"Nicholas, please," she panted, nipping his neck. "I need more of you."
With a husky laugh, he rolled onto his back, bringing her on top of him. His sex throbbed heavily against the curve of her buttocks.
"It seems, impudent miss, that you wish to avail yourself of my rod." His obsidian eyes flashed, and his smile belonged on a pirate. "Have a go, then."
Helena tilted her head as she tried to construe his meaning. "How should I ... you mean I get to ...?"
"For as long as I can take it, my love."
As understanding dawned, Helena experienced a most unladylike excitement. Her husband uttered an oath as she grasped him in her hand and placed him exactly where she wanted him to be. Unused to this position, she squirmed in her efforts to take him inside. The wiggling served to heighten her desire, and she hummed with pleasure when his cock slipped against her pearl. Their contact slickened; she could hear the wet sounds of luscious rubbing.
"I can't take much more of this." Nicholas' eyes were heavy-lidded, and his jaw was tight. "Sweet, let me—oh, God, yes ..."
His hiss of pleasure melded with hers as she sank onto his pulsing shaft. Her eyes closed as she filled herself with his masculine power. With her hands splayed on his chest, she slid sensually upon him, slowly, a queen dictating her passion. Her subject did not seem to mind. He took in her delight with desire-slit eyes, issuing earthy words of encouragement all the while.
"How hot you are." He shaped a breast in his palm, pinched the nipple gently between his fingers. "Do you like riding astride, my wanton one?"
"I love it," she breathed as she bounced upon his prick. "You are so huge. You fill me completely ..."
He liked that, she saw. His nostrils quivered. With a twitch of his hips, he thrust upward at the same time she bore down. The intensity of the penetration elicited a helpless cry from her. He repeated the motion, groaning as he did so. He was so deep inside her, brushing up against her womb, her soul. She began to shake. Tremors of pleasure emanated from her core and rippled down her legs. She plunged upon him, harder and harder, desperate for the relief only he could provide.
His hands cupped her hips. At first, she thought he meant to dismount her, and she clamped her knees firmly at his hips. He could not mean her to stop. She was so close ...
He chuckled darkly. "No need to panic, sweet. Lean forward a little. Yes, like that."
When she moved again, lightning pierced her insides. She moaned her approval of the subtle adjustment, shimmying herself along this delicious new angle. Each stroke rubbed her pearl and sparked bursts of pleasure. She moved with increasing speed until the little bursts began to blur together. Then, suddenly, it swept over her: a single white wave of blinding joy. At the same instant, Nicholas shouted out, and she had the perfect ecstasy of his fulfillment within her own.
When it was all over, Nicholas settled her to his side and collapsed heavily onto the mats. His breathing was still ragged. "You have unmanned me."
Thoroughly sated and pleased with herself, Helena asked, "Do you regret having a wife who has uses for your manhood, my lord?"
"Never. I shall endeavor to keep it up." With a sigh of pure contentment, Nicholas pulled her into his arms. "You are the wife of my dreams, sweetheart, in and out of bed."
"We are not in a bed," his wife reminded him coyly.
"God help me," he said, so fervently that she giggled.
EPILOGUE
"I have a present for you," Helena said, her voice barely audible above the clattering of the carriage wheels.
Nicholas looked down at the elegantly coiffed head snuggled against his shoulder. He had thought his wife asleep by the way her body swayed with the movement of the carriage. They were returning from their first social outing since the birth of the twins two months ago. The childbirth had not been an easy one—his forehead prickled with sweat at the recollection—and he had insisted that she take a full recuperation at the country estate. Last week, however, Helena had declared herself fit for travelling. Unable to deny her anything, he had made the necessary preparations, and they descended upon their London townhouse with wet nurses and nannies in tow, just in time to catch the start of the Season.
He had taken her to the Opera tonight, and he smiled, recalling her exuberance. She had looked every inch the proper young marchioness in her sapphire gown, pearls glowing at her neck and ears. The jewels had been outshone by the joy on her face as she listened to the music with unfashionable absorption.
