Wickedly Yours (The Wickeds Book 4)

by Kathleen Ayers

  When she didn’t answer immediately, he gently squeezed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger until she whispered, “Yes. You seem to like me in blue.”

  “I have wanted you for a very long time, Arabella. I watched you at the few balls you attended, until you no longer went out. Difficult and dour woman that you are.” Lips fell against hers, gentle and coaxing. “Do you wonder any longer why I came for you?”

  “No.” Arabella’s body melted as she threaded her fingers through the damp strands of his hair. The tips of her breasts rubbed deliciously against his chest, the sensitive peaks chafing against the lace and silk in an almost painful way. She moved her hands to cup both sides of his face, feeling the brush of his whiskers against the palms of her hands, and opened her mouth to his.

  A low primitive sound rumbled from deep in his chest. Grabbing her hips, he edged closer to the bed. “Lie down.”

  A small feeling of trepidation mixed with the anticipation coursing through her. She backed up against the coverlet on her elbows, the nightgown inching up to bare her thighs as she did so.

  Rowan appeared large and predatory as he pushed her knees apart to stand between her legs. “This,” he tugged at the nightgown, “must come off, Arabella.” Deft fingers tugged at the fragile ribbon holding the neck of the garment together.

  A slight tearing sound met her ears as her breasts spilled out, her nipples hardening in the cool air of the room. His hands opened and circled the mounds, squeezing and rubbing the pads of his thumbs against the small peaks.

  “Jesus, you’re beautiful.” Then he ripped the remainder of the fragile material with one sharp jerk of his hand.

  She lay before him as if she were indeed a virgin about to be sacrificed to some pagan god. Rowan certainly looked the part as he loomed over her prone body. Half his large form lay in shadow while firelight gilded the other portion of his body with gold, his eyes dark with hunger as if he wished to devour her.

  His hands stroked up the side of one breast, then down her side, tracing each rib. Fingers wove through the soft hair between her legs. “Finally, mine,” he whispered. “Every bit of your darkness belongs to me.”

  An intoxicating haze of pleasure fell over her as she watched him. Rowan understood her as no one else ever had. Accepted her. She was full of darkness and sometimes it threatened to overwhelm her.

  “Yes.” She sucked in her breath as the warmth of his mouth enveloped her nipple. His tongue tortured her breast, nipping and sucking until her entire body throbbed with the need for more.

  His mouth left her breast and Arabella sighed in disappointment. He gave a quiet laugh as his lips pressed the underside of her breast before nibbling down her skin. Teeth grazed across her stomach making the muscles jump and twitch in pleasure.

  This was the most exquisite form of torture. Her breathing became rough as every movement of his mouth sent another shock of moisture to her core. When he finally made his way to her navel, he paused.

  “I think about tasting you, Bella.” He murmured between nips of her flesh. “I want to savor you like fine wine.”

  “Rowan.” His name left her lips almost like a plea. Her entire body ached and throbbed. Arabella knew what he wanted. Where he intended to put his mouth. She’d heard of such things, of course, but the thought of such being done to her? Arabella’s legs squeezed shut.

  “No, sweetheart. These are never to be shut to me.” He nipped at her thigh. “You’ll like this, Bella. I promise.” A finger slid through her damp folds, gliding over the softness. Teasing her. “You are as beautiful here as everywhere else.”

  Arabella found she couldn’t speak. Her hips twisted against him as the finger teased her already swollen flesh. He avoided the center of her pleasure and instead seemed content to stroke and caress her sensitive folds. It was maddening.

  One finger slid inside her, thrusting gently.

  “This is what you like.” His breath was hot against her thigh.

  “Yes.” Arabella was panting like a wild animal, the need within her growing to a feverish pitch as it had the night he’d touched her in the coach.

  Another finger followed the first, stretching and thrusting. Soft pressure fell against the small bit of flesh hidden within her folds as Rowan pressed his thumb to her in a rotating motion. “The things I wish to do to you, my lovely wife. So many things. We will spend whole days in bed.” He pressed the underside of the small bundle of nerves and her hips lifted.

