Wild, Wicked and Wanton: A Hot Historical Romance Bundle

by Natasha Blackthorne

  His dark brows drew together. “What?”

  Her heart flipped up into her throat. God, she ought to have quit while she was ahead but why not gamble for everything she wanted this time? What good did it do to hold back?

  “I mean that you shall sleep every night in my bed.”

  He took her hand and pressed it to his face. “Of course—every night from now on.”

  Her heart felt lighter than ever. It was really happening. They were to become a truly married couple.

  “Now, Beth, you must get better. You must be well enough by February.”

  His dictatorial tones brought a smile to her lips. “Must I? Why?”

  “Because I promised you a trip. Us, alone together, away from all of this. I intend to keep my promise.”

  * * * *

  Grey opened the door to his house. The sound of piano music made him pause. Each day when he arrived home at this hour, the same sound greeted him.

  His wife playing the piano in his house.

  The tension of the day seemed to melt away, to become insignificant. His body relaxed. He entered then closed the door and went to the parlor.

  She didn’t turn at the sound of his footfalls. She was always so intent on her playing. It was a complicated piece, one she had been trying to perfect. He stopped and watched her for a moment, enjoying the way the sunlight burnished her hair to silver-gilt splendor. She bent over the instrument, her neck a long, graceful line.

  It occurred to him how much he had to be grateful for. He’d been given a second chance to make things right in his marriage. To earn his wife’s trust and deeper love. In the weeks that had passed since that terrible day in Weehawken, she had slowly recovered her health and suffered minimal difficulties from her developing pregnancy. They had taken their trip away from everything, just the two of them. Every afternoon since their return, he had spent the hours between noon and Exchange with her. He looked forward to this time and would be very sad to miss even one day.

  And he spent more evenings at home than not. He compromised with himself, choosing the most beneficial and influential engagements and foregoing the others.

  The music came to an end. She turned and her face lit with pleasure. Upon her upper left breast, right where her pale yellow bodice met the delicate cream colored lace trim, the butterfly broche glittered in fiery jewel tones. Her choice to wear the gift spoke clearer than words of her intention to meet him partway, to try to understand and support his efforts to show her his love.

  It showed her acceptance of him, flaws and all.

  He bent and kissed her and lingered a moment, savoring the feel and taste of her sweet mouth. When he raised his head, her blue eyes sparkled with expectancy for he usually sat beside her on the bench and she would play for him a while.

  But today, he reached his hand to her. “Come, my darling, I have something to show you.”

  Once out on the front steps, she slowed her pace. She turned back to him and raised her brows. “A curricle?”

  He smiled. “Yes, what do you think?”

  She glanced back at the shiny pale blue carriage with the white accents, a gray folding top and two perfectly matched white horses. The brass lantern holder glinted in the sunlight. She turned and flashed him a smile. “It looks quite dashing. Light and speedy. But the colors seem a little…I don’t know, I wouldn’t have thought it was your style.”

  “Yes, I am much too old and set in my ways to drive a curricle.”

  “Old and set in your ways.” She laughed softly. It was a jest between them given his recent thirty-seventh birthday.

  “Quite so. I like to relax in my Landau and let Pete drive. It provides supreme privacy for concentration and I do some of my best scribbling down of ideas during travel time around town.”

  “Why then have you purchased such a vehicle?”

  “Perhaps I purchased it for someone else.”

  She frowned. “Someone else?”

  He nodded. “A certain young lady with an impetuous demeanor who I am told has spent much time indoors and has been feeling very suppressed this winter.”

  Her eyes went round and her mouth dropped open slightly.

  That soft, pink mouth.

  He couldn’t resist kissing her.

  When he raised his head, she still stared at him, somewhat dazed. “You mean it’s…”

  “It’s yours, Beth.”

  She gaped at him a moment longer, then she let loose a squeak that threatened to pierce his eardrums. She jumped up on her tiptoes and threw herself at him and wrapped her arms about his neck. “Oh my goodness!”

  A steady rain of kisses fell upon his check.

  Then she froze and backed away to look him in the eye. “Are you sure?”

  He laughed. “Yes, I am positive, it is yours.”

  She squealed and resumed kissing him. Then she finally regained her dignity. “No one has ever given me such a wonderful present. Oh! I can’t believe it. Oh, thank you, thank you.”

  “You’re going to have to allow me to teach you how to drive it in a safe, skilled manner.”

  “Of course.” Then she frowned. “Wait, when will you have the time?”

  “We’ll go driving together, daily at this time.”

  Her eyes caught his for a moment. And they both knew he was making her a promise. Committing his time and attention to her. Then she turned away and hurried down the remaining steps. Mindful of her delicate condition, he followed close behind.

  “It is absolutely lovely!” she exclaimed softly, her breath blowing a plume of vapor. Then she looked back at him. “But is it quite the thing for a lady to drive something like this?”

  He reached over her shoulders and pulled the hood of her daytime pelisse over her head. The pastel blue wool trimmed in white fur made a fetching foil for her pale complexion. Her excitement had placed two spots of color on her cheeks that glowed as softly as the pink of peonies. Had he ever felt as happy as he did in this moment? He held his entire world in the circle of his arms.

