“You have me, my heart, and every part of me, too,” he said. “Every atom’s atom.”
He slid his finger across the seam of her mouth until her lips parted. And then he could not resist dipping inside. She sucked, and all the blood inside him rushed to his prick. He was rigid, ready, aching to be inside her.
His campaign of wooing her had meant foregoing making love, and his body was painfully aware of that fact now, with an armful of lush woman pressed to his body and her mouth wrapped around his finger the way he longed to see it on another portion of his anatomy.
“Damn it, woman,” he growled.
He had wanted to be sweet and tender with her tonight. It felt like a celebration. A true homecoming. But she was making him wild, and he had only been in her chamber for five minutes.
She raked her teeth over the pad of his forefinger, then nipped him.
His cock twitched.
“Language, Lord Shelbourne,” she chastised softly when she had released his finger.
“Forgive me, love. Clearly, it is time to put my tongue to other, better uses.”
She bit her lip. And that was it. He was done.
His mouth slammed down on hers. Kissing her hard. Showing her with his lips everything he wanted to say. He had given her enough words. Now, he had something more to give her: himself.
He made short work of her dressing gown and his. They were on the bed, a tangle of arms, legs, and tongues. He kissed his way down her body. The elegant protrusion of her collarbone. The soft, supple curves of her breasts, all creamy and smooth. He sucked on a sweet nipple until she moaned, and then he continued. Down her belly. His hands traveled over her hips, worshipping the subtle flare of them. He rained kisses over her mound as her legs parted.
Her pearl was swollen and pink, her folds glistening with the sheen of her desire. Heaven. It was heaven. She was heaven. And he had to have her on his tongue. He licked over her, quick, steady pulses designed to drive her mad. She rocked beneath him, her fingers threading through his hair and tugging.
The pull at his roots spurred him on. The taste of her was rich on his tongue, musky, delicious, Julianna. She was slick and hot and silken. He thought he could feast upon her like this for hours, lashing her with his tongue, sliding inside her, teasing and tempting them both.
But his cockstand was a reminder that prolonging this madness for so long would prove impossible. He ground his cock into the mattress to ease the pressure building in his ballocks, but it only made him ache more.
He licked down her slit, drinking her up, keenly aware of her every breathy moan, the jerk of her hips. Then he drew her clitoris into his mouth again, using his teeth to gently bite.
She shuddered beneath him as she reached her crisis. He stayed there, licking and sucking until the last quake trembled through her, and then he rose, determined to be inside her. But his wicked wife had other ideas.
She urged him to his back and rained kisses down his chest. Down his abdomen. Drawing ever nearer to his painfully erect cock. Surely she was not going to—
Her lips closed over the tip of him, and she sucked.
He clamped his jaw and fought for control. The sight of her, that fiery hair spread over her back, him in her mouth, was the most erotic scene he had ever beheld. Her tongue swirled around his cockhead. Her hand was on his ballocks, fondling gently, making mettle seep from him. Grasping his length, she pressed her tongue to that pearly bead, licking him up.
Fuck.
It was too much. He pulled her over him and rolled them as one so that he straddled her, his cock pressed to her center. He kissed her swiftly, the taste of her still on his lips, blending with the taste of himself on her tongue. Breathless, he raised his head, staring down at her, love for her thundering in his heart, desire for her pounding through his veins.
“I cannot withstand more of your exquisite torment, chérie. I need to be inside you now.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist. “What are you waiting for, my love?”
What indeed?
He plunged into her tight, wet heat. More heaven. More pleasure than he could handle. This lovemaking was beyond every time which had preceded it. Embracing the love he felt for her, knowing she loved him too—it heightened the gratification in a way he could not have predicted.
Sidney thrust. They sighed as one, their lips meeting in a long, drugging kiss as they found their rhythm together. She was drenched. So slick, and the glide of his cock in her channel had him on the verge of spending within a few strokes.
Her hips rose to meet him, urging him on. Her nails bit into his shoulders. Again and again, he rocked into her, harder, faster. Their kisses became ferocious. Their bodies moved in unison, reaching for unimaginable heights together.
When his fingers dipped between their joined bodies to find her swollen clitoris, she cried out into his mouth. Fast circles, pressure in just the right place, and she whimpered, begging for more without words. He gave it to her, working that greedy bud until she was quivering and clenching around him, the force of her spend making her throw her head back.
Heat licked up his spine. He was going to come inside her regardless of how much he wanted this union to last. She bit his shoulder as he fucked her in desperate, deep thrusts. The tattered remnants of his control were gone. He rolled his hips against hers and spent, flooding her with his seed. He came so long and so hard that dark stars speckled his vision as he collapsed atop her, heart hammering.
Gradually, reality restored itself. His body was still humming with the power of his release, but rational thoughts returned. He was atop Julianna in her bed. Her arms were wrapped around him tight, her hands traveling up and down his back in a steady caress.
His weight was pinning her to the mattress. Hell. He should roll off her, but that was the last thing he wanted to do. He could stay like this forever.
“Shall I move, love?” he rasped at last.
