Wicked And Wild: Spencers in Love Book Two

by Abigail Graves

  He must have watched Mirabelle sleep for at least an hour. Lucien could have stayed for days, happy to watch her hair change color as the sun moved through the sky. Every moment he witnessed made her softer and less mortal. His adoration remained pure and reverent until she stretched and twisted. A faint moan escaped her lips and she settled on her back with her arms over her head. Mirabelle's breasts rose and fell and Lucien became fixated. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate their perfection before he stood and carefully draped a blanket over her and left the sitting room.

  A week later, Lucien sat at his desk, staring at Mirabelle as she stretched out on the couch in his study. The morning after he'd vowed to stop acting like a little pervert she wandered in with a book and made herself comfortable. Earlier, she'd cried off going to breakfast with the family but had agreed to dine with him downstairs. Lucien questioned her again with only a little more success.

  "Our engagement was so draining. Would you mind if we just stayed in for a week or two?" Mirabelle smiled weakly before turning her gaze to the window.

  He agreed, of course. Lucien wished he'd known what it was going to cost him. Unable to focus on his work but not wanting to be caught staring at his wife like a starving puppy, he picked up his pen and began to write. Unfortunately, the only thing he could think to write about was Mirabelle's body. In what could only be considered a violent act of masochism, Lucien would write all of the things he'd wished he could say to her about the various parts of her body and what he'd like to do to her. All in very graphic detail. The first day, he'd written about Mirabelle's breasts. The next day her derrière, then her mouth, the tight perfection of her womanhood, her hair, her thighs, her hands... Each time he'd written until his need was so strong his hands shook too much to continue. Then, he politely excused himself and ran as quickly as he could to his dressing room. It didn't matter that he'd slipped away from Mirabelle's bed and locked himself in just a few hours prior or that he'd probably do it again after staring at her mouth through lunch. Being shut in with her was slowly driving Lucien insane.

  The dreams weren't helping matters either. During the day he could keep her at arm's length. In bed, he could hold the reins of his desire and keep himself in check for Mirabelle. But when he slipped into unconsciousness, Lucien turned into a lust driven beast. He devoured her, his mouth and hands voraciously claiming every inch of her luscious body. He mounted her ruthlessly, writhing and rutting. Their bodies tangled and fought as they screamed and moaned. Lucien spoke the wickedest words to Mirabelle, urging her to perform the most illicit deeds.

  The dream Mirabelle was wanton and demanding. She teased and pouted, touching herself and rubbing against him. She could never get enough, greedily sucking the seed from his cock and purring in delight when he spilled himself deep within her. Dream Mirabelle straddled his face and pinched her nipples as she used Lucien to seek her own release. She set him aflame with outrageous suggestions and her domineering behavior.

  Lucien would wake in the middle of the night or in the early hours, his hand already wrapped around his raging erection. He'd stumble blindly into his dressing room to purge the visions from his fevered mind. After, he usually crawled between the cold sheets of his empty bed and berated himself for being weak and unworthy until he fell asleep.

  Chapter 19

  "Mary, could you do me a favor and tell His Grace that I'd like a word?" Mirabelle asked as she reclined in the tub. She was about to get out but she thought she'd try something. Mirabelle had heard whispers about Gilles' and Elise's habit of flooding his dressing room, perhaps she could tempt Lucien. All of her previous attempts at seduction had failed.

  "Yes, Your Grace!" Mary winked as she closed the door.

  Mirabelle had tried brushing her breasts against Lucien's arm while he was at his desk, licking and sucking things suggestively during meals, posing seductively on the couch in his study, brushing her foot against his leg as they drank tea... One night she'd managed to climb on top of him as he stretched. Mirabelle had been able to rub herself against Lucien for one glorious moment while he shut his eyes and clenched his jaw. She could have sworn she felt him hard against her bottom as she straddled him before he rolled her off and turned her away from him so he could settle behind her. Again, he'd told her she needed rest and that she'd been lovely and perfect.