  Did she realize how much he would worry over her driving such a vehicle? Well, he couldn’t let her know. He had to allow her someplace to burn off the energy and wildness so inherent in her being.

  She must have a place to be herself without censure.

  He bent and gave her a quick kiss. “I have every confidence that you will make it ‘quite the thing’ to do.”

  She blinked at him several times and then a smile brightened her face. A dazzling smile full of the most delightful, wicked possibilities. “Yes, I suppose I shall.”

  Epilogue

  She hadn’t wanted to attend any damn ball. Not tonight of all nights. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Neither of the girls liked thunder. Beth chewed on her fingertip, her mind not here in the closed carriage but back in the nursery with its primrose wallpaper and polished maple cradle and rocking chair. Exactly where she should be now.

  Yet she was here in the carriage riding to the ball. Why? Because he had insisted and, ultimately, if truth were told, she could deny him nothing he truly wanted.

  “They will be fine, Beth, that’s what we pay the nannies for.” Grey’s deep voice cut into her thoughts.

  Her shoulders tensed and rose of their own volition. “Our children shouldn’t be raised by their nannies.”

  “You’ve not been out of the nursery since Ellie was born.”

  She smiled despite herself. “That’s not true.”

  He tilted his head and made a wry expression. “It is a virtual truth, if not literal.”

  She couldn’t deny that. Already she missed her girls. She should be the one tucking Priss into her little bed. The one to put the thick overnight nappy on Ellie.

  “You’re going to spoil them.” His voice resonated with tolerant humor.

  All right, yes, she had spent much time in the nursery. Holding the baby and reading to Priss while she played at Beth’s feet. It was summer and the charity school was on break. What better use could she find
for her time?

  “I am not spoiling them; I am simply giving them some attention. They will be little such a short time.”

  He moved closer to her and took her hand. “But I need your attention, too.”

  He stared at her, intently, as if seeing her for the first time. She caught her breath, for the lantern’s light seemed to accentuate every line and angle of his handsome face. A face most dear to her of all the faces in the world. And yet she’d hardly noticed him like this in the previous weeks of Ellie‘s colicky belly and Priss’ summer cold.

  The steady drumming of rain on the carriage, the distant rolls of thunder, the clipping of the horses’ hooves. It all seemed so familiar.

  “Beth.” He spoke the word as a breathy whisper as he cupped her face. His thumbs rubbed over the hollows beneath her cheekbones.

  She closed her eyes and lifted her face. His lips touched hers. He pulled away with a chuckle. She opened her eyes and watched as he removed his cravat pin. Then he returned to her and their mouths met, open. The taste of his tongue on hers was the sweetest thing. He cupped her face, tilted her head more to the left and plunged his tongue deeper. Hunger trembled through her; she moaned and clutched his broad shoulders. He pressed her back, down onto the velvet-cushioned seat.

  Wetness began to flow between her legs. Not a slow seeping but a sudden gushing that trickled down the inside of her right leg. What had it been? Three…no four months since she’d felt his strength pressing her, his weight upon her body. She arched her pelvis up to make contact with his. She moaned, the sound muffled by his mouth and vibrating deep in her throat. It sounded like someone else’s voice. It startled her.

  He tore his mouth from hers and lifted his body. Her thin batiste petticoats and fine muslin skirt slid over her silk stockings and up higher and air rushed over her skin until she lay bared to waist. He touched her leg, gliding his hand up the inside of it. Sparks of fire shot through her. She moaned again, this time a needy little mewling sound.

  God, she had to have him inside her. Now. She reached for the buttons on his pantaloons. He brushed her hands away. She felt his wrenching movements as he undid his pantaloons. A moment later he put his hands under her buttocks and lifted her even as he lowered himself to her.

  As he brought his face down to her, his lips brushed her hair. His cock touched her. He groaned. His need pulsed between them yet he began easing himself into her. She could sense his hesitance, his concern to not be rough this first time after the birth. She had no patience with it. She arched her hips up and sheathed him in one fluid, wet move. The sudden sensation of fullness, of being stretched, was divine. Her inner walls spasmed about him repeatedly as pleasure shuddered through her body. His body trembled against hers as though in answer. She wrapped her legs snug about his waist.

  “Fuck me hard,” she whispered.

  “God, Beth, but—”

  “Do it.” She tightened her inner muscles on him. “Just do it.”

  He groaned. Withdrew almost the whole way and then plunged into her. Then he did it again. And again. Faster and harder each time. She lifted her hips, meeting each thrust. Her wetness became audible and that somehow just made her all the more desperate to feel the force of his cock, banging against the mouth of her womb. It had been far too long since she had felt him inside her. Each meeting of their bodies there, at that most extreme point, drove her closer to the edge.

  Her channel contracted on his hard, pulsing thickness. He laid his hand over her mouth as waves of intense, long-lasting and bone-deep pleasure overtook her. His palm muffled her screams.

