The Letter

by Emma Wildes

  “I’m not sure about any perfections I have,” Patricia retorted, feeling his fingers begin to caress and wander over her skin. Her eyes drifted half-shut with the pleasure of his deft touch. “But I do know I don’t understand why you decided to tie me to the bed. I have never denied you your husbandly rights, Jared, and even though we quarreled this evening, I never would.”

  “I tied you because I like the sight of you bared and submissive. I find it arousing. Tell me the truth.” His dark gaze was steady and probing as his long, strong fingers cupped her pliant flesh. When I spanked you back in the carriage, did it excite you?”

  Admitting that it had was out of the question. She quickly shook her head against the tangled length of her hair.

  “I’m sorry, my dear, daring duchess, but your body can’t lie, didn’t you know that? You were getting wet already, well before I put my fingers here.” His free hand found the intimate place between her legs and touched her, while the other continued to toy with her breast.

  “Wet?” she gasped as his fingers probed her sensitive cleft.

  With a small smile on his well-shaped mouth, he explained, “All these past nights since we married and engaged in conjugal relations, the reason I kissed you and touched your breasts was not only for my pleasure, but so your body would ready to accept me. His fingers delved between her folds, gently rubbing a spot that made her catch her breath. “When I touch here it is so you become interested, shall we say, in my attentions. When you are wet, sex is pleasurable. If you aren’t, it hurts a woman. I am interested in your pleasure.”

  “This education is fascinating.” Her words were almost vague. All her attention was centered on the dual stimulation of her breast and the growing ache between her legs.

  Her wetness was certainly not in question, for she could feel the seep of arousal with the slick motion of his fingers.

  “And long overdue. My fault, of course, as I am the more experienced of us. Accept my apologies, but I have obviously never been married before either. I thought being a gentleman in bed with my wife was the proper thing to do” His voice dropped suggestively. “Not so, since spanking apparently stimulates you.”

  So did his roving hands, of that there was no doubt. Patricia watched helplessly as her husband leaned over and began to suckle her nipples, one and then the other. She felt them harden in the heated recess of his mouth, tightening into puckered straining peaks. His hair, so thick and soft, brushed her sensitive flesh and she longed to run her fingers through it. It felt decadent to have her prone body at his disposal, and when he drifted lower and licked a determined path down her stomach, she wanted to object but couldn’t. Somehow he was right, being the consummate gentleman had not raised in her the level of humming excitement she felt now under his dominant masculine control.

  His mouth grazed her pubic hair. Her heart suddenly slammed in her chest as she felt his warm breath on the apex between her thighs. As she watched, he lifted one leg and bent her knee, setting it down with her foot flat on the bed. Doing the same with the other and pushing her knees wide apart, he leaned between her open legs.

  “This is something I have been longing to do, but was afraid it would shock you,” he said thickly, staring at her exposed and available sex. When he leaned forward and cupped her bottom, she felt the invasion of his tongue insinuating itself between her delicate folds as he lifted her to his mouth. A low cry escaped her lips as he tasted her slit with exquisite care. Every nibble in that outrageous place made her moan despite her ladylike conviction that it was wrong for him to put his mouth there, and worse, for her to make her enjoyment so vocal. Using his tongue, he penetrated her female opening, pushing wickedly inside her with long, wet strokes.

  It was shameless, but she spread her legs open as far as possible. As the pleasure built, her short, labored breaths filled the air. Jared’s eyes were closed, his lashes dark on his cheekbones as he tortured and fulfilled her body until she rushed into a place of glorious, mindless release, screaming his name as the sensation surged and rocked within her. Patricia felt the trembling aftershocks for what seemed like forever. He gently squeezed her inner thighs, lightly kissing her damp pubic hair until she relaxed with a final, deep sigh.

