“Can’t sleep, Lady Pinehurst?”
At the polite enquiry, her gaze darted across to the bed where Finn was sitting up and reading by candlelight. She swallowed hard to remove the boulder from her throat. “Oh no, I am quite well. But I thought perhaps you might need company. Bit of a storm outside.”
“Storms don’t bother me at all. Do they upset you?”
“No,” Pippa began, but just as the word left her mouth another clap of thunder rattled the window panes, and mortifyingly, she yelped like a sad puppy.
“If they are upsetting, you could come and sleep in here with me,” said Finn mildly. “But I cannot assist if you don’t tell me the truth, Pippet.”
Oh. He wasn’t going to let her jest her way out of this. He was going to make her say the words. Strip her armor away and leave her utterly vulnerable.
But if you share your fear, you can climb into bed with him. Finn will be so warm, like your own personal fireplace under the quilt. He might even stroke your shoulder the way you like…
Pippa gripped handfuls of her nightgown for courage, then blurted, “I do not like storms. I never have. They are…unsettling. I feel…afraid.”
“Then come here.” Finn moved over in the bed and lifted up the sheets and quilt. Casting aside all pride, she ran across the room and near dived onto the mattress. Seconds later, his arm curled around her shoulders and hauled her against his chest.
Pippa continued to tremble. But eventually her mind registered safety for Finn’s bare chest, her own personal sea wall, was warm and solid. So she didn’t disturb her spectacles—her nerves were far too shredded for blurred vision—Pippa carefully repositioned her head. Ah. There it was. The steady, soothing sound of his heartbeat under her right ear.
“Would you…pet me?” she mumbled, tugging on her nightgown’s bodice ribbon so it gaped a little and he could easily slide his hand under the fabric.
Finn chuckled. “I take it you mean stroke your shoulder?”
“Yes. I like it. Not just in bed, either.”
“Really?” he replied, now sounding surprised. “Forgive me, I have been laboring under the misapprehension that you do not overly enjoy being touched outside of lusty play.”
On another occasion, she absolutely would have jested her way past the question. But it seemed the protection of warm chest and steady heartbeat during a storm quite loosened her tongue. “I do not enjoy being touched by people I don’t trust. Or those who touch with insincerity and air kisses. Oh, Pippa dear. Mwah mwah.”
“Understandable.”
“People did that after my mother died. I had to hold all things together because Father and Lilian were so distraught. Xavier escaped to his tree house and pulled up the rope ladder. Georgiana just misbehaved. I was only ten, but the servants started coming to me to ask questions about the household. I had to mature very, very fast. And the neighbors, the vicar, the physician, all the adults who visited, praised me for that, for being so mature. I wasn’t hugged or comforted, they shook my hand and told me I was a good brave young lady. I wanted to be a good brave young lady. So I did more and more. But good brave young ladies don’t get scooped into laps and rocked. Nor do good brave women. They just get allocated yet another impossible task.”
“That they do,” said Finn, his fingertips drawing circles around her upper arm. “And then your grandmother arrived, and she would have offered as many hugs as my father. None.”
“Precisely.”
“May I ask…is the fact you don’t like storms something to do with your mother’s death? I hated that I was away at school when she passed. I wrote to my father, begging him to let me come home. He refused. So I had to send you daily letters instead.”
Pippa blinked back tears. “I still have them. In a bundle. They were evidence, you see. That someone was thinking of me. And to answer your other question…yes. There was a terrible summer storm that night. Lightning hit a tree and split it in two, half of it fell over the road leading to our country estate, so the physician was delayed by several hours. Mother had a fever. Just a fever. But she was here and then…she was gone. I didn’t…I didn’t g-get to say g-goodbye…”
Choking on a sob, Pippa tried desperately to regain control. But as though a dam had burst, a lifetime’s worth of tears gushed down her cheeks and onto Finn’s chest. Unable to see anyway, she tugged off her spectacles and buried her face in his shoulder. He rolled on his side to face her, his other arm curling around her waist, and held her tightly. Not saying a word, just anchoring her as she sobbed so hard her whole body shook.
