“Something inside?” he asked, fingering the opening of her spasming hole. “Not today. You’re still healing, but I intend to fill you again soon. Drive my cock inside again soon.”
“Let me feel it,” she begged. “I need to at least feel it.”
Sebastian stood and fumbled with his trousers until he gave up opening them and settled for grabbing Jane’s hand from her breast and placing it on the placket of his breeches, where he had already formed a visible wet patch because of his leaking cock.
“Do you feel how wet you’ve made my piece?” he asked. “It’s drooling because of proximity to your delicious pussy.”
“I need you on me,” she groaned, drawing him closer to her center by the bulge in her hand.
Sebastian let her direct him, chuckling at his lovely, lusty bride, and allowed himself to collapse on her, caging her in with his forearms. He fit his rigid, clothed cock against her cunt and began pressing rhythmically against her.
“Like that?” he asked while panting from the effort of pantomiming a swive while keeping his piece from exploding in his pants.
Jane could only whine, the wet fabric bulge pushing her to the edge with each careful thrust.
“Let me see that tit,” he said. “Is that nipple ripe for me? Are you ready to feed my heir with this beautiful breast?”
She offered herself up by pushing against the bottom of her breast, allowing Sebastian to suck on the nipple. Finally, he drewhis teeth carefully up the peak, and she erupted in a moan while rhythmically working her hips against him.
“That’s it, my love, take it,” he said, wincing as she ground against him in her last moments of orgasm, well after he had spent in his breeches.
Jane let out a low, long whine as her orgasm peaked. She collapsed against the worktable, pulling Sebastian over her.
“Are you crying, darling?” he asked, wiping her cheek with his fingers.
She flinched at the sensation of touch after so much stimulation.
“It’s so good,” she said, her face blank.
He chuckled, pulling back from her body and adjusting his well-used cock within his breeches.
“Are you pained?” asked Jane. “I don’t know what came over me. I could not imagine stopping.”
Sebastian let his hand rest on Jane’s exposed breast. “You were a paragon,” he said. “If men knew they could ask their wives to take such enjoyment in a stolen afternoon moment, there would be no unmarried rakes remaining. They’d all be tilling their brides’ furrows.”
“Is that what you were? A rake?” she asked, placing her hand over his.
“Hardly,” he said, his eyes warm as he surveyed his wife’s disarranged clothes. “A rake would never soil his breeches or conclude the wedding night before the fire had even touched every log on the pile. I am a besotted husband, a faithful beau.”
“I wonder what you’d be like as a rake,” she said, giggling and squeezing his hand in reassurance. “Should the urge ever come over you, I would be the willing target of your raking seduction.”
Chapter 4
The willing target ofhis seduction.The words circled in his mind, taunting him. He could take his wife like a rake, and with her enthusiastic permission. Perhaps that was what she wanted from a husband? A rough, controlling lord rather than her considerate beau?
It was enough to drive a newlywed mad. And hard.
Leaving Jane in his bed following a beautiful night of cuddling and gentle lovemaking, Sebastian composed a note that he left on her dressing table. It read: “Should you wish to meet a rake, wear the white dress from the Waterloo picnic.”
Did she still own the dress? Would she remember the gown that so entranced him, with its gauzy fabric seeming to hide her figure—until the midday sun beat down behind her and illuminated the curving silhouette of her lush body?
Would her lady’s maid intercept the note and spread gossip? Would she dress before finding it and take it merely as a suggestion rather than her groom’s earnest plea for an afternoon of play?
Sebastian rode in Hyde Park distractedly, stopped in at his club only long enough for his visit to be unremarkable, and inquired at the jeweler about matching earrings for Mrs. Meers.
By two o’clock in the afternoon, Sebastian was a frustrated, agitated mess, tossing the reins of his curricle to his tiger before storming into the townhouse, much to the shock of the servants.
Good, they would leave their master and mistress alone for a long while. He decided he didn’t care if Jane wore the picnic dress or not. He planned to seduce her that afternoon.
