My Wife, My Rules – 34. chapter

The carriage turned off the road, slipped into the shadow of the estate buildings, and slowed. The wheels finally stopped shaking. Aiden knocked once against the wall and the coachman understood. The wooden stable gates opened. The carriage rolled inside and the gates fell shut behind it at once. Darkness. Silence. The damp smell of hay and sweat.

Aiden rose and looked at Tess. She lay still, but her eyes burned. Silenced, bound, and yet she would not give him that. Not even a look. He slid his hands beneath her thighs and back. For a moment, he braced her against his knee and lifted her. She was light. Her body resisted now only through tension, taut as a string. He jumped down from the carriage onto the packed dirt of the stable floor, exactly where the paving split. No one saw them. The coachman said nothing. The horses snorted and shifted away.

He moved between the pillars, then toward the dark rear wall. He touched a stone protrusion and the heavy door into the passage opened slowly. He closed it behind them. The stable stench gave way to the dampness of the narrow stone passage, where only the sound of his steps echoed. The passage was tight and dark, but he knew it by heart. Tess stiffened in his arms. Like an animal sensing an open cage. Where she had lain quiet before, she started thrashing again. She tried to wrench free, struck the wall, dug her nails into his cloak.

“Don’t start again,” he growled softly, without slowing.

Defiance. Sudden and physical. She lifted her knee, tried to strike his chest, twisted until her bound hands slammed into his shoulder. Aiden clenched his jaw. He shifted her higher and pressed her to his chest like a beast he knew would resist.

“You will hurt yourself,” he warned. “And then you will beg me to spare you.”

She panted. The muffled sound from her mouth, bound with the scarf, throbbed at his temples. Step by step, he climbed upward. And still she jerked against him. One last spasm of resistance. He stepped into the alcove at the end of the corridor. He laid his hand on the inner lock and the entrance opened quietly. The room lay in dim light, exactly as he had left it. The bed neatly made, the windows covered, dusk outside.

Her body still jerked in his arms, but not as fiercely. He stepped to the bed and laid her onto the mattress. Smoothly. Precisely. Like something he owned and did not wish to damage.

Skin drawn tight beneath the scarf, hands bound, ankles bound as well. Her breathing was hard and sharp, but she did not look at him. Not once. He lingered only a moment, then turned and walked slowly to the door. He turned the key and touched the handle, carefully, almost silently.

He stopped and checked the space in silence. The door to the ladies’ bedchamber stood closed. The corridor was quiet. No footsteps. No whispers. No hands brushing wood. Only emptiness, as if the house held no one at all. He stood there a few seconds longer, listening. Then he shut and locked it.

He turned back to Tess. She was sitting up, tugging at the knot around her ankles. Clumsy fingers, but persistent. One last tug and the binding loosened. Suddenly both legs were free.

“No, no, no!” he called, and in a second he was there. He straddled behind her and pulled her back against him. One motion, one breath, and she was trapped. He wrapped his arms around her. Not gently. He bent her bound arms at the elbows and pressed them to his chest. His forearm crossed hers, his hand closed fully around her wrists. Hard. Complete. She could not move. Not even twitch. Her body folded under the tension. She breathed fast, loud, uneven. He caught one of her legs beneath his thigh. The other slipped free of him and kicked furiously.

“Hey, hey, hey. Easy,” he murmured.

His voice was low. Quiet. He did not raise it at all.

Tess fought him. Furiously. Stubbornly. With her whole body. She bit down on the scarf, lifted her hips, writhed in his lap, but he held her.

“Shhh, little cat. Quietly now.”

He leaned to her ear, breathed into her hair, pressed his palm tighter around her wrists.

“You are with me now. You are safe.”

She twisted, tried to rise, but his body blocked her. He rested his chin on the crown of her head, closed his knees to her hips, kept his hands exactly where they were. He did not give a millimeter.

“Quiet. Shhh. You are with me.”

Tess hissed into the scarf. One leg tore free of him. She lifted it sharply, tried to kick again.

“No,” he repeated gently. He caught her again. And held her.

“Just calm down. Everything is all right. I’ve got you,” he whispered steadily, in the very tone that always pulled her back from panic. Calm. Kind. Patient. Her breathing raced. Her chest rose against his forearm. Her toes rubbed the sheet. But the movement lost its force. Aiden did not move. He simply held her wrists with one hand. So firmly she could not move even her fingers.

“Shhhhhh,” he repeated. His voice was warm, enclosing, like a blanket over a frozen body.

Tess lifted once more. Tried to slip from between his thighs. To escape. But in his strong hold she only pressed deeper into his chest.

“Try to relax,” he murmured. “Try doing nothing for a moment.”

His lips brushed her temple. Like innocence. Like the end of resistance.

“You are safe.” He whispered the words so softly they nearly vanished in the room. But Tess heard them. Clearly.

She tightened her thighs and tried to shift away. She failed, but the movement dragged her skirts up over her knees. Aiden noticed at once. He froze. In breath. In thought. In time.

Then his hand moved. Along her thigh. Gentle. Quiet. Tess shuddered immediately beneath the touch. And in that instant she erupted. More violently than before. Her leg nearly slipped free, her whole body twisted, her head fell back. A muffled sound tore from her throat. A mix of protest, horror, shame. And something else. Aiden caught her thigh. With his whole hand. Gentle. Aroused. Certain.

“Easy, little cat,” he whispered again. “Easy.”

He breathed against her neck, her hair, her shoulder. His hand slid higher along her thigh. Tess tried to lift her hips. He used it. His palm slipped beneath her skirts to her belly and then, swift as lightning, under her linen.

She resisted, but he did not press her back down. He only buried his fingers in the curls. She refused to stop fighting, tried to kick again, but his precise touches drained her strength quickly. He found her most sensitive place and teased her, waiting until she yielded. Her body tensed, but no longer fled. Every new touch sent a tremor through her hips. Her legs ceased resisting. Her pelvis, instead of pulling away, began to lift on its own. Her muscles loosened, she leaned back into him, and sobbed. Not from fear. Not entirely. And Aiden drew her closer. Just a fraction. His knee braced at her side, his chest to her back, his hand still between her thighs. And when she tensed again, it came with a gasp.

He pressed his face into her hair. With his fingers, he began to ready her gently for her first orgasm. He felt her hot breath, ever quicker, and savored it. As always, she tensed a little when he touched just right. He pulled her tighter and with his fingers brought her to her first orgasm. Then, without pause, a second. She was still reeling when he loosened his hold a little. He freed his dick from his trousers, lifted her skirts, pulled down her linen, and settled her onto himself. She did not resist, but he still held her firmly, this time to guide her gently on him. The shallow movements did nothing to stop Tess from coming apart in his arms a third time, and he could come inside his wife again.ť. Celkom plytké pohyby vôbec nebránili tomu, aby sa mu Tess zlomila v rukách aj tretíkrát a on do svojej ženy mohol zase striekať.