“Not yet,” she said. “I like you this close.”
He raised his head to gaze down at her, this fierce, beautiful woman he loved so much, and could not resist dropping a kiss on the freckled bridge of her nose. “Thank you for coming back to me, Julianna. For trusting in me. For trusting in us.”
“You are home,” she said simply.
Yes, he was. And so was she.
Epilogue
Women’s suffrage is a natural right. The time to rectify this egregious wrong is upon us. I advocate for equitable treatment and Parliamentary franchise for all, and I invite every man and woman to stand along with me. Together, we have the power to change the future for our daughters.
~Lord Shelbourne
from Lady’s Suffrage Society Times
Julianna dabbed some of her Lady Perfect’s Cold Cream to her cheeks as she sat before her looking glass. The rose and orange water, tinged with a hint of almond, provided an ideal, feminine note. She had been pleased when the factory Mr. Decker sold her had been able to produce her cream in large batches that matched perfectly to the smell and texture of the small lots of cream she had mixed herself.
She had been even more pleased when her new factory had been capable of producing enough cream for her business to ship to New York City, where the novelty of a cold cream developed by an aristocrat had undoubtedly contributed to its sales. From a quality standpoint, it made sense to produce the cream in the same factory, utilizing uniform ingredients. The care she took in her product reflected in sales.
Just this morning, she had received a telegram from New York City informing her that the demand for Lady Perfect’s was so high, every store carrying it had run out of stock. More orders were in place. She was already considering opening a second factory to aid in production, and she had only been selling her cream for a month.
“Congratulations on your success with Lady Perfect’s, darling. It has already exceeded your expectations.”
She smiled as she saw Sidney moving toward her in the looking glass. He was wearing a maroon, silk dr
essing gown, and his dark, wavy hair was deliciously tousled. His green eyes met hers, and heat unfurled within her.
“Thank you, my love. I could not have managed this without your help and support.” She finished rubbing the cream into her skin.
“Nonsense. You would have done it without me, and you know it. You are a frighteningly resourceful woman.” He reached her and swept her unbound hair to the side, revealing her neck so he could settle his mouth there, where she was particularly sensitive.
“Mmm.” She leaned against his chest, absorbing his heat and strength as he kissed behind her ear, then tongued the hollow there. “I do not want to do anything without you, however. You are quite stuck with me, I am afraid.”
He nibbled on her earlobe. “You are stuck with me as well, chérie.”
“I would not have it any other way,” she said, nuzzling him with her cheek, a rush of love so deep and consuming going through her that it left her breathless. “I am so happy, Sidney. Happier than I ever thought possible. Sometimes it frightens me, as if everything is too wonderful, and I shall wake to discover this was all a dream and that you were never mine at all.”
He kissed her throat as he caressed from her shoulders to her breasts. “Does this feel like a dream?”
His thumbs toyed with her nipples through the fine fabric of her night rail. She arched into his knowing touch, filling his palms.
“It feels wonderful,” she said.
He plucked at her nipples, tugging on them and bringing an ache pulsing to life between her thighs. “How about now?”
“Mmm.” She smiled as their gazes met in the looking glass. “I am not certain, my lord, but I think you are seeking to distract me.”
“I am not seeking to distract you so much as I am seeking to prove this is not, in fact, a dream.” He kissed her crown. “And that I am, in fact, yours.” He kissed her cheek. “Inextricably.” He kissed her throat. “Eternally.” One more kiss on the shell of her ear for good measure. “Yours. All yours.”
Her breath caught as he gave her breasts a gentle squeeze. They were incredibly sensitive now, but he could not know that just yet. “I am afraid I may need some convincing, Lord Shelbourne.”
“Why Lady Shelbourne, you wicked minx, you.” He grinned as he sucked on her throat. “Whatever shall I do with you?”
“I have an idea or two.”
His busy hands had now glided down to her hips where he had clasped the skirt of her night rail in two fists and was slowly lifting the hem. It traveled higher, over her thighs in the whisper of a caress that had her shifting on the seat, desperate for more.
“If you do not tell me your ideas, I am going to have to bend you over this bench and fuck you senseless.”
His low baritone made her ache.
But before he distracted her completely, she recalled she wanted to tell him her news. “You will truly have to commit to improving your vulgar language, my lord. I will not have our second-born child’s first word be an epithet. It is miracle enough that Emily has not repeated any of your oaths yet.”
He stilled, and his face, which had been buried in her neck, raised once more. Their gazes clashed in the looking glass. “Our second-born child?”
“Yes.”
“We are going to have another baby?”
She smiled. “Yes. I wanted to wait until I was certain to tell you. I know it is a bit soon, but—”
With a whoop, he hauled her from her seat and spun her about to face him, taking her in his arms. His handsome face was a reflection of undeniable joy. And love, too. So much love.
“I cannot wait to meet her.” He kissed her swiftly. “Or him. My God, Julianna, this is wonderful news!”
Oh, her heart.
“You are happy?” she asked.
“Ecstatic, my love.” There was a sheen in his eyes as well.
