Provoked (Forbidden Crush #2)

Chapter 12

12

Something wicked takes hold of me, overriding the voice in my head saying this is a really bad idea. But there’s something about Ingrid’s defiance, the sparkle in her eye that has me needing to tame her. To prove to her once and for all that she would be wise to pay more heed to my advice and actually listen .

That, and the little kiss from earlier hasn’t left my mind. There’s an urgency to my craving for another, deeper taste. And as she said, she’s not a teenager anymore. It’s still hard to see her as my wife, but I’m waking up to the fact that she’s a beautiful, sensual young woman.

Except I do have some scruples. I’m not going to sink into her and show her what it’s really all about. Just give her enough of a taste to prove my point. That, and I don’t have the energy to fuck her properly, assuming I had lost all sense of right and wrong. Which I haven’t, I don’t think. My body may still be weak, but my heart knows what a blessing this time with her really is. And maybe this is something we both need, to fan that spark I saw in her eyes until it either bursts into flame or sputters out completely. She deserves to be treated with respect — and that includes acknowledging that she’s now an adult.

I draw Ingrid down onto the bed by one hand. She comes willingly, albeit biting her lip with princess-like pearly teeth. I know now that her hesitancy is more to do with inexperience than genuine reluctance.

Freeing her tortured lower lip with my thumb, I claim her mouth as gently as I can. Without an audience, there’s no need to keep it restrained, except Ingrid’s innocence is plain as day. But she doesn’t pull back as I half expect her to. After a brief moment of shock, her fingers twine through my hair to grip my scalp. She’s pliant in my arms as my tongue insistently tangles with hers. Her fingers spasm so gently I pull back to find her eyes glazed with pleasure. I bite down softly on her lower lip and her mouth immediately opens for me. But instead, I lightly suck her lip between mine, feeling her body begin to tremble against me. It’s intoxicating and my cock surges with need that will have to be denied. I slide one hand beneath the thin skirt of her dress. Ingrid stills, but my hand keeps moving upward. I’m waiting for her to firmly tell me no rather than guess at what her hesitancy might mean. There’s nothing to be gained by playing to her nerves. A moment later, she sighs into my mouth and opens her legs.

My growl of satisfaction doesn’t go unnoticed. Ingrid lifts one hand to pinch the back of my neck in admonishment. I chuckle even as my fingers slide her panties to one side. Even her skin is soft and innocent. But her pussy is wet and needy. She shifts more urgently against me as I sink one finger into her channel. She mumbles something unintelligible, so I free her lips so I can hear clearly.

“Ingrid? ”

“More, I want more, Justin,” she moans but only after I ceased my onslaught to force the words out of her.

“Hmm. And what do I get if I give your greedy pussy another finger? Will you follow my orders like a good girl?”

Her eye roll tells me nothing in life is that easy. It was worth a try. “Then will you at least agree to stay inside and keep the doors locked until Margot is located?”

Ingrid hesitates and then gives a reluctant nod. I push a second finger into her narrow channel. It’s a tight fit. Her head shifts restlessly on the pillow next to me as I slowly pump my two fingers back and forth. Her hands have moved down to my shoulders but since we’re on our sides her right hand is curled around the base of my neck. For some reason, I like it there. My hand increases the pace, even as my thumb seeks and finds her hard little nub.

Her thighs clamp down on my hand when I rub it. “Relax, baby. You can take some more. Show me how grown up you are,” I murmur in her ear. Reluctantly and oh so slowly, her thighs loosen their grip. I wedge a third finger in her slick opening. Her moans are becoming more frantic, but the evil side of me wants everything from her. To be the first to claim her this way. I want, no, I need, to hear her soft cries and moans as she cums. I give her fast but shallow thrusts with my hand. She’s too tight to take all three fingers very deep, but I compensate by giving her throbbing little clit extra attention. I claim her mouth again even as I press down on her clit with my thumb. My fingers sink in just a fraction deeper and she shatters with a cry of surprise that makes me feel ten feet tall. I continue kissing her deeply, even as her pussy spasms endlessly on my fingers. When her inner muscles finally relax, I pull my hand from her body.

I make sure Ingrid is watching as I suck her juices from my fingers one by one. I admit, I was expecting her to be shocked and dismayed. Instead, her expression is intrigued. “Taste yourself, Ingrid,” I order, pushing my third and as yet unlicked finger against her lips.

Slowly, her mouth opens and I slide it in. “Now suck,” I command. Hesitantly she does, even as her pale lashes descend on her cheeks. A blush heightens their color. She’s feeling out of her depth. Good.

Unfortunately for me, the hesitant licks and soft suction on my finger are about to send my jealous cock over the edge. It goes without saying I’ve had a hard-on since she attempted to argue with me, but this is a next level kind of torture. Reluctantly, I pull my finger from her hot little mouth. Ingrid sighs and buries her face against my neck. I nestle her more closely against me, stroking my hand gently down her back.

“You like it when I order you to do dirty things, don’t you, Ingrid?” I tease her gently, feeling myself slip into a new and more playful role with her. She stiffens in automatic response and then relaxes again.

“Maybe,” she admits without lifting her head.

“Then if you’re a very good girl tomorrow, I might let you suck my cock. He’s feeling neglected.”

