I moved to pack up my things, and I saw St. Erth stretch out his neck to look at the sky.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” he asked. “Up against this tree or on the ground?”

I couldn’t help letting out a squeak, even though I knew he must be joking.

“That’s not funny. I don’t want that at all.”

He moved his head down to look at me.

“I didn’t ask if you wanted it, brat. I askedhowyou wanted it. Or I’ll do it how I want and you might not like that at all.”

Since he was lying down and looked so relaxed I still didn’t think he was serious, but I wanted to be away from his jokes and mockery at my expense.

I scrambled hastily away, rolling to my knees and clutching my pencils and art supplies under my arm.

But before I could go very far, St. Erth had moved unimaginably fast, rolling to his feet and striking like the snake he was, scattering all my paints and pencils as he knocked me onto my back.

“Youdareto try to get away from me?” he hissed in my ear.

“Everyone’s still around,” I whimpered, my body ground into the grass of the meadow.

“No, they aren’t,” he laughed contemptuously. “And I want to fuck my wife.”

“Can’t you wait until we get home?” I whimpered, afraid of what the servants would think.

“No,” he said. “You’re my wife and I want you now. All of you.”

Then he flipped me over on my hands and knees, grabbing the cup of wine he was drinking.

“Stay still,” he ordered. “Or I’ll make you get down on your knees during the next Sunday service.”

The threat had me frozen in place and he twisted up my skirts and poured wine all over my backside! I squeaked, but he gave a warning grunt, and I forced my legs to be still.

He bent down and I felt his wicked tongue lick down my crack, drinking the wine and sucking at my very asshole!

He was disgraceful, wicked, an unnatural man and most certainly not a gentleman!

What was even worse was that I found the sensationpleasurable, his rough tongue twisted sideways, circling a part of me that I had always thought was most shameful. But my husband’s noises were low, lascivious, hungry as he sucked and licked my asshole.

"I love you,” the Viscount said, and my cheeks burned with confusion.

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