Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Well, proper guests, not bachelor guests. That was a different sort of entertaining, one the servants didn’t always like.
And he didn’t miss it. In his youth, he’d feared marriage would leave him yearning for the courtesans at Pearl’s, his rollicking late nights, and his freedom. Now he watched Elizabeth run about, creating a dignified social event to show off their home and gardens, and swelled with a sort of domestic pride.
Amid other swollen feelings.
“Elizabeth.” He caught his wife as she hurried past him in the downstairs hall. “The party’s not for hours yet. Perhaps you’d like to take a break…”
“A break?” She pushed back some wisps of dark hair that had fallen from her unruly bun. “The refreshments are…well…I know cook has that in hand, and the footmen are deciding where to stand to direct the arriving guests, and Mr. Donovan has promised two tents—”
“Which they are setting up now.”
“And I shall need to get dressed, and have Meryl do my hair—”
“How long will that take?” He pulled her closer, dropped a kiss on her forehead, then her neck. “No more than an hour, I suppose.”
“Oh.” Her hands crept up his chest as she perceived his amorous mood. “No more than an hour. Yes.”
“So you have a little time to rest. Or do other things.”
“Other things?” She looked about, going pink.
“Relaxing things. Come. I’ll play the piano for you, darling. I’ve been neglecting my music of late.”
The music hall was just a couple doors down from where they stood. It was smaller than the grand music chamber at St. Pierre, where he’d given her illicit piano lessons and spanked her for being an irresistible tease. But somehow this intimate space in town was just as resonant. The piano was newer as well. He dismissed the footman on duty in the hallway before firmly shutting the door.
She sat beside him on the bench and fidgeted now and again as he played. Perhaps she thought he meant to spank her as he had at lessons. He had a habit of turning her over his knee whenever the mood struck him, and she acceded gracefully, but at this moment, he wanted something more. He wanted to perform beautiful songs for her before he fucked her. And yes, he did intend to fuck her, in this room where he’d played the piano so many lonely hours as a bachelor.
Beautiful wife, he thought. I love you. I want you. When Felicity roams our garden a few hours from now, you’ll know I only desire you.
He played a meditative piece, with repetitive chords and phrases, then a grand, sweeping overture. She watched his hands, her side pressed against his.
“You feel the music so deeply,” she said when he finished. “I can sense it in your body. In your fingers and hands.”
“I feel something else right now.” He helped her discover the thick evidence of arousal in his trousers. “Speaking of fingers and hands…”
She began to stroke him through the fabric. He tried to be casual, restrained, but she soon awakened the animal inside him, along with its uncivilized groans and growls.
“Now,” he said, opening his trousers. “I need you now, darling.”
“Here?”
“Here. No one will come.” He guided her hand along his sensitive length. “They’re all busy preparing for your party.”
“Oh.”
“Come on then.”
He lifted her before him on the bench, so she straddled his lap. Her arse came down on the keys, hitting a dissonant chord that echoed loudly in the small space and had them both laughing. He slid the bench back while she struggled with her skirts. He tugged aside her pantalettes and slid a finger inside her, then another. Thank God, his naughty faerie was wet.
“Are you sure no one will come?”
“If they do, they’ll leave before we notice them, you may be sure.”
He held her tensing buttocks with one spread hand and used the other to wedge himself into her hot, welcoming pussy.
“Oh, August.” She clung to him, her fingers twisting in his hair. “Ohhh.”
Her guttural sigh was all the permission he needed to take her hard and fast. Each thrust was ecstasy made real, resonating deep in his balls. He gave her pleasure in return, freeing her breasts from her low bodice, sucking the tips, making her moan. He ground against the sensitive button at her pussy’s apex, teased and buffeted it to make her gasp. He wanted that button in his mouth, under his tongue. He wanted to be everywhere inside her, all at once. He wanted to do everything to her, but also just one thing—fuck her senseless.
“Please, harder,” she whispered as he squeezed her hips. “Harder.”
He bottomed out inside her, bouncing her on his surging member. She arched her back and met him thrust for thrust, until her backside hit the keys again, and again, and again…
The resulting, rhythmic din was the perfect accompaniment to their gasping finale. She fell apart, reaching her completion, going wild in his arms. He held her close, held her safe, and finished just after her, the piano’s notes still ringing in the aftermath. He realized his foot was braced upon the damper pedal, sustaining the jarring chord.