  She lay panting. He jerked his cock from within her and the hot surge of wetness against her belly told her he was coming even as he groaned several times.

  “God, oh God—Beth.” His voice carried to her, breathless.

  Something touched her stomach, something fluttery and light. She glanced down. He had laid his handkerchief over her stomach, protecting his evening clothes as he leaned over her and brought his face close to hers. In the dim light, the hair falling over his forehead was dark as midnight.

  “I love you. Christ, how I love you,” he breathed, just inches above her.

  She opened her mouth to reply but his came down on hers fiercely, taking her breath. Her love swelled in her chest until it was a pain, the sweetest of pains. She kissed him back with every ounce of feeling in her soul. Her enthusiasm seemed to set him afire. He grasped the mass of carefully arranged curls at her nape, turning the angle of her head to suit him as he deepened and prolonged the kiss. Her heart raced all over again at his passion. Eventually, she was forced to push away from him and gasp for air.

  He moved away from her and wiped her belly off with the handkerchief.

  Taking a hitching breath, she smiled to herself a bit ruefully. He had sworn that she wouldn’t carry a child for another year or two. He seemed set to keep that promise. She wasn’t so sure. She enjoyed their children. She craved more of them.

  He bent and placed a kiss on her stomach.

  She caressed his hair. “I love you, too.”

  He seemed so unconcerned about the time passing by. He must have told Pete to drive along the waterfront. She expected him to pull her skirts into place and then tap on the carriage wall. They were running very late for the ball now. But he didn’t. He laid his head down and pressed his cheek to her belly. “That first day, you were so damned gorgeous. As if God had taken every fantasy or dream of beauty that I had ever had and spun them into one living woman. I thought I’d suddenly become the luckiest man in the whole world.” He paused a moment. “But, more than that, you touched my heart.”

  “You touched mine as well but it scared me.”

  “Yes, I was terrified of you— of my feelings for you.”

  Her mouth fell open slightly and she caught her breath. “That’s quite an admission.”

  “Isn’t it?” He laughed softly. “From the first moment I looked into your eyes—your sad, beautiful blue eyes—I was utterly lost.”

  She recalled how scared she had been. How hard she had fought him in those early days. Sudden sympathy for him hit her and maybe a touch of remorse. Just a touch. She caressed the side of his face, enjoying the fresh-shaven feel of his skin. “Oh, my love.”

  “Well, I am not afraid anymore.” He turned his head and flicked his tongue into her navel.

  Joy radiated through her whole being. “Neither am I.”

  Slowly, he kissed his way from her navel to her mons. “And I am most definitely the luckiest man in the world.”

  His tongue touched her wet folds. Fire raced through her sex, up into her belly and then into her blood. She closed her eyes and arched into his loving mouth. She was definitely the happiest lady in the world.

  The End

  Alex’s Angel

  ©Copyright Natasha Blackthorne 2015, 2012

  Edited by Jon Rauch

  Cover Art by The Killion Group, Inc. 2014

  Kindle Edition

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Publishing History

  Third Edition published by Hearts Aflame Press October 2015

  Second Edition published by Hearts Aflame Press November 2013

  First Edition published by Total-e-Bound Publishing February 2012

  All rights reserved. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, “shared” or distributed in any printed or electronic form, including but not limited to email or IM/PM or electronic dropbox without prior written permission from the author, Natasha Blackthorne, at n.blackthorne@yahoo.com.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction, sharing, or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This e-book contains
explicit erotic scenes and graphic sexual language. Some readers may consider such content offensive. It is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country and/or state where this e-book was purchased. Please store your files where minors cannot access them.

  DISCLAIMER: Natasha Blackthorne writes romantic fiction for entertainment purposes only. Please do not attempt to use this book as a “how-to” book for any topic. Her works are not meant to be a guide or a representation of modern BDSM practices or lifestyles. Please seek the guidance of an experienced practitioner and/or your personal physician before trying any new sexual practice. The author, Natasha Blackthorne, will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of her titles.

  A Preview Excerpt From

  Alex’s Angel

  “The moment I saw you peering into the window at the Blue Duck, I knew you were going to be pure trouble.”

  “Then I’m surprised you bothered to save me from Green,” she said, trying to make her tone light.

  Alex’s eyes darkened and glittered. “Maybe I like trouble.”

  He grasped the back of her neck with one hand, brushing her sore, bruised flesh. But it didn’t matter. There was pleasure in the pain. He bent his head and she held her breath. His lips descended on hers, slanting over them with hard determination. He twisted his hand in her hair, sending flickers of fiery pleasure-pain through her head and down her neck as he moved her head to another angle. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue.

  Her heart pounded and the back of her throat went dry, for she knew what he wanted.

  Alex’s tongue slid over her lips like warm satin, sending spirals of delight sparking right down through her center to her very toes. Making her want to open for him.

  Her fatigue lifted as though it had never been.

  With a cry, she parted her lips and he swept inside, all wet, wonderful and warm—flavored with a hint of the wine they’d shared, along with something else. Something spicy and exciting and all together singularly him.