"How can you possibly give me more than you already have, my love?" he murmured against her sweet-smelling curls. "Scant sleep, endless feedings, slobbering on every surface ... and that is only one of the scamps. What man could want for more?"
His wife giggled. "I do hope Thomas and Jeremiah behaved for Nurse this evening. We have not been apart from them for so many hours before."
"I have no doubt we will be greeted with remonstrations when we arrive home." Nicholas' lips curved at the thought of chubby fists grasping determinedly at his lapels and hair.
How his life had changed.
The day after the arrest of James Gordon, he had approached Kent with Helena at his side. She had insisted upon accompanying him, upon being present as he lay open his past. Truthfully, he might not have been able to do so without her hand in his, her courage sustaining him as surely as her love. Kent had listened to the tale with the impassive expression of an officer. He had said nothing as Nicholas spoke of stabbing Grimes, of the nameless boy who'd witnessed it all and disappeared since.
At the end of it, Kent had looked thoughtfully at him. The police man's clear eyes seemed to probe the depths of his soul, yet this time Nicholas had not felt afraid. He might always bear the scars of his past, but the demons had been vanquished. They could hurt him no more.
"It seems to me, my lord, that justice has been carried out by an authority far greater than my own," Kent had said. "Flames can kill a man as well as a blade; who are we to know what truly happened that night?" Relief had flooded Nicholas as the investigator continued, "As to the boy, I will make inquiries. I cannot promise to find him, however, for so many years have passed, and we have less than a name to go on."
"Thank you, Mr. Kent."
This had been Helena speaking, for Nicholas had not been able to find the words. He could only shake the police man's hand with a grip firmer than usual; Mr. Kent had responded with a slight inclination of his head. And that had been that.
Aye, once he had not thought it possible to have all that was now his. Freedom from his earlier life. A home filled with children and laughter. A wife who, even now, was watching him with loving eyes.
He ran his knuckles along her cheek.
"Did you enjoy yourself tonight, love?" he asked.
"Yes, it was nice to have a change of scenery. And to escape our country house guests," Helena added with a rueful smile. "You have borne my parents' presence with remarkable grace, Nicholas."
"Who would have thought Northgate a doting grandfather?" Nicholas mused.
Helena sat up, her eyes large and luminous in the dim carriage. "You have been all that is generous with Papa, and he is finally recognizing it. But, really, dearest, we have more pressing matters to attend to. I am most looking forward to giving you your present. It is our anniversary, you know."
"Sweet, you are mistaken. We were wedded a year ago last month." Nicholas wagged his brows. "Do not tell me you have forgotten our festivities already. If so, I am losing my touch."
"That is not the anniversary to which I am referring."
"What other is there?" Nicholas asked, bemused.
In answer, his wife began unbuttoning his greatcoat. Instantly, desire leapt to life, and just as instantly, concern kept it at bay.
"Darling," he said, capturing her hands in his own. "Are you sure this is a good idea? The doctor did say ..."
"Nicholas," his wife responded in exasperation, "do stop fretting. I am fine, I assure you." She tugged her hands free from his o
ne by one, and the familiar glint in her eyes sent his pulse galloping. "However, I cannot guarantee I will remain fine if I am deprived of my wifely rights much longer."
"Your wifely rights?" Nicholas could not help but chuckle. The chuckle became a strangled groan as his dexterous spouse pushed aside his thick woolen outer garment and started working on the buttons of his waistcoat.
He closed his eyes, feeling his cock swell. "Are you complaining about my recent lovemaking then?"
With alarming ease, she sank onto the floor of the carriage. She tossed aside her wrapper, baring the pale, rounded tops of her breasts to his greedy gaze. Settling onto her knees, she set to work on his trouser buttons.
"Of course I am not complaining. You are always most gentle and adept, my lord."
He clenched his teeth, feeling himself grow harder and longer from the pressure of her industrious fingers. His floundering self-control received a serious blow from her next words.
"You know how I love it when you eat my pussy. The feel of your tongue when it slips inside me—I come for you every time, Nicholas."
Nicholas growled in desperation. "When we arrive home, I shall pleasure you all night, all morning, if it comes to that."
