She stayed still. He pulled back and thrust into her again. Her tightness tantalized him. She caressed his erection with wanton sweetness as he carefully

increased the speed and force of his thrusts. Each inward drive coaxed a whimper from her and an answering squeeze of her sex until it overwhelmed him with pleasure. Christopher clutched his wife's hip, shuddering and gasping

in the hardest, longest, most earth-shaking climax he'd ever experienced. He groaned as his seed spilled, filling her belly.

And then he gently withdrew from her clenching sex, lifting her from the pillows and arranging her on her bottom on the bed.

She winced as her bruised buttocks landed on the sheets. “What are you

doing?”

“Making a bloodstain. Stay there.” To keep her still, he kissed her mouth.

“Well, love, what did you think of that?”

“Interesting,” she said, and then giggled a bit hysterically.

“Did you hate it?” he asked, now feeling uncertain. Was it bad of me to ask

for my own satisfaction? Was that selfish?

“Of course not,” she replied. She stroked his cheek. Then another thought chased across her face. “Um, it won't always hurt like that, will it?”

“No,” he promised. “I'll give you some time for the soreness to subside

before I take you again. After you recover inside, the penetration will feel good

for both of us.”

She considered, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “Have you done this

often before?”

“Fairly often, yes,” he admitted.

“Ah.”

“But we're married, sweet girl. From now on my only partner is you.

“I doubt I can live up to what you've had.”

Not doubting my fidelity, but her own worth. She's so uncertain of her value,

but she can't be more wrong. Her innocent willingness had been quite pleasing.

Giving her a tender smile, he said, “Actually, my dear, it was perfectly lovely.

Equal to anything I've done before. Remember, you're mine, my wife. That's very special.” It had been special, he realized, and much more powerful than he had expected.

She smiled. Then she yawned hugely. “Sorry.”

“Think nothing of it. Would you like to sleep for a while?”

“Yes please.”

She stretched out on the bed and Christopher covered her with the blankets,

noting in passing that they had succeeded in making an obvious mark—her

virgin blood mixed with his semen—on the sheet. Proof. Excellent. He kissed her cheek, then realized there was something important he had to do. Quickly washing himself, he pulled on clean garments, headed out into the hallway, and

summoned the hotel's housekeeper, Mrs. Bristol and his valet, Mackenzie.

Within moments of him ringing the bell, a quiet scratch on the door revealed

a plump, smiling woman in a gray dress, silver side curls bouncing around her face from under a white mob cap. Close on her heels, Mackenzie entered the sitting room, his uniform and hair rumpled, yawning hugely.

“Sorry, boss,” the man said, the sounds of Yorkshire laying so heavily on his

voice, Christopher almost couldn't understand him. It's always worse when he's

tired.

“Not to worry,” Christopher replied. “When did you get back?”

“Around two in the morning,” Mackenzie said, rubbing his eyes. Their

redness made the cornflower irises look even brighter. The young man tugged at

his uniform.

“Is your mother better?” Christopher asked.

“Aye,” he replied, rumpling his already-messy reddish hair so it stood up like

the flame of a candle.

Christopher nodded in acknowledgment and got straight to the point. “I have

a difficult request to ask of you both. I have married a lovely young woman who

has suffered more than anyone should ever have to suffer. The abuse she has endured is beyond imagination. But she's mine now, and I will not allow her to

be harmed again. As of a few minutes ago, we were married beyond all

redemption. Do you understand?”

They nodded, faces wreathed in questions.