Page 57 of A Taste for the Peculiar

“No,” she gasps, like she surprises herself with her demands. Her head lolls with each thrust, but she tries to cling to coherency. “I do not want — just a husband. I want more.” She whimpers and clutches at Pye’s shoulders as they drive into her. “A wife. A spouse. A partner, all rolled into one. Can you give me that, Lady Riften?”

Pye groans at the name. No one has ever called him that. Not to their face. Not earnestly. Not with adoration in every syllable. Their answer is a growl buried in her hair. “Yes. Gods, yes, let me —”

“Then give me my final lesson.”

It sounds more like a plea than anything from Pye’s mouth. He doesn’t hesitate once she frees him from the restraints, wrapping his arms around her waist and pushing up from the bed. She kisses him deeply, scraping her teeth into his lips and licking at the blood like it’s a sworn oath to her.

“Show me how you bed your wife,” she breathes. “Show me what you’ve been keeping from me.”

THIRTY

Avirin

Avirin might crawl out of her skin. Her hands are all over Pye: the skin of their chest, the tattoos down their arms, the stubble on their jaw. She has spent months imagining this, even when it was impossible. Even when their lessons were meant to lead her to someone else. Even when Pye bid her goodbye for the last time.

Look where they are now.

She gasps in relief. Her touch is frantic, like this moment will be yanked away from her, but Pye is calm. They meet the fervor of her lips, but their kiss is slow and deep, smoothing out the panicked lines of her mouth.

It soothes her. It’s strange how such simple motions from Pye can put her entire being at ease. He is unlike anyone she could have imagined. He is more than a husband; he has become her closest confidante, her safe haven, her dearest friend, and the center of all her fantasies.

He lays her out on the chaise lounge, resting her head on the pillow and running his hands over her wide hips. “All the days I’ve spent dreaming of this moment, and you still find a way to surpass anything my mind could conjure.”

She flushes under his attention, gaze skirting out the window beside them. Moonlight pours through the glass, slanting across their bodies and setting them aglow. “Someone could see,” she whispers.

“Do you like the thought of that?”

The thought is so obscene that she shivers. Any member of the ton would gasp in horror at the notion, but an ache grows between Avirin’s legs. They are not trapped beneath the stifling hand of the beau monde. Avirin doesn’t ever want to be there again.

Pye cages her with his arms. “Anyone could walk past this window. Do you think they’d stop to watch?”

No one will be walking the grounds this time of night, but the possibility makes Avirin arch. It must be magic how such profanity becomes so beautiful in Pye’s mouth. She yearns to hear more, clutching at his waistband to pull him closer.

He does not give. “Should I close the curtains, my darling wife?”

She whines at the name. Everything Pye says is sweet as honey, and she knows he means every word, but there is a vein of mockery within it that makes her writhe. She doesn’t understand. How can he be so gentle and wicked at the same time? How can she crave both at once?

Her teeth scrape her lip when she shakes her head.

“Tell me,” Pye murmurs. “Speak to me.”

“No,” she manages. “Don’t close them.”

“Why, Lady Riften…” A devilish smile tugs at Pye’s lips. “Is it an audience you pine for? Do you want someone to watch me open you up?” Their hand trails down her body, shifting her chemise so he can glide his fingers between her legs.

Avirin sucks in a breath when he spreads her, revealing her wet heat to the open air. If anyone passed by, they would see exactly how Pye touches her, exactly how he rouses her spirit.

That thought makes her body flare.

Pye rolls her onto her side to face the window and guides her top leg into the air. The movement is foreign, but Pye adjusts her slowly, his long fingers gripping the bottom of her thigh to bend her knee toward her chest. It leaves her sex exposed to him, and suddenly, the position feels anything but silly.

He aligns their hips and leans closer, the sultry curve of his lips just out of reach. “Do you want someone to watch me fill you? Is that what you’ve been imagining during your nights alone?”

The head of Pye’s cock eases into her, and she gasps against their mouth. It is one thing to feel him pressing into her, but it is another entirely to watch. His cockhead slides in and out of her folds, growing slick every time he stirs.

She remembers the opera, the card party, the after-dinner drinks. What if Samuel and Cascade and Selbie could see them like this — Avirin flushed and needy while Pye gives her the barest inch of their cock?

She bites back a sound, but she can’t hold back forever. One minute of Pye toying with her becomes two, then three, and what first felt like a gentle stretch now feels like nothing. Her nails dig into the cushions. She tries to work her hips toward him, to take more, but he hooks the back of her knee over his shoulder to keep her in place.