  After three weeks of marriage, their bedtime routine remained the same. Lucien led Mirabelle to her side of the bed and waited for her to lie on her back before he took his position above her. He kissed her until she was distracted and then readied her with his fingers. Once he was certain that Mirabelle was properly prepared, Lucien entered her and steadily slid in and out of her until they achieved their release. Aside from when he used his fingers to prepare her, Lucien never touched her below the neck. He never allowed Mirabelle to touch him and he never altered their position. He said almost nothing; his speech was limited to "Yes!", "God!", "Let Go!", "Please!" and her name. The Lucien in her bed was not the silver tongued seducer she had heard countless stories about. Frustrated didn't begin to describe what she was feeling.

  The incident in the library was the start of a retreat for Mirabelle. Every confusing, distant, awkward incident of rejection took a toll. Lucien's lack of interest awoke emotions within her that she had never learned to cope with. She had always avoided situations that made her feel unsure and inadequate. To find herself constantly battered by such feelings in her new home, with Lucien, was bitterly disappointing. Mirabelle feared that she was losing her closest friend and the only thing she had truly ever wanted. She felt like she was failing. Nothing she tried so far had worked.

  There was a gentle tap at the door.

  "Enter." Mirabelle called. The door opened and Lucien carefully peeked around the door. She could tell that he was considering shutting it and being on the wrong side. Mentally, she dug in her feet. She wasn't letting him off that easy.

  "Could you come in, please?" He hesitated for a moment before finally stepping in and shutting the door behind him. Mirabelle sat up, letting her breasts rise above the water as she pulled her knees up and leaned over them.

  "The Season's almost over and we haven't discussed our plans for the summer." Mirabelle held up the soap. "Would you do my back, please?" For a moment Lucien stared at her hand. She was afraid he might refuse until he nodded and reached. She let her fingers brush his as he took the soap from her. Lucien kneeled next to the tub and began rubbing the soap against her wet skin. Mirabelle smiled wickedly as she moaned. She couldn't see his face but his hand stopped. She leaned back slightly until her face was next to his. Lucien's eyes were squeezed shut. Mirabelle brushed her lips against his and he groaned. "Would you like to join me?" She whispered. He shook his head and stood up.

  "I already took a bath and Hugo will have my hide if he has to prepare new clothes for me tonight." Even he knew that was a sad excuse. Mirabelle sighed. She thought she'd had him. Not ready to give up, she pointed to the bucket by the fireplace.

  "Help me rinse?" She smiled as he turned away. Mirabelle stood and he froze as he heard the water sliding off of her. When he turned, Lucien's expression was almost pained. She turned her back to him and suppressed a giggle as she heard him hiss. He poured half the bucket and Mirabelle turned. She placed her hand on his shoulder as if to steady herself and swayed forward, her nipples almost brushed his chest. "Sorry. I wouldn't want to get you wet." She whispered as she arched her back and leaned away. Lucien's jaw twitched. After he poured the rest of the water, Mirabelle lifted her hand so he could help her step from the tub. "Could you pass me a towel?" She extended her arm. His eyes remained fixed on her breasts for a moment before he shook his head slightly. Lucien handed her a towel and stepped back.

  "Would you prefer to go to Winthorpe or Longwood? I'm partial to the two of us having a quiet summer." Mirabelle dried off her arms and stomach before she turned away from Lucien and bent at the waist, giving him a full view of her derrière. The only answer she
received was the clicking of the door as it shut and a silent room. Mirabelle stomped her foot and threw the towel at the door.

  Joss met Mirabelle in the hall when she came down for dinner. He had a tray with a letter for her.

  "From His Grace."

  "Thank you, Joss." Mirabelle tried to appear relaxed as she opened the note.

  My Love,

  Just received some information and need Alastair's opinion tonight. I will return within the hour for dinner.

  Love,

  L.