  When he moved over her, she willingly spread her legs to accept his penetration. Jared’s face was starkly intent as he pushed his rigid penis inside her now satiated body. When they had made love before, he’d always moved slowly, holding her close and loving her with soft words and gentle pressure until he finally stiffened and released his seed.

  This time was entirely different.

  He moved with impetuous hunger, thrusting into her so hard she shifted backwards on the soft sheets, sliding toward the bedpost. Bracing herself with her bound hands, Patricia held herself still for his insistent passion. The soft wet sounds of intercourse interspersed with her whimpers of pleasure. It felt glorious, she decided in almost dreamy reflection. To mate in such wild fashion and the fact he wanted her so much gave her a heightened sense of feminine power despite her submissive state. He climaxed with almost beautiful force, his final push bringing them together in fierce contact as he ejaculated with a low groan. The long length of his shaft was as far inside her passage as possible, powerfully pulsing and flexing.

  Still bound to the bed, Patricia smiled. “Perhaps,” she whispered huskily, “I need to have more escapades, my lord.”

  Chapter 2

  Despite the early February snow that sifted from steel gray skies, Jared felt quite cheerful as he entered his solicitor’s office and shook the moisture from his hair. “Good afternoon, George.”

  Thickset and dark, with shrewd light blue eyes, the man sitting behind the desk looked surprised. “Jared, how are you? My assistant said you were here. If this visit is about those shipping contracts, we’re still waiting on one signature. I’ll bring them to you as usual, of course, when they’re all in order.”

  It was true, since Jared was a busy man and held George Carlton on retainer to handle the legal aspects of his many holdings, they usually did business in Jared’s study. “I was out already,” Jared said, “and thought I’d take a chance on you being here. This is about an entirely different matter.”

  “I see. Please, sit down then. Brandy?”

  “Certainly.” Jared lifted a brow and sat down comfortably. Unlike his own well-kept desk, George’s office overflowed with piles of paper, open legal books, and scattered half-empty cups of tepid tea. It would drive him insane to spend his day in such a disorderly mess. He was not sure how on earth George ever found anything in the chaos, but the man was an excellent solicitor, and to his knowledge had never lost an important document. They had actually attended school together and known each other since childhood. George, being the youngest son of a baronet, took law because he needed to earn a living. Rummaging on a shelf behind a haphazard stack of boxes, his friend eventually emerged triumphantly with two balloon glasses of brandy and handed one over.

  Jared accepted with a nod of thanks and George settled back behind his desk, taking a sip and asking delicately, “How is the duchess? As beautiful as ever, I am sure.”

  “Actually, I’m here about Patricia,” Jared admitted, lifting his drink.

  “You aren’t wanting to petition for divorce, are you?” George asked dryly. “I hear she is leading you on a bit of a merry chase. Your rather public removal of her person from a certain questionable theater last evening made the society section of this afternoon’s paper.”

  “Hell,” Jared muttered, sinking a little lower in his chair. “I was afraid of something like that. Still, I definitely got my point across, so I suppose it’s worth a few more whispers.”

  “Husbands everywhere applaud you, I’m sure.” A chuckle rang out.

  “Go ahead and laugh, George. Blood and thunder, I can’t follow her around every second of the day—she has to have a sense for own safety, not to mention propriety. I guess my mistake was thinking if I simply told her to not attend the p
lay, she would listen to me.”

  “Since I can’t picture you being satisfied with a meek, spiritless woman, perhaps her sense of adventure is what appeals to you,” George suggested diplomatically. “Get her pregnant as soon as possible. That will settle her down, and I can’t imagine it would be an unpleasant chore.”

  Remembering the unbridled passion he had shared with his young bride the night before made Jared smile inwardly, all his irritation with her gone. He’d simply and plainly fucked her—no doubt about that, since there had been no flowery words of love and not even so much as a kiss. Patricia had responded to the basic carnal approach with surprising abandon and he was a little curious to see what else would make his lovely bride wild in his arms. Later, they had made love with slow, insistent need and she had enjoyed that too, much more than she ever had before. But that first time had been explosive.

