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I must confess: I adore your protective nature. Is it barbaric of me to delight in your reactions when someone threatens me in the slightest?
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OWEN TORE HIS HUNGRY eyes from Lily’s exposed form, the cotton of her undergarments transparent in direct light. The bump of her belly drew forth a feeling of possessiveness so strong that a vision of hefting her into his arms and carrying her off to a darkened part of the forest materialized. They’d be alone, and he’d press her deep into the ground with his cock driving into her ripe body.
Clearing his throat, he shook the image away, forcing a facade of civility over his features. A fantasy for another day. With their outer layers shed, Owen guided them to the water’s edge before they tiptoed forward, shivering at the sudden chill.
“Lay on your back and float. Let your mind release these dark thoughts you’ve been having and trust me to care for you whatever happens in the future. A future that you have no control over.” He began, unsure of how exactly to help Lily overcome such strong emotions, but willing to try. Her need eclipsed the fury he’d felt seeing Lynch touching her at the luncheon. Hearing his insults. “Instead of letting the lack of control cause fear or anger, let it comfort you because it means at any moment there’s an equal chance of things shifting for better as much as worse.”
“I’m not sure it’ll be that easy,” she said, though her body obeyed the request as she leaned back. Wet cotton clung to her, outlining every curve and emphasizing the shadow of her nipples and the thatch of curls between her thighs. Desire warred with the platonic aid he was trying to deliver.
Unaware of his struggle, Lily continued, “The truth is, I’ve been acting out this way for a few years, and I don't know why. I hear myself being a harpy. I tell myself to stop, but it’s like someone else is controlling my actions. I know I must release this anger somehow... It comes out in the harshest way possible, usually directed at my sisters or you.”
She sighed. “But floating in a lake doesn’t seem like it will fix the problem.”
“Have you tried it yet, Lily-pad?”
“You and your ridiculous pet names,” she muttered before saying, “No.”
“The Garden Girls is catchy and undeniably fits. As does Lily-pad. When you’re clever enough to come up with a suitable nickname for me, you won’t hear a complaint.”
“Oh, I have a couple of nicknames, alright.”
“Appropriate names,” he teased. “But back to possible solutions. If you’ve never tried this before, then you can’t possibly know if it’ll work or not. Just give it... give me a chance.”
Speaking softly, Owen listed the things he admired most about her while she bobbed in the water before him.
“You challenge me more than anyone of my acquaintance. You see me as more than my title—see the true man beneath it all.”
“You fight for justice. Always stepping in to defend those who can’t defend themselves.”
The gentle words continued, and soon tears slid from beneath her lashes to drip into the lake. “Damn whatever this baby has coursing through my blood. They make me a watering pot.”
“This is good for you, even your walls can’t combat physiology. It’s forcing you to deal with your emotions, so they’re no longer bottled.”
“Well, you try crying at the drop of a hat and tell me how you like it. Salt stings, you know.” He kept a steadying hand beneath her as she wiped at her eyes.
“Stop reducing yourself to some silly woman. You’re more than that. You’ve endured real tragedies; these aren’t drop of a hat tears.”
“No, but this morning when I cried because my favorite dress wouldn’t lace up anymore? Those were silly tears.” He allowed her the victory, continuing to keep a bracing hand at her back for support.
They stayed in their positions for long minutes, until both of their breathing synced together, slowing and relaxing with each deep breath.
“Contrary to my previous opinion, I do feel better,” Lily finally said. “Can we get out of the water now before we turn into raisins?”
“If you’re ready, then yes.” Helping her find her footing in the sinking mud underneath them, they waded to shore.
“Hopefully, no one’s walking the forest or else they’ll get an eyeful of my transparent chemise. Indecent, indeed.”
“But very alluring. Like my own little water nymph.” He brushed a knuckle over her raised nipples. “This may be one of my favorite looks of yours.”
***
“IT WOULD BE,” SHE SCOLDED playfully, pleasure seeping into her bones. Hoisting tired limbs to the verdant grass lining the lake edge, Lily collapsed to her back, throwing an arm over her eyes to shield herself from the blinding sun.
Somehow, Owen’s wild notion of floating in the lake to release part of her pain seemed to have helped. Her mind and soul felt lighter—perhaps gray instead of black, she thought amusedly—which was more than she’d expected from the strange but tranquil interlude.
A yawn bubbled up—another effect of her pregnancy.
“Tired, sweetheart?”
Mumbled agreement slipped past her lips when a large hand wrapped around her ankle. Quaking in surprise, Lily propped herself up on her elbows to find Owen observing her with the strangest look on his face, his eyes fixated on her body.
“Lie back down.” The husky command feathered lazily through the air before she cautiously obeyed.
Rough palms slid along her calves, smoothing up and down her legs, each time reaching higher until they pried the clinging hem of her chemise upward to rest at her waist.
Exposed. Vulnerable. His.
“I’m going to share a secret with you, my dear. I’d never been with a woman before you. We were both virgins that night.”
Shock—swift and powerful fired through her brain. Owen had been a virgin? Cold shame filtered through the shock as she remembered how she’d treated him. How callous she’d been. In so much pain that she’d inflicted it on Owen in retribution.
“I’m sorry.”
“As am I... Except it’s difficult to work up too much guilt when it gave me you as my wife. And our child, of course. But I do wish our first time had been less anger-fueled. Gentler. Loving.” She felt his hands tighten around her hips. “Will you let me love you the way I’ve dreamed of?”
How could she refuse such an endearing request?
The answer? She couldn’t.
“Yes...” One breathy word of acquiescence, but it was all he needed. Lowering his head, cool droplets of water fell to her skin as he peeled the cotton from her chest, revealing a berry nipple to the sun.