Her blush deepens despite her face still being hidden against me. She moves to pull away, but I hold her tight with one hand. “You can go, but I want you here with me tonight, understand?”

Finally, she lifts her head to give me a confused look. “Go fix dinner or whatever is on your mind, but I want you back in this bed by eight, Ingrid.” I don’t leave any hint of a question in my command. Ingrid’s eyes widen, but eventually she nods and slowly sits up. I watch her closely to make sure I didn’t take things too far, but she moves easily enough. Her face, though, is still pink with heightened emotion. Almost as an afterthought, she snags her book from the corner of the nightstand before escaping from the room.

What was that? Oh, I know the literal definition, but I guess I mean why? I need a minute to regroup because this was a whole new Justin and my gut is telling me this is the genuine one. He’s a mix of gentle and stern, considerate and arrogant and it feels like a very volatile cocktail. The kind that can get you addicted before you even notice you’ve drained the glass.

All these thoughts race through my head when I pause at the head of the stairs, waiting for my equilibrium to come back to center. But it’s racing around speculating about Justin and what he wants from me now. Or is willing to take… So instead, I head downstairs slowly and into the kitchen to make a soothing cup of tea. I’ll worry about dinner later. Right now my entire body is tingling with newfound sensations and I need to process. I know I always said I wanted Justin to see me as a grown woman, but now that he does… I’m both excited and insecure about meeting those expectations.

Which reminds me, I wanted to read the big love scene between the duke and Kitty to see what set Justin off so badly. I normally avoid skipping ahead unless I don’t plan to finish the book, but this is an emergency.

Kitty squinted into the dim light cast by the candlestick clutched in Rafe’s broad hand. He was standing at the side of her bed, clad in a forest green dressing gown and looking grim. “Let’s get this over with, Kitty.”

That made her sit up abruptly. “Get what over with?” she finally asked, although she had an unpleasant suspicion.

“Consummating the marriage,” he growled, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

Kitty sighed and only with considerable restraint refrained from rolling her eyes. “No. Not until you can muster a little more enthusiasm for the task.”

Rafe winced and set the candle on the nightstand. Kitty gulped slightly when he moved to unfasten his robe. She snaked out a hand to stop him, jumping slightly when once again she felt that electric current when their hands touched.

“Rafe,” she said softly, like she was trying to calm a wild dog, “sit down.”

He hesitated, but must have seen something in her serious expression sufficient to heed her request. Abruptly he sat on the edge of the bed, his robe now spreading to reveal muscular bare thighs. Kitty dragged her eyes away from this fascinating sight.

“Is this how you approach one of your paramours?”

Rafe looked shocked. “What do you know of paramours? And why do you think I have any?”

“Don’t you?” She was mightily entertained at the thought of a virginal and reclusive duke. Plus, she knew it was a complete falsehood. “You forget that one of my dearest friends from school is the youngest sister of Davina, the Marchioness of Oxbridge. I think you’ll have no trouble agreeing that Davina knows a lot about paramours.” Kitty bit her lip to keep from laughing. The Lady Davina was known as a high-flyer throughout all of society. It was said that her husband even knowingly introduced her to many of her lovers in the hopes of securing lucrative tenants for his various rural estates. And part of the lease agreement was a visit from the Marchioness at a very select house party at least once a year. Thankfully, she had never heard Rafe’s name mentioned in association with Davina’s and he certainly wasn’t in need of more lands. Davina’s stables, as they were referred to, were full of second and third sons blessed with fortunes but no land.

“Well, you shouldn’t,” Rafe grumbled, making Kitty finally roll her eyes.

“And why not? Nobody tells them to just get it over with. From all accounts, unless the gentleman is completely without skill, they quite enjoy the marital act.” Kitty arched an eyebrow in challenge, daring him to contradict her.

“That’s different,” he muttered. “The lower classes…”

“Please. Davina is as well bred as the best of them! And she said…” Rafe cut her off with a shocked hand to her lips.

“When the hell did you ever meet Lady Davina?” he growled, finally lifting his hand so she could answer.

Kitty sighed a little. She quite liked the feeling of his warm fingers on her face. “She came to visit Georgie when she was in the area. She had a lot to say on the rights of women to enjoy what comes most naturally. And not to let overly proper husbands dictate things like always wearing nightclothes.” Before he could realize what she was up to, Kitty swept up the tail of her nightdress and somehow wriggled out of it before Rafe could manage more than a strangled moan. She smiled up at him. “Now, what have you to say to that?”

My tea is growing cold at my elbow as I read. I know it, but I can’t avert my attention from the page. I really have no idea what got Justin so riled about ‘unrealistic’ lovemaking. Unless I just haven’t gotten to that part, yet? Or did he somehow think that I had no idea what an orgasm felt like simply because I’d avoided having one with a partner? Admittedly, the one Justin gave me was exponentially more exciting than anything I’d experienced before, but I was at least familiar with the event.

I sigh and set the book aside to warm my tea in the microwave. The little clock on the appliance catches my attention. It’s nearing six, so maybe I had better think about dinner. Studying the contents of the refrigerator, I decide on grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. It might be too light a meal for Fred, but Justin still has a limited appetite while he’s recovering, so I can add some ham or something to Fred’s. I’ll ask him when he comes in.