Bad Brides (38 page)

‘Oh God,’ Tamra panted above him, ‘fucking God, this is so good . . .’

His cock was considerably bigger than it had felt through his trousers, which was weird – maybe it had been the angle? – but definitely a positive thing. She’d driven down on
it so hard as it entered her that she already felt bruised, but that was wonderful, just what she needed, extreme sensation: she wouldn’t care if she woke up tomorrow morning covered in
bruises just as long as she left marks on him too. And there was something about him that made her want to do that, to bite him, to spank him and have him spank her back, some wild energy that had
sparked between them the moment she touched his cock. She felt him trying to rear his hips, to fuck her like she was fucking him, and she reached down and slapped the side of his bum as hard as she
could

‘I told you not to fucking move!’ she hissed. ‘You dirty bastard, don’t you dare!’

It was a total power game: she drew that hand between her legs, starting to make herself come, knowing that he could tell what she was doing. His groans grew louder, his cock swelled inside her,
and she was so excited that she came almost straight away, her pussy throbbing around him, came again and again just to torture him, knowing that he was doing his best to hold out, until finally
she collapsed onto his chest, sank her teeth into his lower lip and whispered: ‘Come on, you bastard, shoot inside me . . . come on, you dirty bastard, do it, shoot your load . . .’

She gasped as she felt his cock swell even more, as his hips did jerk now, pumping come so hot that she could feel it through the condom, his hands grabbing onto her hips and pulling her even
further onto him: she screamed silently at how deep the tip of his cock drove for a split-second before he arched his back, grunted and went limp beneath her.

His chest hair was already sweaty under her breasts. She loved it, the dampness, the coarse hair against her sensitive skin. She bent to lick the salty sweat from the pool in his collarbone.

‘Well?’ she whispered. ‘Did I fuck your brains out?’

‘Uh-huh.’

He shifted her off him so that he could take off the condom. Brianna Jade sometimes got him to use them for a few days if she’d accidentally skipped her Pill, or even taken it late –
she was paranoid about getting pregnant before the wedding – so he assumed this was what had happened today.

‘So, um, is this what we’re doing tonight?’ he whispered; for some reason she wanted to keep it down, and the sex had been so amazing that he’d go along with pretty much
whatever she said. ‘Fucking each other’s brains out?’

Just saying the words sent a rush of such excitement through Edmund that he thought he might get hard all over again, his cock still wet with come from the last fuck.
The last fuck
.
He’d never dared use this language to a woman, had always felt that it was disrespectful. But here was Brianna Jade, somehow transformed by the stress of the day, and maybe the utter darkness
around them, into a total sex vixen, insulting him, biting him – God, his cock twitched just
thinking
about her biting him – and it had liberated something inside him he
didn’t even realize had existed.

‘Have you been drinking?’ he said, finding the gap in the curtains, tying the condom up by the faint firelight and managing, to his great satisfaction, to chuck it squarely into the
bedside wastebasket. He was still trying to work out the reason for the metamorphosis of his sexually modest fiancée into a full-blown porn fantasy woman.

She laughed deep in her throat.

‘No more than you,’ she said, which Edmund naturally took to mean ‘not much at all’.

‘So what happened to get you all—’ he began, but at that point his arm was grabbed, he was pulled fully back into the darkness of the curtained bed, and Tamra’s mouth
closed on his.

‘Stop talking,’ she said, kissing him deeply. ‘Finger me.’

Edmund’s cock surged again; her commands were delicious, her new-found confidence incredibly exciting. But he realized that he wanted not just to follow along with her wishes, but to exert
his own will too. This was the moment he needed to do it, or she would take over completely. He needed to flex his own muscles too, to give his own commands. Without even thinking about what he was
going to do, he slid his thumb into her mouth.

‘Suck it,’ he said, wondering if she would get furious at his daring to order her around as she’d been ordering him: when her warm wet lips folded over her teeth and she
started to pull on his thumb, sucking it just as he’d told her, right up to the base of the second knuckle, he groaned loudly in surprise and pleasure, his balls tingling, growing fuller. His
other hand slid down her body, squeezing each breast as he went, first tentatively, but then, as she arched wordlessly beneath him, he squeezed harder, his thumb flicking the nipples, his head
lowering to close his teeth around each one in turn, hearing her moan around his thumb as he did so: she liked it as rough as he was learning that he did, and, realizing that, he narrowed three
fingers together, parted her wet lower lips and drove the fingers inside her with barely any preliminaries.