  “Yes,” she choked out, nearly mindless from the pleasure surging through her body.

  “Think how much better this will feel when I use my mouth.” One hand cupped her buttock and pressed her up towards his waiting mouth. He blew a soft puff of air through the hair of her mound. “You are lovely here. Do you ever touch yourself, Bella?”

  “No—” Arabella fisted the coverlet in each hand as his tongue caressed her folds. Each stroke sent bolts of sensation across her body.

  “I don’t think you’re being truthful.” He paused, waiting.

  “Yes, but—”

  His mouth and tongue moved in unison, suckling her tender flesh until the lightest touch caused her to whimper. “Please.” She arched trying to position herself more fully in his mouth. Bits of fire broke and flamed across her skin. The pressure intensified to a fever pitch. “Please, Rowan.” She was begging. Pleading.

  The fingers inside her curled.

  Arabella threw back her head. He was killing her. Every nerve in her body coiled tight, ready to spring.

  Rowan sucked her into his mouth, allowing the tip of his teeth to brush across the swollen piece of flesh.

  White spots flashed before her eyes as her entire body arched and held before violently breaking apart. She cried out his name, her hands clutching at the coverlet atop the bed as the tremors surged through her body.

  Rowan held her down, his mouth drawing out each contraction of her body, fingers moving inside her, drawing out her pleasure until Arabella lay limp and panting on the bed. Her eyes fluttered open to see Rowan’s dark head between her thighs. She felt blissful. Positively wanton.

  He kissed the inside of her thigh and looked up at her with a feral smile. Looming over her on all fours, possession flickered in the depths of his hazel eyes, as he leaned in to nuzzle the side of her neck. She felt the hard press of him as he positioned himself at her entrance.

  “I’ll try to be gentle, Arabella. But I’m—”

  “Large.” Heat fanned her cheeks. Ridiculous, considering what he’d just done to her. “Of course, I don’t have anything to compare it to.” She sputtered. “What if it doesn’t fit?”

  A trace of a smile crossed his lips before he kissed her gently.

  She kissed him back, tasting herself. “I may be a little frightened.”

  His arms were tight, the cords of his muscles taut as he strove to keep himself in check. Slowly, he moved, pressing into her. She was slick and wet but still Arabella felt as if she were being stretched apart.

  Arabella’s body immediately clenched. She tried to close her legs.

  “Relax, love.” He whispered against her cheek. “I don’t wish to hurt you more than is necessary.”

  Her hands clenched the hard lines of his buttocks, pulling him closer. “I know you won’t hurt me.” She kissed his neck, relishing the taste of his skin, then his mouth. Nipping his bottom lip, Arabella claimed his mouth with all the ferocity welling inside her, willing him to take her.

  A low growl came from Rowan’s chest. He thrust deep inside her with one stroke, seating himself more fully between her thighs.

  A painful cry of surprise left her mouth. She bucked beneath him, her body wishing to throw off the intruder. Dear God, it hurt. He was too big. He would tear her apart. Rip her to shreds. She shut her eyes, blinking furiously, ashamed when a tear ran down her cheek.

  Rowan didn’t move. Kissing the tear running down her cheek he whispered, “I’m sorry. There was no help for it.” He murmured soft, nonsensic
al words to her. His lips found her eyelids, the corner of her mouth, the curve of her jaw, each word and kiss soothing Arabella until she relaxed.

  She could feel him, hard and pulsing deep inside her.

  Rowan pulled out a halfway then thrust again.

  Arabella clutched at his arms, knowing he was taking great care to not hurt her further. The pain abated with each sure stroke to be replaced with a mild burning sensation. Her insides felt battered and stretched to their limits. What had her mother liked about this act so much? No wonder they called it a duty. How in the world would she ever get used to this—”

  Rowan took another deep, smooth stroke, and moved so that his body caught hers. The barest glimmer of the pleasure she’d experienced before resurfaced. “Oh.”

