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The stables came into view, wood planks shining in the late afternoon sun, and Owen hurried to find his wife. He’d blazed through her letters, each more heartrending than the last until he finished reading all of them.
Our lips touched for the first time in years.
His Lily hid a soft heart. He’d always known it, but he’d forgotten—blinded by her harsh outward demeanor or devil-may-care attitude.
I’ll leave you with a kiss until we’re together again.
Her words rang in his mind on a loop.
Entering the cooler interior, the kittens were more awake this time around and hobbled over Lily’s lap as she rested next to the feline family. Soon their child would join her—a child he knew she’d love with all her heart despite her misgivings about motherhood.
Sitting on the other side of Zinnia, he said, “I read every single one of your letters. Thank you for sharing them with me.” There was more he could share, how they made him feel, but he could tell by Lily’s expression that any more vocal acknowledgment would discomfit her. My stoic little Lily-pad. “I’ve named this one Rascal.” Owen bent down to grab a black and white kitten in his palms, the baby trying to suck on his thumb.
“Fitting.” Lily brought the two remaining kittens to her cheeks and smiled, relief at the turn of topic permeating her relaxed shoulders. “These are Homer and Shelley.”
Confusion swept over his features, nose wrinkling. “A Greek poet and English novelist? Why?”
“The Iliad was Papa’s favorite thing to read outside of biology journals, and Mama loved Frankenstein.”
“How peculiar... What’s your favorite book?”
“Don’t you remember?” she teased, lowering the kittens to their mama, who lounged gracefully, tail twitching in the air. Memories descended of years prior, lively debates and playful arguments, until he remembered with a snap of his finger, which startled poor Rascal.
Returning him to his siblings, Owen grinned. “Gulliver’s Travels! I remember now.”
Standing tall, he brushed at the hay clinging to his trousers and lifted his chin to an obscenely superior angle. Affecting a nasally tone, he quoted, “Horrible, shameful, blasphemous!”
“Filthy in word, filthy in thought!” Lily finished, moving to her knees. They remained silent for a moment—recalling the insult from fellow novelist William Makepeace Thackeray about the book—before doubling over in peals of laughter. “When we discovered that review, we knew we’d found our favorite tale.”
“To be sure. How could we resist something so dissolute?” Placing a hand over his racing heart, Owen allowed another rumble of amusement.
“Especially considering our own rather wicked natures...” The air shifted around them, imbued with an unexpected tension, as the delight in Lily’s eyes transformed into something darker, desirous.
Owen looked down at his pregnant wife on her knees for him, and lust slammed into his gut at the implication of her position. What implication? She’s an innocent; she can’t know such things.
Not to mention you made love but a brief two hours ago.
Yet, her actions destroyed the thought immediately as she shuffled closer, hands landing on his hips, mouth level with his growing erection.
“What are you doing?”
“Something I’ve been curious about for years, and I did warn you that I would have my way with you sooner rather than later... Welcome to sooner.” He wanted to kiss the cheeky grin off her lips but remained still, curious about her intentions. Nimble fingers unbuttoned his trousers, and his breath shook in his lungs. “I caught a maid and a footman behind your conservatory once. Her head bobbing up and down. His hand urging her forward. They both seemed to enjoy the act immensely with loud grunts and groans of satisfaction.” A salacious grin winked up at him. “I want to make you groan in satisfaction. It’s only fair after the pleasure you have already given me.”
Bloody hell.
“Are you certain you wish to proceed? It’s not necessary.”
“On the contrary, dear husband, it’s of the utmost importance to me.”
Adam’s apple bobbing, he nodded for her to continue. “If you must.” Owen pretended to have control over his whirling emotions, over the desire running rampant through his blood. He must make this good for her. Make it last as long as she wanted to please him this way.
Clear as crystal apparently, Lily chuckled at his forced forbearance. “Yes, dear husband. You must.” Drawing him out of his loosened trousers, she studied the thick stalk before tracing a delicate fingertip down a particularly throbbing vein. “Not quite like the statues at the Museum of Art, hmm?”
He chose to take the question as a compliment, recognizing he was rather more endowed than the marbled men he’d witnessed in his travels. “Intimidated, sweetheart?”
“Is that a challenge, my lord? Because you know how I can’t resist claiming a victory over you.”
“Hard to forget when you remind me at every turn.”
Her eyes rolled heavenward before she returned to her task of pleasuring him by flattening the pink tip of her tongue against the mushroom head of his cock. She didn’t immediately lick or suck, only waited, and the anticipation brought forth a few drops of pre-cum that she quickly swiped into her mouth as if it was exactly what she’d wanted.
The minx. Where on earth did she learn that?
“You said the maid enjoyed this?”
“She made a little humming noise in her throat denoting pleasure.” Then Lily mimicked the addicting sound by sucking him into her mouth. Tight muscles worked against him as he hit the back of her throat, and she reared back at the contact before attempting to try again.
God, bless her.
And him.
An errant thought flitted through his consciousness. It was fitting they should do this here, as if exorcizing the past demons of their lives. These stables had witnessed momentous occasions in their relationship—from its shattering to its mending. And this memory would be another brick in the foundation they were rebuilding together.
She drew a rough growl from him as her elegant fingers stroked in tandem with her pretty mouth, every once in a while dropping lower to cup his stones and roll them in her palms.
“Christ! Lily...” His hands stole into her disheveled braid. Unkempt after their lovemaking at the lake. The tangled strands wound around his fingers as his hips thrust into her, a lack of control coming over him. “Darling, you’re doing so well. Do you like sucking my cock? Like feeling it fuck between your pretty red lips?”
An unintelligible murmur drifted up as her fervor heightened. Cheeks hollowed. Lips swollen. A wildness rampant in her golden gaze.
He was going to come. Spill his seed in his pregnant little wife’s glorious mouth.
He thought to warn her. A gentleman surely would. But proper protocol escaped him as his cock spasmed, his hot release boiling over while Lily accepted with eagerness. Swallowing his seed and creating the lewdest sounds he’d ever heard, despite visiting every bordello in Italy with Brandon.
Sweet licks tenderly lapped at his semi-deflated cock—cleaning him in a manner so caring and wifely, a direct opposition to the aftercare of prostitutes he’d seen—that he felt his heart squeeze in response.
“Along with your language, you brought back voyeuristic tendencies, as well.” The raspy tone of Lily’s voice revived another spark of lust, its seductive nature luring him in like a siren’s song.
“It’s because of all the hiding we used to do.”
Her ensuing snicker made him hopeful of a time when they would no longer hide from each other.
It’ll come. Complete trust will bloom again.
Lily laid a string of kisses across his pelvis, sneaking underneath his shirt to brush his abdomen before returning him to his trousers and stumbling to her feet. He caught her arms in his hands and drew her in for a hug of gratitude. While not the most salacious of holds, his arms wrapped around her expanding waist and hers circling his shoulders held its own power of contentment. It settled his mind and heart with its simplicity.
“Perhaps, you’re right,” his wife murmured, resting her cheek on his chest. “Though, there’s something to be said for voyeurism, I suppose. If I’d never caught that maid, then I never would’ve imagined taking you in my mouth, and what a tragedy that would’ve been because I quite enjoyed the experience.”
Laughter burst from Owen and startled the cats, the horses, probably even the birds in the rafters, and he couldn’t give a damn.
The Earl of Trent was reveling in his wife’s candid banter, adoring her brazen ways.