And now, here Georgiana was, very much in need of pillaging by a caveman, without a caveman in sight. She could still feel the weight of his arm around her, the press of his body against hers. Not once in her various encounters had she ever been so drawn to a man. Which didn’t make the least bit of sense, since her husband was not the sort of man she typically favored.
She clambered onto the very tall, very large bed and stretched her arms out wide. She stared up into the fathomless evergreen canopy, nearly black in the low light of the lone candle flickering in her chamber. Her husband had said he wouldn’t be visiting her tonight. She ignored the way her heart sank at the thought. Her fingers twitched against the bed linens. Her hands didn’t reach the edge of the mattress on either side. It was extra lonely to lie in a bed so large. Extra cold. And she was extra overheated from her tempting, tongue-tied, tactless husband.
That wouldn’t do at all.
She quickly divested herself of her nightdress and rolled over to her nightstand. She tugged open the drawer, withdrew a leather-bound box, and flicked open the lid. If her husband wouldn’t be visiting her, then…
“Hullo, Derek. It looks like it’s you and me tonight, darling.”
She pulled out her trusty dildo, the flickering flame of the candle reflecting off the glossy, white ivory surface. Derek was always so good to her. After a few discreetly placed inquiries, Georgiana had learned of a woman who possessed a stall at the local market sellingbaked goods. It wasn’t loaves of bread women left with in their baskets, though.
The seller had exquisite options—wood, siltstone, ivory, some with intricate carvings—but Derek had caught Georgiana’s attention from the start. The woman had warned Georgiana not to expect her actual lovers to be anywhere near the size of Derek. Now that Georgiana had a mite of experience, she could attest to the woman’s warning. She wondered how her husband would compare. Her heart rate spiked.
Georgiana wrapped her fingers around the cool ivory, her fingertips not quite touching. Some nights, she warmed him with her hands before she used him. But tonight—tonight she was too heated. Too heated by thoughts of her husband’s muscled form, naked before her, above her, on her. She had to get through to him, get past his anxious exterior. She wanted to experience Fitz. Desperately.
She slid Derek down her stomach until he rested on the apex of her thighs. She hissed at the contact of chilled ivory to burning skin. She slipped him lower, between her legs, stilled. She bit her lip. What she wouldn’t give for her husband to be in Derek’s place, his weight, his bare-heated skin, pressed against hers.
Georgiana rolled the dildo against where she throbbed, where she was already trembling with want from thoughts of her axe-wielding husband. Her breath hitched, and a moan fled her lips. After their disaster of a first kiss, she should be nervous for when they finally came together. But aching anticipation consumed her, drowning out apprehension. Because there was something charged, like an electrical storm, that raged between her and Fitz. And in her mind? Their joining was as cataclysmic as the lightning from one of those storms.
She coasted Derek between her legs, the ivory growing slicker, her core pulsing harder. She was on fire from thoughts of her husband. Legs clenched tight together, she teased herself, toes curling with every drag. Every drag was pure torment, her body shaking with need, demanding she sink her dildo deep inside. Her eyes fluttered shut, and in the backs of her lids, all she saw were visions of Fitz. Hovering over her, caging her in between his corded forearms, slowly thrusting between her thighs. Tantalizing her and never giving her what her body yearned for—something to fill the emptiness.
Her skin was so sensitive, so swollen. She pressed harder, clenched her thighs tighter, her hips canting up as she pushed down. She would grip tight to the biceps she saw so gloriously displayed today, use that solid strength for leverage. She’d fight him, try to force him to give her what she needed, craved. To be filled. But in her fantasy, he denied her. He would bring her to the edge, ready to fall, and then take it back.
God, how she wanted that. To be tortured. To have the pleasure withheld over and over again. Fuck it, she couldn’t wait. She could only hope that one day her fantasies about her husband would come true. She had no restraint; she needed a man to restrain her—Fitz to restrain her.
Georgiana drew her knees up and let them fall open. Then she sank her dildo deep inside.
“Oh, God.” Her words melded into a moan. Her core coiled tight. Tension radiated through her. Fast. Sharp. A promise of pleasure. Her hips thrust on their own accord as she fucked herself on her trusted toy, every part of her wishing he was flesh-and-blood Fitz. And she really wanted to know what her husband’s looked like. Felt like. Tasted like. Was he thick and long? Straight or curved? Salt and musk and man?
Fuck.
A tremor shook her frame. Pleasure spiraled, coiling tight. Derek did an admirable job. She would give him that.
But she wanted her husband’s cock sinking deep inside her.
16
Fitz
Fitzwasdesperatetosink his cock inside his wife.
And he was going to do it. Tonight. He marched to her chamber, eyes narrowed in on his target. He would not fail. Fitz stopped in front of his wife’s chamber door and rolled his shoulders. He had chopped down a bloody tree today. He could fuck his wife.
When he had tucked Georgiana to his side earlier, it had felt soright. Shefitthere. Not the most eloquent way of putting it, but he translated other people’s words for a living; he didn’t make up words himself. And then she had looked at him, plush lips parted, cheeks and the tip of her nose rosy from the cold, pupils blown wide in her round eyes. He was nearly as confident as he was in his ability to translate Italian that his wife’s expression was one of lust. Lust. Forhim.
As usual, he had gone and ruined it. He had calmly removed his arm from her person. Well, jerked it away in a rather ungainly manner. Then muttered a polite excuse. He grimaced. More like stammered a stream of stupidity. And fled with dignity.
Yes, so much dignity, Fitz.
But she had lust shining in her eyes, and he hadpanicked. His body had reacted, blood racing south. He had almost kissed her. Right there in the middle of the entry, surrounded by his siblings, servants, and trees, of all things. Of course that would happen. He’d finally found the ability to kiss his wife—properly, because he would have done it quite thoroughly—and it was the exact worst time for it.
The only option had been to get as far away from her as possible. Before he rutted with his wife on the marble floor. He had never in all his life felt such a powerful pull toward a woman. He didn’t understand it. He wasn’t a stranger to lust, and he was usually quite adept at controlling those urges. Because he was Fitz. Doing anything without thinking led to disaster. But there had been something elemental about his need for her back in the entry. Like he needed her like he needed breath. Which was ironic—because often times around his wife, he struggled to breathe.
So, he had fled to his study, collected himself, and now he was ready. Prepared with as much confidence as a man like him could muster. He straightened his shoulders, drew in a deep draught of air, and lifted his hand to knock.
“Hullo, Derek. It looks like it’s you and me tonight, darling,” a muffled voice drifted from inside his wife’s chamber.
His breath exploded from him, and his fist froze mid-air.What?Who was Derek? And what was he doing with Fitz’s bloody wife!
