Millicent sat at the edge of the bed, wearing her nightgown and a robe. For the last five minutes she'd stared at Arthur's lower legs. He'd come in without saying a word and took a seat in the armchair, as every evening. She heard the whiskey bottle clang when he placed it back on the table, the sound dinned in her ears. The house was silent as a grave and she wished to be dead, feeling all alone in the world, helplessly at the mercy of her husband. She flinched as he got up and lit one of the candles on the chest of drawers.

"Please," she said, "let us not pretend romance where is none. We fulfill a contract, that's all."

"As you wish," Arthur shrugged and sat down again, clearing his throat: "Well then. Take off your clothes."

She looked up, seeing him sitting in his armchair, a glass of whiskey in his hand, a small smile on his lips. He was fully clothed, he'd only loosened his bow tie.

"Arthur ...," she started but he lifted his hand, gesturing her to be quiet.

"You don't want romance, Millie, you're just fulfilling a contract. As far as I know, making a woman pregnant requires not a single word. So, we can do this without talking. No romance, no talking. Just strip, lay back, spread your legs and we're done in next to no time."

Her lower lip quivered and she started crying, not able to hold back the tears.

"Arthur, please ...," she sobbed, wiping over her cheeks.

"Please, what?"

"Can ... can I ... we ... have romance, please?"

"Sure," Arthur answered and got up to light some more candles.

This time he didn't sit down again, he stood right in front of her, pulling her up. His embrace was warm and somehow comforting.

"You're not alone in this, Millie." He said and opened the robe, stripped it off her shoulders and threw it on the ground. "Look at me, come on."

His pointer finger lifted her chin and she noticed the serious look on his face. She held his gaze while he caressed her shoulders, giving her hold and comfort in one.

He bowed his head to kiss her, ever so slowly. It didn't feel unpleasant to have him this near, not when he was calm, well-adjusted and sober. It felt like the first, and until today only, kiss they shared, on their wedding day in church. Exciting, strange, intimate, dangerous and safe at the same time. She opened her mouth obediently when she felt his tongue on her lips. She'd witnessed John and Esme kissing this way and both seemed to like it, so she gave it a try. Once her mind wandered back from John and Esme (and wasn't it really weird to think about another couple right now? Or was it a kind of ... getaway?), she noticed that she kissed him back, that her body took over while her mind was busy. Her pleasure grew when Arthur grabbed the back of her head with one hand and placed the other one on her bum. The low groan coming out of his throat excited her more than she could have ever imagined. He broke the kiss, took a step back and rubbed over his mouth before opening his waistcoat and his shirt.

"Strip," he demanded, his voice even more gravelly and darker than normal. "Take that bloody gown off."

Open-mouthed she watched him stripping, without being able to move an inch, and once he stood naked her eyes dropped downwards and sprang upwards again, looking in his face. She noticed the half smirk in the corners of his mouth and closed her eyes for a second, gulping. She flinched as he bent down, grabbing the seam of her nightgown and lifted it.

"Arms up, Millie," he said lowly and once again, she did as she was told.

Her gown joined the robe on the floor, her underpants followed.

"Look at you, darling, a sight to behold," he whispered, smiling, leading her carefully backwards, guiding her to lie down. "Like this, aye. I wanted to see you naked and spread out before me for so long, Millie."

"You ... you aren't irritable right now, are you?" She asked while he watched her silently, standing in front of her marital bed, naked, his arms folded.

He shook his head, licking over his lips, the look on his face reminded her at the lion whose feeding she'd once watched at a fair.

"It's ... it's pretty cold. Can I tuck myself in?"

"No," he said and placed his fingers on her right foot, wandering with his fingertips upwards, over her shin to her knee, thigh, groin – which made her whimper and flinch – over her belly to her nipple. Everywhere he touched, her skin shimmered with liquid heat.

"Fucking beautiful," he mumbled and crawled over her, spreading her legs in the process, making room for him.

He held his weight with his left arm, his right hand petting over her collarbone, down on her arm to her hand. Millicent took a deep breath as he lowered his upper body and kissed a trail from her neck to her breast. The silence in the room felt unbearable, the feeling of trembling uncertainty was too much, so strong that the positive feelings Arthur caused were eclipsed.

"Arthur," she whispered, just to break the silence.

"Hm?" He didn't look up, he kissed and nibbled on the swelling of her breast.

"When I was very young I ... watched my father in bed with my mother. I heard them talking and she desperately begged him to pull out."

"And?" Arthur asked and sucked one of her nipples in his mouth, a contact, a sensation that made her gasp.

"Oh! What did she mean?"

"Take a guess, sweetheart ...," Arthur shot her a grin and sucked harder.

"I ... she didn't want to get pregnant?"

"Aye. Clever girl."

Millicent had to close her eyes because of the overwhelming sensations she felt, but she needed to focus on their talk, not only because it ended the silence.

"Will you ... oh, oh, my god, Arthur ... will you pull out when I beg you?" She asked, her breathing ragged, her hands searching for hold in the sheets.

"No. Never, unless you give me a good reason. 'I don't want to be with child' isn't one, just to be clear."

"But you said, you'd fulfill my wishes and ..."

"That again? Really, Millie?" Arthur lifted his head and she saw and felt his anger burning.

"I'm sorry ... please, don't be angry."

He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. Millicent lifted her hand and reluctantly caressed his cheek.

"Kiss me and you're forgiven," he said and bowed his head, bringing his lips to hers.

She noticed how much her kiss felt different from his, shy and maybe too soft, but he groaned with pleasure.

"That's it. See? That's your weapon, Millie. Kiss me like this, touch me gently and I'm all yours."