  Mirabelle closed the note and smiled. It could have been worse, she supposed.

  "Can I get you anything while you wait, Your Grace?"

  "No, Joss. I'll read in the study until His Grace returns. Thank you." The butler bowed and retreated.

  The study felt too empty and too quiet without Lucien. Mirabelle drifted around the room, examining the various items Lucien had collected. Most were horse related. At the sideboard, Mirabelle poured herself a scotch and let her gaze fall on Lucien's desk and the large chair behind it. Smiling, she crossed the room and settled into the seat. She inhaled, shutting her eyes in delight as the familiar scent wrapped around her. Lucien.

  Mirabelle began examining the items on the desktop. Finding nothing of interest, she opened a drawer. A stack of letters rested on top. As she was shutting the drawer the word "cock" caught her eye. She felt her eyes grow round. Biting her lip, she carefully lifted the pile. Mirabelle took a fortifying sip of the scotch and picked up the first page. Her jaw dropped.

  I dream of your breasts. You have the most luscious breasts I have ever seen. Your nipples make my cock ache. I could spend hours teasing them with my lips, tongue and teeth.

  I want to squeeze your breasts together as I thrust my cock between them until I spill my seed all over your chest.

  Mirabelle was stunned. It was definitely Lucien's handwriting... She set the page down and looked at the next.

  I want my last breath to be between your thighs. You taste like ambrosia and the smell of you drives me wild with lust.

  If you would let me, I would make love to you with my mouth for hours. I long to trace every fold and suckle at your tender bud until you're desperate with need. Then, I would enter you with my tongue, thrusting with it as my cock would inside of you.

  I would seek out every sweet drop of you and greedily suck the nectar of your release.

  "Oh, my God!" Mirabelle whispered. She set the page down on top of the last and shakily took another sip before continuing.

  I want to fall asleep, my tongue tangled with yours and dream of your lips.

  If you were to lick my ear, I might lose my mind.

  When I imagine your lips and tongue exploring my chest and stomach, I become so hard it hurts.

  When I spilled myself inside of you last night, I imagined your lips around my cock. I pictured you on your knees swallowing my seed.

  She read them all, her hands shaking every time she picked up another one. When she was done, Mirabelle replaced them and moved to the sideboard. She refilled her glass, generously, and sat on the couch. Sipping slowly, letting the warmth of the scotch calm her, Mirabelle considered the letters.

  They must have been important to Lucien. He kept them close at hand and almost in plain view. She knew he hadn't strayed; they'd barely been apart since he proposed. But could one stray in their mind? If so, Lucien very definitely had. Whoever the letters were written to, he was enamored with her body.

  Mirabelle gasped and pressed her hand to her mouth. Is that why he couldn't look at or touch her when they made love? Did Lucien avoid letting her touch him because he preferred someone else's hands upon him? Was he thinking of his mystery woman when he spilled himself into her?

  It didn't make sense. Lucien was always so attentive. She knew he had very strong feelings for her, possibly even loved her. Could he love Mirabelle in every way except sexually while he lusted so strongly after another woman? Her instincts told her that Lucien wouldn't have married her if that was the case.

  She heard the front door open. Joss greeted Lucien and informed him that Mirabelle was in the study. She heard his quick stride and looked up as he entered, attempting a relaxed, spontaneous smile.

  "How is my brother?" She thought that sounded normal.

  Lucien smiled as he went to the sideboard. He raised a brow as he noticed the glass in her hand.

  "He's well. Asked dozens of questions about you. I wanted his thoughts on a horse that's going up at Tattersall's tomorrow but he couldn't be bothered." Lucien sat next to Mirabelle, stretching his legs and crossing his ankles. He reclined and brushed his knuckle against her cheek. "You're not mad at me for leaving without telling you first?"

  Was he referring to the dressing room when she was trying to seduce him or when he left the house to see about a horse? She shook her head and lifted her glass.

