He was right. He could see her crumbling inside as she backed against the wall, and he felt a moment of triumph. That would teach her to mess with him! An inexplicable surge of excitement, similar to what hunters must feel when they've made their kill, coursed through his body, and he realized that he had a huge throbbing erection. And he knew just what he wanted to do about it!

Fran sobbed, but refused to be cowed. She kept looking at her husband warily, but through tear-filled eyes. How she hated him! How she hated his guts! To think that she had stayed with him all these years… borne his child, served him meals, taken care of him when he was sick, given him encouragement when he was having business problems… and all for what? So he could talk to her like this… humiliate her like this!

"Come here!" Brint growled. He let his eyes fall upon the open cleavage of his wife's nightgown. The creamy white curves of her naked breasts showed clearly, and he longed to touch them, to feel their soft firmness in his hands, to suck upon his wife's throbbing little nipples. She never failed to excite him, although for some reason he tried to keep this secret from her. He would take her surlily, brusquely, almost as though he didn't care, as if he didn't even like her sometimes… when in reality he felt almost addicted to her great beauty, controlled by it in such a way, that he never wanted her to know it.

"No!" she replied. The disturbed young blonde could see the look in his eye, and the knowledge that he wanted her sent a sudden thrill racing through her. She felt a trifle stronger with the recognition that he was attracted to her, and she straightened up a bit as her young husband growled: "Then take that nightgown off. What you need is a good fuck – that'll shut you up. That's what most women need!"