"You're a charmer, but still a liar," she answered and he smirked, focusing on her breasts again.

"Tell me," he said after a few seconds, "have you ever touched yourself for pleasure? Here?"

Millicent moaned lowly as he cupped her vulva with his flat hand.

"Once, only once. And I'm sorry." She whispered and Arthur lifted his head, her nipple leaving his mouth with a soft "plopp".

"Why you're sorry?" He asked and started to rub gentle circles over her labia.

"It's forbidden, isn't it? I ... I asked my mother about it because I didn't know what ... what happened to me and she got very, very angry. She yelled at me and I got a severe lecture, including 20 blows with my father's belt."

"I see. So, did it feel good? Touching you there?"

"Yes," she whispered and closed her eyes because she felt so ashamed.

"You're gonna feel this again, and you're actually allowed to feel it."

"Really?" She asked, sounding embarrassingly excited, and he chuckled: "Guess it was very good, very exciting, eh?"

"Yes," she confessed and felt her blushing. "Is this why women like it?"

"It is. Now, here we go," he whispered, grinning. "I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good, Millie. Just relax and let me do my work."

There hadn't been a hint of pain, degradation or humiliation so far and she trusted him. Not only because she didn't have another choice, she wanted to trust him. Being on guard day and night over weeks made her weak and tired. Arthur may be a notorious gangster and a hotheaded ruffian, to her he'd only been gentlemanly and soft. His body promised shelter and safety, his voice was hypnotizing, even when his words were scandalous.

Her body tensed, her back arched, she panted his name, all things outside their bed forgotten. The feelings flooding her body were so much, too much, she fell, held by him, safe in his arms. Her fingers searched for hold in the sheets, her legs trembled and the words he whispered in her ear were so dirty, so graphic and so good that she was hooked in the wink of an eye.

"You're bucking like an unbroken horse, Millie. Want something in your pussy, aye? Feels so empty, needs to be filled ..., but you won't get my fingers, darling. I want my cock to be the first thing ever shoved up in your pussy."

"Arthur!" She panted, "Please, please ..."

"You like it?"

"Yes!"

"Want me to finish you off? Give you what your body craves?" He whispered and sucked on her neck, intensifying the sensations.

"Yes, please, please!" Millicent moaned and with a few fast flicks of his pointer finger she was sent in her first orgasm ever, and a remarkable scream escaped her lips.

Arthur lay down on his side and pulled her in his arms, silently, his finger drawing circles on her upper arm.

"You are very responsive," he whispered. "Easy to lead. I like it."

"Thank you," she answered, unsure if this were compliments or impudence.

He kissed her deeply, before rolling over her again: "Now it's my turn. Give me your hand."

Millicent did as she was told and he led her hand to his cock, closing her fingers around it. He showed her how he liked to be touched and she felt a kind of strange eagerness to learn it.

"So," he then announced. "Maybe it's gonna hurt for a second, you know, the blood stain?"

"Yes," she nodded and felt her body tensing, "I'm ... I know."

He kissed her gently and she kissed back, finding great pleasure in kissing him. But he didn't move his hips, not an inch. All the kissing didn't break the tension that captured her body, and she knew he felt it too. The fear was back. But it was mostly the fear of the pain, it must hurt badly when it caused a bleeding. Arthur sighed, broke the kiss and looked up, on the headboard, and she noticed the change in is facial expression.

"Arthur?" She asked, watching him closely.

"What the fucking hell is that?" He whispered, furrowing his brows, looking concerned.

"What?" She wanted to know, turned and tilted her head to look to the headboard. "Where? I can't ... oh! Arthur!" She gasped as she felt a short tug, followed by the feeling of being incredibly full and stretched.

"Uh, nothing. That's it. It's done, now you're mine, darling. You fell for the oldest trick in the world, Mrs. Shelby," he grinned and moved his hips a bit.

"Not fair," she whispered and closed her eyes, but he clicked his tongue: "Open your eyes, I want you to look at me ... aye ... that's good, Millie."

Her gaze was locked with his and he moved slowly and steady, one thumb on the area he petted to make her feel good. When he sped up, his thumb moved faster too and she felt this overwhelming sensation building again.

"I feel your pussy starting to quiver, Millie. You're getting closer, aye? You've got permission to feel it, remember?" Arthur panted and for the first time she could hear his own arousal.

His thrusts were harder and faster now and she liked it, Jesus, she liked it so much. Arthur lifted her legs, changed the angle and she moaned loudly in the second he drove into her again, hitting another spot providing great pleasure. Over and over, until she fell apart, until she felt muscles she never knew she had trembling, quivering, milking his cock. The feeling rushing through every fibre of her being took her voice, her free will, her dreams, reducing her on just being Arthur's. Voiceless, will-less, dreamless and somehow brainless, but so good, so unbelievably good.

"Millie," he groaned, a sound coming deep out of his chest, "Millie, fuck, yes!"

He fell forward, pressing himself balls-deep into her and shivered, his whole body shaking. Before he crushed her he stemmed himself up, on his forearms, and placed a kiss on her lips.

"Thank you, Arthur," she whispered, kissing him back.

"Welcome. I've never had so much fun fulfilling a contract. You?"

"No. Never," she smiled and hid her face on his chest, inhaling his scent.

"I like seeing you smile, Millie. You should smile more often."

"Aye, I know."

"You were brave and wonderful," he whispered and caressed her cheek.

She nodded, asking herself which price she would have to pay for the pleasure she found in his arms. His words, spoken on the morning after their wedding, were still fresh in her memory: Once you say yes to me, you can't go back. All or nothing.

Now she'd said yes.

What did that mean?