It might have been minutes or hours later, but eventually the tears ran dry, and Pippa winced at the throbbing of her temples. “Apologies for the waterfall,” she said hoarsely, wiping his shoulder with the sleeve of her nightgown.
Finn slid a finger under her chin and gently lifted it so she had to look at him. “No jests, Pippet. As I’ve been informed, there is no shame in crying.”
“But it’s been ten years!”
“Yes, but you’ve never had the opportunity to properly mourn before. You can only suppress pain for so long before it bubbles up and bursts free.”
“I suppose,” she said reluctantly.
“Do you want to hear a story I heard about your mother? I didn’t realize she proposed to your father and not the other way around.”
Pippa laughed, perhaps the wateriest sound the world had ever heard. “What?”
“Kingsford confessed at his club. Apparently, she got tired of waiting.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. Mother directed all things. Father just beamed and said Yes, Mandy. She was so loud and loved to be outdoors, ankle deep in soil and shrubs with Lilian, but on the other hand, she presented me with my first book of Latin phrases and read me Shakespeare. I never really understood Mother and Father’s marriage, for they seemed like such opposites…but they complemented each other. They made each other whole. Loved each other so deeply, and never hid it. Imagine loving someone that much…and having them snatched away. It’s a wonder anyone loves at all,” she finished with a yawn, soothed to sleepiness.
Finn went still, his hand pausing in its stroking. “So, you think some people are afraid to love because the pain of losing it would be too great?”
“Mmmph,” said Pippa, struggling to keep her eyes open.
“Rest now, Pippet. I’ll stand guard.”
She patted his chest. “Sea wall. Caramels.”
But in seconds, she was fast asleep.
Chapter 16
In the realm of Finn, two things were currently apparent.
First, that the storm had passed. Second, that his cock was hard. No, not just hard, but ready to crush stone hard. And the reason for that was his wife had curled herself half on and half off him, while idly threading her fingers through his chest hair. In the inventing room, it had been Pippa naked and him fully clothed. Now their roles were reversed, and something about the contrast was wildly exciting.
But he couldn’t do a thing about it, because Pippa had her menses.
“Good morning, lady wife,” he said.
Pippa froze, her gaze guilty. “Er…good morning. Didn’t mean to disturb. I’m not trying to mount you, proper consent and all that.”
“I know. I presumed you were deep in thought and needed an activity to occupy your hands.”
“Correct. Also…I like your hairy chest.”
“Why thank you. I grew it myself,” Finn replied, amused. “But before anything else, I must enquire what you meant by sea wall and caramels last night.”
His wife snorted and righted her spectacles. “A sea wall offers protection. I brought caramels in the event you needed a sweetener to let me stay.”
“Bribery is never required for petting, Pippet. Although now you have mentioned caramels it would be a cruel and unusual punishment to withhold them.”
Pippa rummaged under the quilt. “I’m not sure where they ended up after my running dive onto the mattr
ess. Could be anywhere…ah, one moment. Here. Caramels, warmed and only partially flattened by my thigh.”
“Sounds even more delicious.”
“Rake,” she said, rolling her eyes, but she unwrapped the sweets and fed them to him.
“About that…” he said hesitantly, licking sugar from his lips. “I’m not. A rake, I mean. I never was.”
Her brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
Finn took a deep breath. “You weren’t the only virgin on our wedding night. Whatever skill I have, I learned the same way you did. From romance novels, which I will say once again, are the greatest invention ever. You are the only woman I ever wanted to bed. The only woman I will bed in future. Because I love you. So much.”
