by Stacy Reid
“You are so perfect,” he growled in between the rough kisses he pressed against her lips. “So beautiful how you take my cock.”
Harder. Deeper. Faster. Sylvester shattered her with pleasure. Her heels dug into his back as ecstasy, sweet and brutal, ripped through her. I never stopped loving you, Sylvester. The awareness settled inside as he plunged his thick length once more into her aching depths. Her thoughts fragmented as her husband’s hips recoiled and he thrust deep and hard into her slippery channel.
He buried his face in her neck and rode her long and hard. The familiar exquisite tension tightened low in her stomach. Daphne groaned. She was incredibly stimulated, never imagining loving could be this raw and passion filled. The soft folds between her thighs were tender, sensitive…achy, and yet she still craved his touches and illicit encouragements. He was punishing her with pleasure. Dear God. He’d already brought her to the pinnacle of ecstasy three times. She couldn’t take any more. Daphne thought he’d coaxed from her body all the pleasure it had to give.
Then, as he’d promised, he proved again that she could.
Chapter Sixteen
At some time during the night, Sylvester had lit candles in the chamber. The light from the candles bathed his countess’s silvery hair in glorious hues, and he couldn’t help stroking the heavy strands of hair that drifted over the pillow. She lay sprawled provocatively, appearing tuckered after he had taken her four times already, her eyes heavy-lidded with arousal, anticipation, and perhaps a bit of exhaustion. The sight of her was stunningly erotic.
“I’m not done with you,” he murmured, coasting his hand over her tiny waist. She was curved out in all the places a woman should be and then some.
Her gaze softening, she reached out and trailed a finger over his jaw around to his mouth, where she slipped her finger between his lips. He sucked her finger into his mouth, then she pulled it away and licked her wet digit in a slow, sensual glide. His wife was wanton, and a growl of approval slipped from him. He pressed a kiss to her brow, down her nose, and then lightly across her lips. Her flawless, unmarked skin tasted sweet. And he couldn’t stop kissing, licking, savoring. What he should do was release her lips, turn her over his knees, and blister her backside for daring to plan a scandalous rendezvous. Instead, he kissed her over and over and over, ravishing her delightful mouth. He tasted the dark, rich desire trapped within her as she responded with shocking sexuality. Even in their present state of debauchery, his wife seemed so innocent still.
She felt so right in his arms. Sylvester claimed her lips in a ravishing kiss, hoping to convey the desperate ache in his soul for her. “I love you,” he said, his words falling mere inches from her lips. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed, her lips pink and parted, her eyes glittering with love. A whisper of a kiss feathered over his jaw.
“I love you, my earl, entirely with my heart and soul.”
Her voice wrapped around him. Needing to be inside her, he pushed his hand between them and touched her swollen flesh. She was damp but not wet enough to take him, and he wanted to be connected with her more than his next breath. He leaned back, gripped her hips, splayed her thighs wide, and dipped his tongue into the hot silken depths of her quim, and his countess grabbed his hair and cried out. Daphne’s response was half scream, half sob. Her taste and flavor exploded on his tongue, and several licks and nibbles later she was shivering and keening her pleasure. Sylvester flipped her so she lay on her stomach and then pulled her slightly on her knees. Unable to resist, he bit into the soft, firm globes of her buttocks, and she purred.
He smiled and shifted upward, blanketing her delicate frame with his much larger one. He braced on his elbow, tucked his cock at her wet, tight entrance, and surged slow and deep inside her, taking her with a gentleness and depth of emotion he hadn’t thought possible. Her fingers clenched in the sheets below her, and wild cries tore from her throat with increasing frequency. It became harder to be gentle, and before long he was riding her roughly with almost mindless fervor.
“Oh God, Sylvester!” she cried, convulsing on his cock. Her muscles gripped him tighter than ever, and he groaned at the exquisite feel of her. Sweet Mercy. He pulled back and returned with a swift, deep penetration. She screamed and bucked beneath him, unraveling for him again.
It had never been like this. Her passion was vibrant and sensual and exciting. He was delighted just knowing the pleasure she experienced in his arms. He felt intoxicated by her responses. What felt like hours later, but was surely only minutes, his pleasure peaked, and he surrendered to his need with a hoarse groan as he emptied deep inside of her. She gasped when he gently withdrew from her, cleaned her with his handkerchief, and then pulled her into the crook of his arms.
It was a long while before either one of them could breathe evenly.
“How did you know where I was?” she asked with an indelicate yawn.
“I got a note from Rhys Tremayne with the encouragement of Georgiana.”
“I’m glad they interfered.”
He grunted softly, and he felt her smile atop his chest. “My sister…” He cleared his throat.