She surged right up around his hand, fast and furious, pumping her hips against him. He rubbed his thumb against her, trying to feel what she wanted, what she needed, and apparently it was a
series of steady quick strokes, making her pump her hips right off the bed, reaching desperately for the orgasm that was just about to come, and did, and then the next one, and the next one, waves
and waves, Edmund determined not to stop although his hand was cramping, determined not to give up first, to wear her out before she wore him out, not to give in: he found a rhythm of licking and
biting her nipples that finally made her head arch right back, his thumb slipping out of her mouth as she hissed out a ragged series of ‘Fuck you!’s at the brocade tester overhead, her
pussy contracting ever more tightly around his hand. The rush of moisture around his fingers, the scent of her sweat and come was so intoxicating that he was hard as a rock again by the time she
finally subsided, trembling with the aftershock, onto the mattress.

He wasn’t sure if she was ready for him yet: probably not. He pulled himself back up to lie beside her, his own breath coming fast, but hers much louder, as he listened in utter happiness
to the physical state to which he had reduced her. Never had she responded like this to him before, nor him to her: tonight was some sort of alchemical reaction, a magic that had somehow sparked in
the pitch-black of this bed.

Maybe that was it, the fact that they were in neither of their bedrooms, that this bed was neutral ground: maybe that was why she felt so free to let go? He assumed, of course, that she’d
gone to his room first, found Dominic passed out and snoring on the fish-stained bed, and realized what must have happened; maybe the fact that she’d come to find him in the night, something
she’d never done before, had set this connection between them fizzing like an electric cable?

He wanted to ask her, but his cock was demanding some sort of attention more urgently than his brain, and he heard himself say: ‘Can I – are you ready to, um . . . ?’

‘Oh hey,’ she murmured drowsily, ‘don’t pussy out on me now, boy! Say what you want!’

She rolled over, reached down and closed her hand around his stiff cock. He felt like wailing with pleasure, but somehow managed to keep it to a more manly groan. Her voice was smug as she said
softly, ‘Well,
you’re
good to go again, aren’t you?’

‘I’m gagging for it,’ Edmund said, leaning forward, finding her mouth, plunging his tongue into it deeply, exactly what he wanted to do with his cock. Her hands came up and
twined in his sweat-curled hair, pulling it closer, kissing him back, their tongues battling for supremacy, their teeth biting each other’s lips. He buried his hands in her long hair, pulling
it, hearing her moan, pulling it harder, twisting it into a rope, really dragging it now, feeling her pressing even tighter against him. Obviously she liked this, wanted it badly, and he was hugely
grateful because he absolutely loved it, was horrified by how much he did love it, how pulling her hair made him even harder, even keener to fuck her as hard as she’d fucked him.

‘Fuck me up the ass and pull my hair!’ she said, managing to wrest her mouth from his. ‘Do it, fuck me up the ass, now,
do it
!’

Edmund had never done this before in his life, and her words made his balls tighten in soaring anticipation.

‘Go slow at first,’ she said, turning over and pushing up her bottom. ‘That’s a big cock you’ve got there. Take your time and then fuck me with everything
you’ve got.’

He didn’t need to be told twice: he was already behind her, reaching between her legs for her own moisture, working it into the cleft of her arse, again and again, making it a series of
caresses, hearing her wail and push against his hand, her face, he assumed, buried in a pillow, because her pleas of ‘Fuck me, fuck me, do it, please fuck me now’ were muffled. He took
his time until he thought he had enough lubrication not to hurt her too much, and, to be honest, enjoying torturing her, making her beg for it until she was screaming in frustration into the
pillow; and then, finally, when he couldn’t bear it any more himself, dipping the tip of his cock for a second into her pussy for extra wetness and then dragging it up to where she wanted it,
easing it in.