His wife stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment. “I…er…don’t know what to say. I’m confused. Everyone thinks…well, this wouldn’t be the first time everyone is wrong. I should probably be angry that you didn’t tell me, but I liked the confidence of thinking you knew what to do. Argh. Wait. Did you say I love you when we were in the inventing room?”
“Yes,” he confessed, for there was no point denying it now.
“Huh. Forgive me. I know this is an appalling response. So unromantic. But that was a lot of critical information in a short amount of time and my mind is faltering. I need to lie down.”
Finn smiled ruefully, ruthlessly suppressing any hurt that she couldn’t say I love you in return. “Humblest apologies, but I didn’t want any more secrets between us. Not after last night. That was special.”
“Then I also have a confession. I do not have my bleed. That was a foolish lie because I was unable to wrangle my emotions after seeing what I thought was you with your mistress and child. I do apologize.”
“How are we each going to atone?”
Pippa tapped her chin. “From a purely selfish point of view…you could feast on my pussy with the same reverence and delight that you just ate those caramels.”
She certainly deserved orgasms, after being so open and vulnerable during the night. He needed to give her time to ponder the other cannonballs he’d just dropped into the conversation, and to show with actions how he felt as well as words. “I will always feast on your pussy with great reverence and delight. Caramels have stoically accepted the fact that they are now second on my favorite flavor list. However…I wonder if we might do something new first. Something that I would trust only you with.”
“Oh?” she said casually, but interest glowed in her eyes. “Let me reassure you, my lord husband, that I would take very good care of you. I am vastly experienced. Two whole weeks’ worth.”
He grinned. “Well ma’am, I understand you know the wicked ways of pleasure toys. Specifically, ones that go in the arse. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her nipples now visible against the fabric of her nightgown. “They make a body come in the most delightful way.”
“Then I hope you might take pity on a green lad like myself…and do that to me.”
A smile of pure sin curved Pippa’s lips. “I suppose I could do that. Do you have toys here? And some oil?”
“In that bottom drawer,” said Finn, pointing to a carved oak dresser. “Look for a leather purse.”
His wife practically flew across the chilly room. He almost laughed when she paused to stoke the fire and light two fresh candles—not even the prospect of pleasure could halt that practical streak inside her—but her enthusiasm was obvious; she practically ransacked his drawer to find the purse, and lifted it above her head with all the triumph of a pirate brandishing a treasure chest. “Got it!”
Unable to resist, Finn reached down and took his aching cock in hand, giving it a few gentle squeezes. “Bring the oil and the thumb sized dildo.”
Pippa returned to the bed and presented the items to him with a flourish. “Oh Finn. This is so exciting. What should I do next?”
“Prepare me,” he replied, taking two pillows and stuffing them underneath his lower back so his hips were raised. “Don’t forget to be generous with the oil. And at each step, tell me what you are about to do in the filthiest way possible.”
“Oh God,” she said huskily, lifting her nightgown to slide a hand between her legs. “I am going to touch myself and you are going to watch.”
At the sight of Pippa stroking her wet, fragrant center, Finn groaned. But when her fingers were slick with her own honey and she leaned forward and anointed his lips, he almost came. “More,” he rasped, as once again his tongue confirmed that caramels were a distant second to his wife’s pussy.
Pippa shook her head. “Don’t be greedy. Now, lie back like a good husband so I might see that fine backside of yours.”
He bent his knees and curved one arm behind his head as though utterly relaxed. “Fine? That is high praise. Not much to work toward, then?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Faint praise to manipulate someone into doing more is a shockingly bad habit that I will strive to forget. You have a magnificent arse, Finn. Superb. It is firm and yet not too firm to dig my heels in. The only reason that I refrain from having it cast in stone or bronze, is that I prefer the enjoyment of it to be mine alone.”
“Well,” he said bashfully. “Lovely.”
Picking up the bottle of golden oil, Pippa uncorked it and took a sniff. Her nose wrinkled slightly, but she poured some into her left palm, then swirled the tip of her index finger in until it was coated in the substance. “Ready?”