  In fact, he had a few ideas of what else might please them both.

  He could still picture her lying there, her splendid breasts uplifted and displayed because of her hands being bound above her head, her slender form framed by the spill of her soft waist-length golden hair. Those aqua eyes had been half-veiled by her lashes as he thrust into her warm, receptive body…

  In a noncommittal tone, Jared said, “That’s good advice and I am working on it. Let’s just say we discussed her disobedience in a horizontal position and she seemed inclined to take my point of view.”

  George laughed out loud, his shrewd eyes amused. “As a married man, I find a disagreement often makes for a pleasant resolution myself. Now, what can I do for you? I take it from your current expression that my jest about divorce is the furthest thing from your mind.”

  “I’m unfashionably taken with my wife,” Jared admitted. “And as you say, you have been married quite some time. I want to get her something special, a gift. The Tellbourne jewels are extensive and she can choose from an entire vault of assorted jewelry, so that seems redundant. Her allowance is generous so she lacks for nothing, which is what I want, of course, but it makes it difficult to purchase anything for her. If you have any ideas, I would appreciate it. As you know, I can afford to indulge her.”

  “Hmm…a challenge. What does one of the richest men in England buy his new wayward, but beautiful, bride?” Draining his brandy glass, George frowned. “I will have to ponder this, and perhaps consult with Lila. She, as a woman, might think of something that we would never imagine. Females are interesting—if distracting—creatures. There is no doubt they do not think as we do. My wife might come up with an idea for your young duchess, Jared.”

  “I wish it to be a surprise to celebrate the beginning of our married life. Hence my visit here to ask your advice. I implicitly trust your discretion.”

  George smiled comfortably, leaning back in the chair behind his cluttered desk. “I think, my friend, your married life is going to be full of surprises.”

  * * * *

  Sinking lower into the warm water, Patricia sighed. It was snowing again outside, and though there was a lively fire in the hearth of her bedroom, she had felt chill from what was almost a week of incessant bad weather, so she had ordered up a hot bath. The water felt soothing and she blissfully reclined back, not even opening her eyes when she heard her maid come in and quietly shut the door behind her. She murmured, “I am not ready to get out, Mary. Give me another half an hour, or so, will you? I’ll ring when I need you.”

  “I rather hoped you’d need me on a constant basis, my lady.”

  The sound of the rich, deep voice made her eyes open instantly and she half sat up in surprise. “Jared?”

  “I certainly hope no other gentlemen wander freely into your boudoir.”

  “Of…of course not,” she stammered, off balance by his unprecedented intrusion into her bedroom in the middle of the afternoon. Her husband was dressed very casually for him in a white shirt, tight black breeches, and Hessian boots. Normally every inch the royal duke, he almost never went without a perfectly tailored jacket and cravat, even at home. “You don’t even wander in here,” she pointed out, slipping back down, suddenly aware of her bare, soapy breasts above the water. “Usually I don’t see you all day.”

  “My mistake.” He studied her with lazy, level male assessment. “If I had known you were wet and naked at this time of the afternoon, I am sure I would have adjusted my schedule long ago to accommodate a conjugal visit.”

  Her pulse began to race. His suggestive meaning was clear, and she couldn’t seem to help it, memories from the night before flooded back. He had given her acute and incredible erotic pleasure and the difference in the way he treated her, as an object of his sexual desire, was vividly fresh in her mind. “You can’t be serious. Now?”

  “Completely serious.” Moving forward, Jared knelt by the tub, leaning over to kiss her, his mouth moving lightly against hers. The barest touch of his tongue tasted her lower lip. “I want you,” he said frankly, leaning back on his heels and unbuttoning his cuffs to roll up his sleeves. “Here, to expedite the process, let me help you finish. Since you know my affection for them, let me wash these.”