“Sylvester, I—”
“I trust you, in your honor and how much you love me,” he said, stroking her shoulder with his fingers.
She attempted to squeeze him in a fierce hug. “Thank you.”
“Viscount Danbridge callously seduced my sister and abandoned her years ago. She fell with child, and she hid the evidence of it, gave birth in the country, and gave her daughter up to a kind couple. That is what your father uncovered.”
He could feel his wife’s heart, a beating mess against his chest. “There is no whisper Alexandria is not Hartington’s daughter. Not that it matters; she is a wonderful.”
He smiled at her swift and uncompromising acceptance. “There was no announcement of her birth, and to several close family and friends, she simply appeared in our lives as a baby. We’ve worked hard to ensure her birth isn’t suspected, but there is always the chance society may uncover the truth.”
“What did my father do?”
“He made his demands. I fought against them, so he sent Hetty a threatening note, promising to reveal all. Hartington had just declared for her, and she had not told him her secret. Her shame and fear were so great she tried to take her life. I found her, barely alive.”
“Dear God.”
Her hand slid down his chest in soothing motions as he told her of the fight his sister underwent to find her joy. Her courage as she rose above the shame she felt, the beauty of Alexandria. They spoke for long hours in a manner they had never done before. Of the past, their families, and of the future, and he hid nothing of himself from her. Eventually he heard her even breathing, slow and rhythmic, and knew she’d finally drifted off.
Six years wasted, but no more…
Holding her close, he pressed his face into her hair and breathed in her wonderful scent. He would never let her go, and he would love her completely until breath left his body. With that promise, he allowed his eyes to drift closed, Daphne a loving and comforting weight in his arms.
Epilogue
Three weeks later…
Kellits Hall
“And you were about to drown?” Alexandria asked with a gasp, her hazel eyes rounded with awe and a good deal of admiration for Daphne.
His wife leaned against the edge of their rowing boat and crossed her legs, the freedom of the tan breeches she had scandalously donned for their outing allowing her much freedom. Several tendrils escaped her chignon to curl along the slope of her cheeks, and her lips curved into an irresistible grin. She had a smile like sunshine, and it filled him with heat and pleasure.
“Oh yes, I thought my life was over, and then your uncle charged in on a magnificent steed and rushed to save Gulliver and I.”
“How did he do it?”
Sylvester smiled as his wife proceeded to embellish their tale of courtship into a romantic story that held his niece enraptured, with overly d
ramatic sighs slipping from her at intervals, the dark ringlets of her hair bobbing with her enthusiastic nods of approval. She was bound to complain of a sore neck later.
All thoughts of fishing were apparently abandoned when he had to rush forward and grab Alexandria’s fishing pole that was about to topple into the waters. As the small boat rocked precariously, Alexandria giggled, and his countess laughed.
“Oh, please tell me more, Aunt Daphne.”
Of course, his countess complied, the story taking on a grander romantic sweep. His sister strolled by, arm in arm with her husband, and waved. His family visit had been a weeklong affair at their country estate. The first afternoon tea between his wife and sister and mother had been filled with a terrible awkwardness. His countess had smiled at him gently over their heads, and her eyes had communicated the need for privacy. He had departed to take tea with his niece, and when he had returned an hour later, all the ladies had been laughing.
It hadn’t been seamless, but he could say with confidence that all the wounds of the past were healing. Sylvester had invited her brother down to Kellits Hall for the week. Though Henry had sent a note of apology for his behavior, the viscount had declined the invitation. There was work there to be done, and Sylvester was willing to extend his arm in friendship to the young viscount and offer him financial advice to climb from the debt in which he had sunk himself. His wife had little family left, and he wanted her more than content with life. Her happiness meant everything to him.
“Oh, Uncle Syl! You were so brave.”
“That honor belongs to Aunt Daphne, who jumped into the raging waters to save Gulliver.”
As if he heard his name, Gulliver’s barks echoed across the lake from the bank. The irrepressible dog bounded down the grassy slope into the waters and started to paddle across toward the boat. And some madness of his countess prompted her to lower her fishing pole and dive into the water to meet her dog.
Alexandria chortled, her joy bringing a lump to his throat. “Uncle Syl, I think it was a brilliant notion for Aunt Daphne to wear breeches on our outing today.”
He arched a brow, and the little imp grinned mischievously. “And wasn’t it wonderful that I, too, was allowed to wear the breeches she made for me?”
Then she clasped her hands together, her breath held in anticipation, her eyes laughing and beseeching at Sylvester. A pang tore through his heart. There would possibly come a day when society would dare to treat her less because of the circumstances of her birth. Despite Hartington claiming her as his child, his act of honor would not be enough to shield her forever. Secrets always had a way of revealing themselves, though Sylvester pray this one would stay interred.