  “Oh, indeed. I see you are not impressed. I’ll have to work harder, Lady Malden.”

  Each stroke teased to renew the pleasure she experienced before. Tentatively, she moved her hips, trying to find the pace he set.

  “Better?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, instead Rowan’s hand moved sinuously between their bodies, caressing her until she could feel the tightness coiling within her once more.

  He lifted her hips up and took up a steady rhythm. His fingers would move between them, touching her just enough to drive her mad without offering the release she sought.

  “Please, Rowan. Please.” Arabella was a writhing ravenous thing. Begging for something only Rowan could give her. “Harder.” Madness had come over her and she wished to break and shatter.

  “Wait for me.” Rowan nipped at the lobe of her ear. “Wait.”

  He pounded into her, stroking her flesh only once more before the orgasm slammed into Arabella. Her entire body arched against him as the pleasure radiated through her. She sobbed, her nails digging into the flesh of his back. Her body clamped down around his and she heard his breath catch.

  “Jesus.” He whispered. “I told you to wait.” He thrust into her almost painfully, gripping her hips, all sign of the gentle lover gone. The cords of his neck tightened as he thrust one last time, and his breath left his lips in a soft moan as he collapsed against her.

  Arabella lay panting with Rowan’s weight atop her, her skin tingling as blood pumped through her limbs. She could hear his heart beating with hers, tasted the salt of his skin with her lips. Possessively, she clasped him tighter not willing for this feeling to end.

  Somewhere along all her mistakes and bitterness, she’d done something she never thought would be possible. Especially for her.

  She’d fallen in love.

  29

  Christ.

  Rowan’s heart hammered in his chest. Rolling to his side, he was surprised to hear her slight protest as his body left hers. “Shhh.” His mouth brushed hers. “I’m heavy.”

  A smile crossed her lips as her eyes fluttered closed. “Yes, but I like it.” She looked peaceful. Happy.

  His heart skipped a beat seeing that slight twist to her lips. The strength of her joy filled the air around them. When had her happiness become so important to him? He was giddy at the slightest hint of a smile from her lips. Pressing a kiss to her temple he smoothed back the dark mass of her hair, marveling at the softness of the strands. He threaded his fingers through the curls marveling at the way they slid through his fingers like silk to float gently over his chest.

  “The things I will do to you, Bella,” he whispered, already wanting her again. If he were to put into words what he felt at that moment, Rowan would have said, completion.

  “I will allow it.” She snuggled closer. “I feel the worst is over and thus can continue to tolerate your attentions.”

  “Don’t be too sure.” He nibbled on her ear.

  Pushing herself up on an elbow, the dark pools of her eyes wandered over his face. She looked seductive and wild with her hair spilling over her naked shoulders, not a bit of virginal shyness apparent. Thank God she’d been dressing like a governess for most of her life or he’d be challenging half the men in the ton to duels despite her sour manner. She was rarely sour with him, however. Arabella could even be described as pleasant lately. Jemma jokingly asked at the wedding if Rowan was giving Arabella laudanum to make her more amenable.

  He would like to think her change in manner was because of him.

  Rowan was not a jealous man by nature. He bore affection for some of his bed partners and others had been purely for physical reasons. There had never been any commitment between he and his lovers. No promises made. Certainly, he’d not been possessive of any of those women. But none of those relationships compared to the way he felt about Arabella.

  Challenging. Far more intelligent than was good for a woman. Dark. Prone to deceit. There were many ways to describe her.

  Mine.

  He’d known from the moment Lady Cupps-Foster asked him to retrieve her from Corbett. He went because she was his.

  Her hand, slim and pale, trailed down his chest, the fingers threading through the dark hair. The hand paused at one of his nipples, rolling it gently between her fingers. She cast a sideways glance at him, wanting to see if her touch affected him. She moved her hand farther, splaying it across the center of his stomach. Her nails gently raked his skin.

  This was interesting. His cock twitched at her approach.

  Closing his eyes, Rowan was content to allow her to explore. Her touch, neither innocent nor experienced, was incredibly arousing. She paused at the line of hair which led below his waist.