‘Oh Jesus fuck!’ he said as her body closed around him, the sensation of entering the tight ring of muscle incredibly intense. He could feel how snug the fit was, understood what
she’d meant, did his absolute best to go as slowly as he could, feeling as if his head was going to explode with the sheer excitement of doing something this taboo, of fucking his
fiancée in the arse. He leant forward, felt for her mane of hair, grabbed it and pulled back – Jesus, burying his cock in his fiancée’s tight arse while tugging on her
hair, starting to fuck her like she’d told him to with everything he had . . .

She was screaming her head off into the pillow now, a stream of filthy encouraging curses, calling him a dirty bastard, a fucking dirty animal, her arse pumping back against his balls, clearly
loving what he was doing to her. Emboldened, he twined her hair around one of his wrists, pulled harder, forcing her to arch up off the pillow, and with his other hand he landed a hard slap on her
arse cheek.

It sent her even more wild. She bucked beneath him frantically, and it sounded as if she’d stuffed one hand into her mouth to keep from shrieking. ‘Yes, yes, fuck yes, oh fuck yes,
do it, fucking do it!’ He heard her crying into her knuckles, and he lifted his palm and spanked her again, a whole series of spanks, her firm flesh quivering every time, his cock pounding
inside her, finding a rhythm where he drove deep, pulled out almost to the tip, landed a slap and then thrust inside her again. It was ecstasy, it was the most intense thing he’d ever done,
it was actually going to burst the top of his head right off if he didn’t tell himself he could come almost immediately, his balls were so tight it was agony . . .

He managed, somehow, to reach around, to grab her mound in his palm and find her clit with his finger and bring her off: she went absolutely limp as she came, as if all the bones in her body had
dissolved, and once he knew she was done he let go and came like a runaway train hitting the buffers at full blast. It was as if his cock actually blew up, exploded inside her for good, like a bomb
detonating. He knew exactly how she’d felt, coming, because he went limp too, collapsing on top of her with his entire weight, something he would never normally do because it was so
ungentlemanly to crush a woman like that, as if she were the mattress . . .

But then, nothing I’ve done with her has been remotely gentlemanly. And the more I acted like an animal, the more she liked it – and God, the more she acted like an animal, the
more I bloody loved it . . .

They were both running with sweat, her back wet with it, his chest plastered to her shoulder blades. His heart was pumping out of his chest, and beneath him he could hear her panting, feel her
own body heaving as she also struggled to catch her breath. His head was resting on her upper back, and he licked her sweat, tasting it, her salt mingled with his, and he felt her tremble beneath
him just at this touch of his tongue.

He had never been so reluctant to slide his cock out of a woman in his life. He held on as long as he could, till he couldn’t help it, and even then she moaned softly as his shrinking cock
eventually slipped out of her. They turned on their sides as one, and he pressed himself against her back, spooning her, trying to get as much of himself as he could against her smooth skin, her
wonderful round arse, wrapping an arm over her and closing his hand over her equally wonderfully round and heavy breast. He was going to kiss the back of her neck, but then he thought better of it,
opening his mouth instead and sinking his teeth just fractionally into the damp skin, rewarded by the sensation of her whole body trembling in response.

‘I need to sleep, tiger,’ she mumbled, already halfway there by the sound of her voice. ‘Give me a couple of hours and then I’ll suck you off.’

Edmund groaned. ‘Not fair, when we need to sleep . . .’

‘Who said I was fair?’ she mumbled.

He put his lips to her ear and whispered:

‘I bet you’ll like it if I bite your pussy when I go down on you, won’t you?’ and this time it was she who moaned, unable to help herself writhing against him.

‘Fuck yes,’ she sighed. ‘You bastard.’

And she did.

Tamra glided down the main stairs of Stanclere Hall at eleven that morning, heading for the lavish, American-style brunch which she and Mrs Hurley had planned – muffins,
waffles, bacon, pancakes, Bloody Marys, exactly what everyone would dig into gratefully after a hard night’s partying. She had a smile on her face that nearly stretched from ear to ear. It
was almost painful. But then, what part of her body didn’t ache deliciously?