  The glide of his hands over her wet breasts was divine. He lifted the supple weighted flesh, shaping and holding it under the warm water. Patricia wasn’t sure if she had died and gone to heaven, but it seemed more likely some sort of pagan paradise. Her nipples rose instantly from the sudsy water, pointed and aroused at his insistent touch. Leaning her head back, she swallowed hard, giving herself over to the magical feeling of being caressed and the knowledge that he was going to make love to her at this unusual time of the day.

  The sound of the door opening barely registered, but Patricia felt her husband’s hands go still. Then he said calmly, “I’ll help the duchess with her bath. Please see we aren’t disturbed.”

  Realizing that her maid stood in the doorway her mouth hanging slightly open before she hastily retreated, Patricia felt a wave of mortified heat rise into her face. “Oh God.”

  “We’re married,” Jared said, looking completely unfazed and continuing his supposed ‘help’ with her bath. “Married people make love, darling.”

  “She saw you touching me like this,” she whispered. “You do realize in seconds everyone in this house will know what we are doing.”

  “So?” A laugh lighting his handsome face, he said, “For someone so prone to impulsive adventure, my dear, you are modest to a fault. Here, I think you are superbly wet, lovely and ready. Out of the water, dearest, and we’ll proceed.”

  At his urging she stood, water streaming off her body, still feeling acutely embarrassed by being caught with her husband’s hands holding her breasts—though she supposed he was right, they were husband and wife and sexual relations were to be expected.

  Jared wrapped the towel around her body and lifted her in his arms. Taking her to the bed and laying her on her back, he dried her slowly, deliberately rubbing the cloth over her damp flesh as she gazed up at him. Unless a person was blind they could see the impressive bulge in his tight breeches. She felt a scandalous wish for him to tie her up again and use her like the night before. She also liked it when he held her and loved her the other way, with more finesse and less urgency.

  “Unpin your hair. I like it loose so I can touch it.”

  A small shiver of anticipation rippled through her body and she obeyed, shaking out her heavy tresses.

  “Let’s take care of this first.” Jared pulled a small black silk sack out of his pocket.

  “Take care of what?” Curious, she raised up on her elbows, watching as he extracted a small, slim metal object. There was also a tiny vial that slipped into his palm.

  “A little fantasy of mine,” he explained in a teasing tone. “Spread your legs, darling, and stay very still.”

  “What?” Considering he was still fully dressed and she was completely nude in the middle of the day, a slight flush touched her cheeks.

  “Lay back and don’t move.”

  The order had an edge
of authoritative aristocratic privilege that she had heard before, but not usually directed at her. Although it seemed decadent and unnatural, she did as she was bid, slowly opening her thighs a little. Jared, however, wanted nothing but complete capitulation and he put his hands on her knees, gently separating them. To her surprise, he then trickled the contents of the vial across her cleft. The substance was slick as he smeared it over her sex with long fingers.

  “Now,” he said with a husky note to his voice, “this is sharp, my love. Relax. I want to see you bare.”

  The object in his hand was a razor she realized when she felt the first gentle scrape against the tender skin of her labia. Not sure if she was intrigued or appalled, she let him shave her pubic hair, even to the point when he lifted her bottom slightly. He took his time, careful and intent, and Patricia submitted once she realized what he was doing, not wanting a nasty cut on that particularly sensitive part of her body.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t read of women who removed all the hair from their bodies. In fact, in some cultures it was considered common practice. It was just a little unsettling that Jared wanted her to do so.

  When he finished, he took the towel and gently wiped away the residue of the lotion, and then stood back, his stare fastened between her still open legs. “Perfect,” he breathed.

  “You want this?” To her own surprise, she slightly opened further in explicit invitation under that heated scrutiny. She felt an intoxicating desire in every pore of her body and it gave her the courage to ask the question in a sultry seductive tone.

  “Hell, yes,” he said inelegantly. His hands went to his breeches, his handsome face taut with need.