  “Go on.” He whispered. “Unless you are afraid.”

  A snort of disbelief met his ears, followed by her fingers wrapping around the length of him. “I am many things, Malden, but not a coward.”

  “Indeed not, my love.” His breath sucked in as her fingers circled his shaft. She gave him a light, exploratory stroke as if gauging his reaction. When he gave a grunt of pleasure she continued in her ministrations. “No more Malden.” He choked out. “We agreed.” A groan left his lips.

  “Oh, yes. I forgot.” She paused. “Did I not do that right? Are you sore as well?”

  “I’m not sore.” But his cock was swelling painfully beneath her touch. If she kept this up he would take her again and she was sore. His hand covered hers.

  The dark eyes narrowed. “I am too bold.”

  He could feel her retreating from him, even though she hadn’t moved. Arabella was so sensitive to the slightest rejection. He would need to be careful and pay close attention to his words and actions until she trusted him.

  A frown started to form on her beautiful lips.

  “Bella.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed the end of her nose. “I happen to like your boldness. But even though I am not sore, you are. If you persist in your…worship of me—”

  A small laugh escaped her. “Worship? Oh my, you are very full of yourself, Malden.”

  Her laughter aroused him more than any touch of her hand.

  “Rowan. Next I know, you will be writing an ode to my eyes. Good Lord, or perhaps my,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Cock.” She said the word with absolutely no hesitation.

  Christ. The way her lips moved as she said the word. She hadn’t even blushed. Keeping his voice solemn he said, “Yes. Imagine the scandal. Even though I must admit, it is deserving of an ode or two.”

  Arabella giggled. It was the most beautiful sound Rowan had ever heard. Her laughter was the most potent of aphrodisiacs. His fingers ran across her ribs, gratified when she squirmed and twisted from his touch. Arabella, dour, austere woman, was ticklish.

  “Stop, I beg you.” Her lips parted in invitation as she spoke, the words turning seductive.

  Rowan wrapped her hair around his wrist and pulled her mouth to his. “Bella,” he said against her lips, “you will be very sore tomorrow.”

  30

  The next several weeks passed in a cloud of absolute bliss.

  Rowan, contrary to many gentlemen, enjoyed having an intelligent wife. She knew this because h
e told her so, asking her opinions on a variety of subjects. Rowan was fascinated with steam power, engines, railroads, anything connected to transportation. He was not interested in the way a scientist would be, but rather from a financial standpoint.

  The renovations of the Newsome textile mills were a huge topic of conversation as he sought the best men to make the modernizations. He continued to advise several of his business acquaintances on investments and other financial matters. Arabella soon found herself hosting a small dinner party with several gentlemen and their wives. All of the men were in trade and enormously wealthy. She watched, fascinated, as Rowan picked their brains under the guise of his charm and affability. He made quiet deals in the days after the dinner party, becoming a silent partner so as not to stir up talk of his being in ‘trade.’ Her husband’s thirst for business and creating wealth was insatiable.

  As was his thirst for Arabella.

  She’d been unprepared for the unbridled desire her husband had for her. The delights of Arabella’s marriage often left her abed until mid-morning, her body still throbbing from her husband’s attentions. Nor did he leave her after they made love. Rowan was adamant that they not sleep apart, even if, on those rare occasions, all they did was actually sleep.

  While he spent his days away from the house, he made a point to dine with her in the evenings. One night he surprised her with a picnic in the garden. After nibbling on cold chicken and a bottle of wine, he lay down on the blanket and pulled her to him. For hours they did nothing but look up at the stars as he pointed out the various constellations. Neither of them was particularly enamored of mythology, so they spent the time piecing things together and arguing over who had the story of Cassiopeia correct. After being proven incorrect in her assumptions, Arabella was forced to pay a forfeit. Rowan stripped her naked beneath the large tree in the garden and made love to her in the cool grass. After, shivering from the cold, he wrapped her in the blanket and snuck her back into the house and carried her to bed.