  "No. I entertained myself." She forced another smile. Lucien narrowed his eyes.

  "Are you sure? Something's not right." He gestured towards Mirabelle.

  She almost laughed. Something clearly wasn't right about her. At least not in the bedroom.

  "I'm fine." She took a long swallow of her scotch.

  "Mirabelle, you only drink spirits when you're ill, upset or have had a fright."

  Perhaps it was a little of all three.

  "I was just passing the time and the bottle was there. I know it's your favorite and I missed you." It was true, Mirabelle realized. The restrained, awkward man she lived with was not the man she'd kissed in The Parlor at Spencer Place.

  Lucien smiled lazily and leaned towards her. He kissed the corner of Mirabelle's mouth. She turned her head and took his face in her hands. She opened her mouth and sighed as his tongue slid in. Lucien angled his head and deepened the kiss. Mirabelle's eyes widened in shock. He rarely allowed more than a quick brushing of lips or a peck on the cheek unless they were in bed. His eyes were heavy when he lifted his head.

  "How many drinks did you have at Burton Place?" Mirabelle asked suspiciously.

  "Four." He chuckled as he raised his glass. "And this makes five. I hope dinner is ready soon." As he said the words, Joss stepped in and announced that it was in fact ready.

  Mirabelle's mind was a tangle during dinner. One moment, she was obsessing about the letters and the mystery woman, the next she was reliving the kiss in the study. She didn't feel like he was thinking of someone else when he kissed her but how could she tell?

  "You're quiet." Lucien said softly. Mirabelle looked up at him. His expression was serious. "You've been so quiet since we married." She smiled wryly.

  "Perhaps you should have married me sooner. I imagine a great many people would have been grateful." Lucien chuckled as he reached for her hand.

  "I don't like when you're quiet." He lifted her hand to his lips.

  Mirabelle felt her heart sink. He was so much like the man she missed right then. The spirits had relaxed Lucien enough that he could flirt with her. She was so tempted to tell him everything. How frustrated she was with his rejection, the letters and how she missed the easy way they used to talk and tease. But there was too much and Mirabelle didn't know how to start.

  "My head hurts. I think I'll go up now." She pushed her chair back and Lucien rose. He looked concerned.

  "Would you prefer I slept in my own bed tonight?" He asked softly. Mirabelle shook her head. While part of her was tempted, she knew she'd miss him. And what if the spirits relaxed Lucien enough that he actually responded to her? She couldn't pass up the chance.

  "No. Come up whenever you're ready." With that, Mirabelle left.

  When he entered Mirabelle's room, he was no longer the relaxed, flirting Lucien she'd left in the dining room. He was tense and didn't attempt to kiss her as they approached the bed. When Mirabelle reached for the straps of her gown, Lucien's hand stilled her.

  "Keep it on." His voice was hoarse. Mirabelle shut her eyes. She'd felt as if she'd been slapped. When she opened them, Lucien
was holding the sheet aside so she could lie down. Everything that followed was the same as it had been every night before except he barely kissed her and she turned her head away and cried. Despite her sadness, Mirabelle's body betrayed her and she arched and moaned against Lucien and let go when he told her to. She shuddered in his arms and then let him roll her away from him and pull her against his chest.

  "You are so lovely." He sighed as he kissed her shoulder.

  Not lovely enough, Mirabelle thought as tears rolled onto the pillow.

  Every time she was on the verge of falling asleep, a line from one of the letters would appear and Mirabelle would jerk awake. She'd stare at the canopy until her eyes got heavy and she'd drift off only to wake a short time later with a start. The inky darkness of the night began to fade. The sun hadn't begun to rise but Mirabelle could feel that it would soon. She turned towards Lucien.

  He'd rolled on to his back; his chest rose and fell steadily. She watched him as the sky started to lighten. His beauty made her ache, the sheets had been pushed down and most of his upper body was exposed. Mirabelle longed to touch him.