But Helena shook her head, her eyes sultry as she tugged open another button. He grunted when her fingers brushed the bulbous head of his sex. The traitorous organ nudged back with interest.
"Tonight, I want more than your mouth, my darling," she whispered. She popped another button free. Her breath caressed the length of his rigid pole. "I need to have this beautiful, colossal cock deep inside me."
Nicholas' head fell back on the cushion as his last vestige of self-discipline flew to the winds. He had never felt more colossal. "Helena, I do not want to hurt you. It is too soon ..."
"I want. . . you ... now." Helena punctuated each word by releasing another button, and then another, until finally he fell huge and hard and throbbing into her soft hands. He watched, mesmerized by the sight of his wife kneeling between his legs, studying his exposed rod with a distinctly lustful gleam in her eyes. Bending forward, she licked the stretched dome, swirling fire over his senses. Desire seeped instantly from the tip, and she tasted it, giving an approving hum before planting kisses along the thick shaft. Light, teasing kisses that made him burn for more.
"Minx." He slid his hands into her perfect coiffure, dislodging feathers and sending pearls clattering onto the floor of the carriage. He pulled her head firmly toward his turgid prick. "If you wish to suck my cock, then do it properly as I have taught you."
"Yes, sir," his wife said, her tone meek, her eyes laughing. "Your wish is my command."
Nicholas growled in pleasure as she obeyed his direction, taking him deep into the blazing recesses of her mouth. Her head bobbed up and down, fallen strands of hair brushing against his thighs as she tasted him. Savored him. Licked him from swollen tip to throbbing sac, before sucking him deeply inside again. The carriage jolted suddenly, bumping the sensitive crown upward against her throat.
He let out a feverish groan. "Yes, like that. Take me all the way into that sweet mouth of yours ..."
"Mmm mmm," his wife responded, her mouth clamped like wet fire around him. She softened the suction of her mouth, and he slid deeper inside again, nudging against the silken barrier. She squeaked in excitement, the sound muffled by the massive truncheon she was swallowing with unbearable enthusiasm.
His hands tightened in her hair. "Helena, my love, my God ... oh, fuck," he gasped.
He felt himself spurt a little, the pleasure raging over him too early, too fast. Tonight he did not want to spend himself in this fashion, not when a surfeit of delights awaited him. Panting harshly, he pulled her head away. She released him with a moist popping sound. Her lips glistened with the essence she drew so easily from him.
"You are delicious," his wife pouted. "I want more."
Nicholas was so consumed by lust he could barely speak. Instead, he hoisted her upward and turned her around, bending her over so that her upper arms rested on the squabs of the opposite seat. With a rough hand, he threw up her satin skirts and petticoats.
"Christ," he uttered, amazed by the soft, lush, and, most remarkable of all, naked curves exposed to him. He palmed her ass. Her flesh quivered, filling him with infinite satisfaction. "Have you been like this all evening?"
"Without my unmentionables, you mean?" Turning her head on the cushions, Helena sent him a flirtatious smile. "Of course, my lord. I did not want any impediments to our romantic explorations. And I was just so that night at ..."
"The Nunnery," Nicholas finished hoarsely. It was unbearably erotic, the image of his proper marchioness conversing politely with visitors to their Opera Box while underneath her demure exterior. . . damn, underneath ... He reverently caressed the swell of her bottom before fingering her lower. Hot, drenched with longing for him, she was all a man could ever want. All he would ever need. "The anniversary you spoke of. How could I have forgotten our first night of passion?"
"Yes, my lord," his wife purred, as she worked herself against his hand. "The night you mistook me for a harlot."
"Not just any harlot. My harlot." Bending on one knee, Nicholas grasped her thighs firmly in his hands and drove his tongue into the hot core of her. Helena's cries swelled his chest with the pleasure that had somehow grown stronger, even more intense, with time. He could not get enough of her. Their love had washed away shame and insecurity so nothing separated them now—it was as if their two hearts, two bodies, lived as one. He licked higher, tracing the crevice of her ass until he reached her perfectly puckered hole. He paused before circling it slowly, deliberately, with his tongue.