“Go,” he said with a smile, wanting her to remain this joyful child with her infectious laugh and happiness for as long as possible.
With a shriek of joy, Alexandria launched herself from the boat into the lake waters, landing with a tremendous splash.
His countess’s eyes locked with his. I love you, she mouthed, before swimming toward Alexandria.
Sylvester put aside the fishing pole, contented to watch as his countess, his niece, and Gulliver romped in the water without an ounce of decorum. He doubted he had ever seen a more agreeable and relaxing picture.
…
A few days later…
The ton declared the Countess of Carrington’s ball a success even before it was over. Despite the stunning crush, and the fact that Daphne had been bold enough to invite Riordan O’Malley—a man who the polite world considered wholly unsuitable to mingle with the ton—the impropriety of Sylvester dancing most of the dances with her would no doubt take precedent in the morning scandal sheet. Daphne laughed, delighted with him and their love, which had somehow been so evident it had set the ton on its ears.
Her earl spun in a full arc, the heat of his fingers burning through her dark green ball gown.
A whisper floated in the air.
“How improper…”
“This is the fifth dance with his countess. I cannot credit such behavior.”
“Isn’t their love grand?”
“Grand? Scandalous is what it is. It is not seemly for a husband to dote so publicly on his wife. And Lady Carrington displays a similar attachment that is vulgar.”
The gossips of the ton took pleasure in discussing Daphne and her earl, some with shock and others with open admiration. Since the night her earl had declared his love, Daphne had never felt such contentment. They laughed, they loved, they healed, and then they laughed and loved some more. Each moment in his arms had been a lesson in scorching pleasure, and she found herself enjoying him more daily. The beauty of being able to envision their life without fear of being hurt was a treasure she held close to her heart. The only ache was the six years wasted, but she’d promised herself not to dwell on the past, only the joyful possibility of the future.
They worked together. She’d hosted a ball, a soiree, and a few of his political dinners. He had taken her to the gambling hall Asylum, where she had been dazzled by the world of sin and vice. She read his arguments for Parliament; she helped him write his articles on the horrors of slavery and its threat to humanity. And they had lively and spirited discussions. Then they would make love again and again.
The waltz ended. Sylvester placed a steady hand on the small of her back and guided her through the crowd to a secluded terraced window, then down the stairs and down the brick path to their large garden lit with several lanterns. He locked their fingers together as they strolled farther away from the laughter and music spilling from the ballroom.
They stopped, and he took her into his arms, pressed her chest to his, and danced with her wickedly close.
“Have I told you recently how much I love you, my wife?” he murmured, his lips brushing her temple.
“Only this morning,” she replied, lifting her face to his, already anticipating the heat of his kiss. It came as a gentle glide across her lips. Daphne sighed happily, wondering how her husband managed to infuse such love, comfort, and sensuality into a mere touch. “I adore you, my husband.”
She had yearned for his love and respect, dreamed of it, but nothing compared to the reality of being loved so ardently by Sylvester. Happiness had swallowed her whole, and she never wanted it to release her from its beautiful clasp.
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Acknowledgments
I thank God every day for loving me with such depth and breadth. Nothing can take his love from me.
To my husband, Dusean, you are so damn wonderful. Thank you for the dozens of times you read The Earl in My Bed, and I thank you for the awesome title. Your feedback and support are invaluable.
Thank you to my wonderful friend and critique partner Gina Fisovera. Without you I would be lost!
Thank you to my amazing editor, Alycia Tornetta, for being so patient when I miss my deadlines (which is always) and for being overall a kick-ass, amazing, wonderful, and super-super stupendous editor.
To my wonderful readers, thank you for picking up my book and giving me a chance! Thank you. Special THANK YOU to everyone who leaves a review—bloggers, fans, friends. I have always said reviews to authors are like a pot of gold to leprechauns. Thank you all for adding to my rainbow one review at a time.
About the Author
I am an avid reader of novels with a deep passion for writing. I especially love romance and enjoy writing about people falling in love. I live a lot in the worlds I create and I actively speak to my characters (out loud). I have a warrior way “Never give up on my dream.” When I am not writing, I spend a copious amount of time drooling over Rick Grimes from The Walking Dead, Lucas Hood from Banshee, watching Japanese Anime, and playing video games with my love—Dusean. I also have a horrible weakness for ice cream.
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Happy reading!
Stacy
Discover the Rebellious Desires series
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Accidentally Compromising the Duke
Wicked in His Arms
How to Marry a Marquess
The Duke’s Shotgun Wedding
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Sins of a Duke
The Royal Conquest
The Earl in My Bed
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