“Would it be too crass to admit how much I yearn to taste your milk after the baby’s born?”
He... what? The idea never occurred to her that he—or anyone would want to do such a thing—but as his lips wrapped around a taut bud and suckled, she found herself longing to satisfy his curiosity.
“You can do whatever you want with me. Nothing is too much.” Owen would never harm her, which meant he could only ever please her with his sexual fantasies. They could explore the possibilities together like they truly were those teenagers in love.
Groaning at her admission, Owen worked his way south, biting her through the chemise at her hip, circling her pushed out belly button. “You shouldn’t give me carte blanche, love. I might take advantage.”
“A nobleman? An earl like you? Never.”
He paused in his ministrations to meet her lust-filled gaze. “I'm an earl like any other, Lily. A man like any other.”
“Except you're not,” she refuted. “You married me: a simple country girl. Half of your blood is Irish. You aren't like any other earl in all of England.”
His head dropped. A deep rumble vibrated in his chest. “When you say things like that... Fuck...”
Spreading her fingers through his damp hair, Lily coaxed him to look at her again as she teased. “Mrs. Holly wasn’t the only one whose language has gotten filthier, it seems. I don’t remember quite as many curses leaving your mouth in our youth.”
“I didn’t know as many, then. The Continent was rather enlightening. And all of my filters disappear around you. So, if my dirty mouth bothers, you have no one to blame but yourself.” He lightly pinched the outside of her thigh, and she yelped at the slight sting.
“I never said it bothered me. I find it rather... stimulating.”
“Do you now?” A devilish smirk emerged as he flattened his belly to the grass and draped her legs over his shoulders. “In that case, I won’t hold back. Now, you’re only allowed to say three words: more, please, Owen. Preferably in that order.”
“But I... I...” An inkling of his intentions bubbled into existence, but she couldn’t fathom him actually doing it. Did men do such things to their wives?
“Only those three,” he repeated, then the only sounds emanating from him were deep growls and murmurs of delight as his tongue burrowed between her thighs to lick along her... pussy.
That’s what he’d called it.
The wickedness of such a word aroused her, and she was eager to learn more from him. A lazy flick at her clitoris sent her back arching from the spongy ground and a gasp for air falling from her lips.
“That’s it, love. Tell me what you like. I want to hear every pretty cry. Feel every tight squeeze of your sweet pussy on my tongue.”
“Please, Owen... more.” The requested command tumbled easily from her, and he acquiesced with a bruising grip on her hips. This version of the Owen she knew commanded easily, moved with confidence—versus the youth who’d been more hesitant, careful in his touches. Though we never crossed this line before where his mouth devoured me like I’m one of his favorite treats.
“Happy to oblige, wife. I’m glad you’re taking your vow of obedience to heart.” Teeth nibbled, lips sucked, as Owen’s mouth took full advantage of his position, laying waste to any layer of resistance she may have held onto. She didn’t want to rebuff him. Didn’t want to hold him at a distance any longer.
She wanted what she always had, even when she’d denied it—Owen, plain and simple, the love of her life.
Two fingers entered her, working in tandem with the laving of his tongue. Push, pull, push pull. The rhythm increased as her whimpers grew louder. She’d attempted to replicate this feeling once. Tried to touch herself and imagine Owen’s rougher hands.
It hadn’t felt half as good—not because her smaller fingers couldn’t reach as deeply as his or because she didn’t give it her best shot—but because Owen’s touch set her afire. The special effect belonged to him alone; it wasn’t something she could conjure out of thin air.
His fingers changed angles until he pressed against something inside that drew a hoarse shout. “Owen, please... Don’t stop...”
Taking his vow of obedience seriously, too, Owen focused all of his attention on her sensitive sex, until finally, with one surprising nip of his teeth, she came against his mouth, crying out from the sparks of pleasure bursting in every nerve ending.
Like the fireworks launched at the end of the fair—only brighter—singeing each exposed part of her at close range.
Shuddering from residual shockwaves, Lily expected him to remove himself after the last wave abated. Instead, he shifted her legs so his head rested on her left thigh, allowing his tongue to languidly stroke her at his leisure.
“You don’t have to continue... I... um... finished.” Never in her life would she have imagined voicing those words, but she didn’t know how to handle Owen’s absorption with her pussy. God, she felt naughty even thinking that word.
“Mmm... But I haven’t.” His hot breath brushed over her in the warmest of touches. “Just rest, darling. Let me have this. Love you the way I want to.”
Oh, no.
Another crop of tears threatened to well over at his plea. She didn’t deserve this man. She’d had the right of it earlier—he was too good.
Nevertheless, Lily didn’t push him away, accepting what he wanted to give as this time he kept his movements featherlight and teasing, until a gentler orgasm surprised her, its lingering effects stronger than she would’ve expected.
Too good, indeed.
Struggling for breath, she lay redolent on the bank of the lake, grateful for the cloud drifting to block the sun for a moment. “Did you learn that on your travels as well?” She meant it as a teasing compliment, but feared it may have come out snarkier than she would’ve preferred. Owen’s past liaisons weren’t any of her concern, besides he’d claimed to be a virgin, perhaps that extended to all types of love play.
“No, I just happen to be a quick learner when my wife is exceedingly sensitive and vocal about her delight.” His head lifted higher to rest just below her chest—the perfect temptation with his auburn hair drying in thick waves, begging for attention. Relaxing under his calm tone, no offense taken by her query it seemed, she dropped her hand to his temple and began stroking through the familiar strands.
She allowed her head to drift to the side where her gaze caught on the old oak tree across from them. The secret hiding spot for their letters to each other. Something she knew Owen hadn’t used in years, except for the one demanding letter about meeting after their terrible coupling at his mother’s ball.
Lily, however...
I should tell him. It’s time.