How powerful it made her feel, to know he desired her. To know she could make him feel as weak with wanting as he made her.
“Tell me what to do,” she urged him, wickedness surging.
And her husband liked it, for he groaned. “Now?”
“Oh, yes.” She gave him another taunting stroke through his trousers. “Tell me.”
“Damn it.” He kissed her jaw, her lips, then lifted his head, considering her with a smoldering stare before he nodded, apparently satisfying himself with whatever he had been attempting to see in her countenance. “You want my cock in your mouth?”
Something deep in her core fluttered at the crude words, the images they brought to her mind. “Please.”
He kissed her sweetly, deeply, and just when she thought she would burst with the sheer beauty of the sensations he evoked, he ended it and raised his head. “Come with me, Bess.”
His voice was rough with desire and yet soft as velvet, and she was instantly aflame. When he looked at her as he was now, and when he spoke to her thus, she knew she would follow him anywhere he asked.
Even to the gates of Hades itself.
He took her hand in his and led her from the music room.
* * *
Torrie hadn’t intendedto return from his bout at Winter’s Boxing Academy, covered in perspiration, jaw aching from his lack of attention, and perpetual back pain gnawingly persistent, to a wife offering to suck his cock.
But he had.
And she had, thank Christ for that.
And now here they were, in the nearly overflowing tub together, Bess on his lap, his aching length nestled firmly against her soft bottom. He cupped her generous breasts and thumbed her nipples as he kissed the delicate shell of her ear.
“I could grow accustomed to taking all my baths with you,” he murmured, wondering to himself why he had never thought of bathing with her before.
Had he known how delightful and rousing it would be to have her in his bath, he wouldn’t have bloody well waited several weeks into their marriage to give it a try. But now he knew, and he intended to bathe with Bess as often as possible.
Any excuse, really, to have her naked and at his mercy.
“I was certain we both wouldn’t fit in the tub at the same time,” she said breathlessly, arching into his hands so that his palms overflowed.
“And I was equally certain we would,” he said, rolling the hard peaks of her breasts between his forefinger and thumb, then tugging at them until she made a soft, breathy sound and writhed in his lap.
He had taken great pleasure in soaping every inch of her body, and she had done the same for him. When she had been bold enough to ask to take him in her mouth earlier, a bolt of lust had gone straight through him. But although he had been eager, he hadn’t wanted a hurried shag in the music room.
No, indeed. He wanted a thorough, prolonged bedding.
His cock pulsed at the thought, ready.
“The water is nearly overflowing,” Bess pointed out, giving him a sidelong look that made him want to kiss her.
So he did, showing her without words just how badly he wanted her. When the kiss ended, they were both breathless and overflowing water was the last thing on either of their minds, he had no doubt.
His hand glided down her smooth, slippery belly, not stopping until he was parting her folds and finding her pearl, swollen and eager for attention. “We couldmakeit overflow, if you’d like,” he suggested wickedly.
This new domesticity with Bess had him in a state of perpetual readiness. Following his accident, he had been adrift, seeking bed partners to slake his need and not remind him of how broken he was. But with Bess, everything was different. He didn’t long for anyone else, and everything that happened between them was founded in something far deeper and more potent than mere lust and bodily needs. Nor, it seemed, could he have his fill of her. He wasn’t bedding her to forget that he was broken. He was bedding her because she made him feel, for the first time, utterly whole.
She chuckled, the sound low and throaty, landing directly in his cock. “Why should we wish to make such a mess of the chamber? The poor maids would not be happy with us.”
She cared about the servants, and that pleased him too. Her kind heart extended to everyone. Including, he had discovered, to animals. Her growing bond with Hattie’s cat Sir Toby, coupled with the story she’d told him of the tortoise shell cat she’d been forced to abandon, had persuaded him that Bess ought to have a feline of her own to keep her company. Not a replacement for her Mince Pie, but a new friend. One with whom she would not be made to part.
But cats fled his mind as his fingers slid lower, finding her entrance and teasing her.