“I am.”
“By the by…you may not touch your cock.”
“I must protest!” said Finn, reluctantly moving his other hand behind his head.
“Protest acknowledged and dismissed,” she replied crisply. “Now, dear husband, I am going to rub some oil around that hole, then push my finger in. Just like you did to me. It felt…so strange. So very naughty. And the stretch burned a bit. But it was a good burn that made my clitoris throb. I shall henceforth be a strong advocate for pleasure toys in backsides. In conclusion, I hope it feels equally good for you.”
“Please do proceed.”
At the first tentative touch of Pippa’s oil-slick finger, he almost laughed at the tickling sensation. But then her touch firmed and she circled his back entrance before penetrating him about half an inch.
Finn shivered. “Do that again. Please.”
After re-wetting her finger in oil, Pippa carefully slid her entire fingertip inside him. He moaned at the intoxicating pleasure-pain sensation; as she had said, the stretch burned, but at the same time his back arched, wanting more. Christ, his cock ached. And not being able to touch himself and gain ease was a secondary sweet torment.
“How is that?” asked Pippa, peering at him over her spectacles as she thrust her finger in and out of his arse.
He clenched his jaw against a hot wave of sizzling arousal. Goddamn but those spectacles were like another pleasure toy for him. “Good. Very, very good. Could you possibly add a second finger?”
When she did so, knitting together her well-oiled index and middle fingers and pushing them deep, Finn’s ragged gasps echoed in the bedchamber. Much like she had a special spot inside her pussy, it seemed he had an internal one too.
“Do I take it that is satisfactory?”
Panting, he managed to nod. “A bit more, then the dildo.”
Her fingers continued to move inside him, sometimes straight in, sometimes twisting or parting a little. But when she withdrew them, then carefully penetrated his backside with the cool, unyielding jade dildo, Finn clenched the pillow under his head in an iron grip. Nothing mattered but sating his engorged, seed-damp cock; he was so close to coming he could scarcely think.
“I need to orgasm now,” he growled.
“Oh no,” said Pippa sweetly. “We’re just getting started.”
Finn loved her. And he’d been a virgin on their wedding night.
The staggering words had utterly splintered every rational, logical thought in her mind, to the point that Pippa was
grateful she had something to do with her hands, something to anchor herself. Yet the more she pondered his confessions, the more she liked them.
As much as she liked pleasure toy play, and that was a whole lot.
Especially right now, when she had him teetering on the verge of a powerful release. Other men might have balked at the thought of their wife putting a finger or jade dildo into their backside, but not her Finn. He had the courage and heart to be both the sea wall and the vulnerable villager. Someone who protected and pleasured and petted but also allowed her to do the same for him. A true partnership.
Pippa frowned. Finn had always been her best friend, but never before had she considered him just hers. It seemed there had been a fundamental change. Finn her friend, then Finn her husband becoming…Finn her one true love?
Surely not. That was entirely too much like a romance novel. And yet…
“Something wrong, Pippet?”
She blinked at his concern, unwilling to share such a monumental thought just yet. Not when it wasn’t fully formed and lacked any kind of logical assessment. “I’m just, ah, pondering which position would be more comfortable for you with that dildo in. For me to ride you or perhaps us both on our hands and knees. Also, do you happen to have nipple clamps here? I should like to wear those again.”
“There are a pair in that leather purse,” he said unsteadily as he rocked a little on the mattress, his chest and temples glistening with perspiration. “I brought home the pearl ones.”
“You are such a clever husband. You may put them on me.”
While he watched, she leisurely removed her nightgown then chemise. His indrawn breath was most gratifying; with him she felt so sensual, spectacles and all. After removing the clamps from the purse, Pippa handed them over then straddled her husband, leaning forward and lowering her torso so he had easy access to her breasts.
THE BEST MARQUESS: Wickedly Wed #2 Page 24