She smiled. “Are you weeping, darling?”
“Of course not.” He sniffed. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“That makes two of us,” she said.
“No darling,” he corrected, grinning. “This shall make four of us.”
With a laugh, she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
The End
* * *
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Julianna and Sidney’s story! I hope you enjoyed this fourth book in my Notorious Ladies of London series as much as I loved writing it.
Please consider leaving an honest review of Lady Wicked. Reviews are greatly appreciated! If you’d like to keep up to date with my latest releases and series news, sign up for my newsletter here or follow me on Amazon or BookBub. Join my reader’s group on Facebook for bonus content, early excerpts, giveaways, and more.
If you’d like a preview of Lady Lawless, Book Five in the Notorious Ladies of London series, featuring the Duchess of Longleigh (at last, for those of you who have been asking for Tilly’s story) and the mysterious Adrian Hastings, do read on.
Until next time,
Scarlett
Preview of Lady Lawless
Tilly, the widowed Duchess of Longleigh, finally has everything she wants. Everything, that is, except for the forbidden man who stole her heart and fathered her child before disappearing from her life. Time has passed, but she has not forgotten him. Nor has she stopped longing for him. But when he mysteriously reappears in London, a ruthless stranger has taken the place of the lover she thought she knew.
Bedding the duchess was meant to be a job for Adrian Hastings and nothing more. The terms were simple: a month-long affair in exchange for the funds to start a new life far from the rumors and scandal tainting his past. He never intended to fall in love. Nor did he reckon on the betrayal that would almost cost him his life.
His return to England is with a sole purpose in mind, to gain his vengeance on the heartless widow. He won’t stop until he reveals her deepest, most shameful secrets to the world.
Unless she destroys him first…
The Duchess of Longleigh had spent much of her marriage fantasizing about the means by which she might bring about the demise of her husband the duke.
Poison in his soup.
A pillow to the face as he slept.
A facilitating push down the stairs when he was bosky on gin.
An errant shot whilst he was hunting pheasants.
A footpad who stole his coin and then shoved him into the path of an oncoming train at just the right moment.
Fortunately for His Grace, his wife had long-ago discovered she did not possess the capacity to plot and commit murder beyond the bounds of her desperate imagination. Unfortunately for His Grace, the fates had finally decreed that the Duke of Longleigh’s reign of terror on the terrestrial plane had come to an end. He had met his end in the form of a capsized boat and an inability to swim.
The symbolism had not been lost upon Tilly. She had spent the last few years of her life—ever since making the mistake of wedding the despicable duke—feeling as if she were drowning.
But that was all coming to an end today.
Because this morning, the spring sun had been golden and warm, piercing the city’s fog. Her son had begun walking on his own, quite early from what she understood, and she knew a mother’s unique pride at his advancement. And her period of mourning was at an end. Life, in all its purest forms, was beginning.
Which was why she was standing in the midst of a masque ball—her very first as hostess at Haddon House, for Longleigh had never permitted merriment of any sort unless it was his own. She was also a trifle in her cups, but that was to be expected, thanks to the champagne she had consumed both during her toilette and after.
But this was a celebration. Her widow’s weeds were gone. So, too, every reminder of her odious husband. His portrait had been removed to the attics, as had the busts and oils of the contemptible men and women who were his ancestors.
At least, Tilly assumed they were contemptable. What other sort of people would beget such odious, hateful spawn? Heartless
monsters, all of them, she was sure. Thank heavens her son, sweet little Robby, did not have the same vile blood running through his veins. For the Duke of Longleigh was not her son’s father.
She fanned her face, which had grown hot beneath her gem-encrusted half mask, and allowed herself a moment to indulge in the misery of longing for the man who had shared her bed, stolen her heart, and sired her son.
Robin.
Her heart.
She had loved him. Fiercely, utterly, deeply. And then, he had disappeared. She swallowed the same bile that rose in her throat whenever she thought about what could have become of him. Longleigh’s doing, she had no doubt. One more mystery her loathsome husband had taken with him when he had died. One more manner in which she had been helpless and at his mercy.
No more.
“Alone at your own fête, Your Grace? What is this travesty?”
The rich, jaded baritone of the man suddenly at her side was familiar.
Tilly turned to the Marquess of Dorset, whose dark hair, dazzling eyes, and striking jawline gave him away despite his mask. He was a flirt and a rogue, but he was also something she recognized in herself—a kindred soul with nothing left to lose. She liked him for that.
“No longer alone, it would seem,” she returned, wishing for more champagne.
“I am more than happy to volunteer myself for the task of keeping you company this evening,” he drawled, leaving no doubt that he did not merely refer to the ball or to the dinner which would follow, but to the night itself.
Longing skittered through her. Not for this man, but for another.
How much time had passed since she had been touched with tenderness? Since her heart had thudded hard and fast, since someone had kissed her passionately, brought her pleasure, made her feel alive? Far too much.
Not since Robin.
But as handsome as Dorset was, and as tempting as his offer, Tilly was not ready to make herself vulnerable to another man. Not now. Mayhap not ever.
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