"Nicholas, what are you ...?" Helena began, but her words lost their shape, became a high keening cry, as he continued to tenderly explore her ass. He spread her luxuriant cheeks further apart and loved her, her cunny, her bottom, until every inch of her quaked and glistened with longing. Dipping his fingers into the thicket of curls, he spread her honey upward, slicking her with her own desire.
"Nicholas, please," Helena begged, her hands clenching the seat cushions.
He could not deny her, or himself, any longer. Standing, he positioned himself at the entrance of her pussy. The carriage bumped, nudging his cock against her swollen flesh. Helena gave a helpless moan. Balancing himself with the wall strap, Nicholas drove his hips forward, and his nostrils flared at the sight of his sex sliding into her. He moved gently at first, afraid to hurt her. It had been months since he entered her thus, and she felt so snug, so damned hot and tight. Her channel gripped him like a wet, velvet fist. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to go slow. Inch by inch, he eased himself in and out of her luscious slit.
"Darling," his wife said, with an impish glance backward, "if you wish to fuck me, then do it properly, will you?"
With a strangled laugh, he obeyed her. When he saw that she writhed in pure pleasure, without any sign of pain or discomfort, he began to pump her more vigorously. He found a pace to match the jostle of the carriage, his balls slapping rhythmically against his wife's soaking cunt. He took her fiercely, utterly absorbed in the possession of her. In this moment, there was nothing but Helena: the softness of her hips in his hands, the plush pull of her pussy bringing him home. He drove into her, giving her what she needed, even as he took and took of her. Her cries soaked into the squabs, muffled words, sounds eclipsed by feeling. By just being. But he understood anyway, for the same sentiments ballooned in his chest, summoning his ecstasy.
"I love you, Helena. Every part of you."
Reaching under, he rolled her knot between his fingers, loving the way it made her gasp and plead for more. He played with her until he felt her begin to tighten around him. As he pumped steadily inside her, driving her higher and higher, his dew-slickened finger found her ass. He breached her virgin hole with his fingertip. Instantly, Helena stiffened.
"Nicholas ..."
He pushed his finger in deeper. Her unused muscles c
lamped around his digit, at the same time that her pussy began to convulse around his cock. He flexed his hips powerfully, plunging so deep that his sex brushed her womb. His wife screamed as a shattering climax racked her body.
"You are mine," he groaned as wild pleasure swept through him. "Mine, as I am yours. Take me, my love ..."
He exploded in an endless release that fused his very being with hers. With his last ounce of energy, he managed to scoop her up and sprawl her atop him onto the seat. For several moments, the only sounds were their panted breaths and the clip clop of the horses.
"Why is the carriage still moving?" Nicholas mumbled with sudden awareness. He was too stated to truly care, but they should have arrived at home more than a quarter hour ago.
"I told the driver to take the scenic route home," his wife answered, nuzzling her cheek contentedly against his chest. "So I might surprise you with my anniversary gift. But it seems, my lord, it is you who showed me something new this evening."
Nicholas grinned roguishly as he drew his greatcoat more snugly about her shoulders. "There is plenty more where that came from, my dear. I should not want you to bore of my husbandly affections."
Helena snorted. "That hardly seems possible." A few heartbeats later, she tilted her head and smiled drowsily up at him. "Happy anniversary, my darling. I hope you enjoyed your gift."
"You are all that I have ever wanted." Nicholas' eyes were free of ghosts as he looked into his beloved's eyes. "Harlot of my fantasies and wife of my dreams."
THE END
EXCERPT OF ABIGAIL JONES
The Hall at Hope End
Hertfordshire, England
In the time of Victoria Regina
"Keep your eyes cast down, but your wits about you," the housekeeper told me. "In and out. That's the way to do it. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mrs. Beecher," I said, not for the first time.
She handed me the tray. I gripped the wooden handles tightly for fear of spilling the precious contents. The smooth red globes of grapes gleamed in the light of the kitchen tapers. Circling them were delicate rings of pineapple and slices of an exotic orange-fleshed fruit for which I knew not the name. "There, you see? I've got it."
Her Husband's Harlot Page 32
