In the stark quiet of the room, even more austere without her warmth and laughter, Ethan sat back in his chair and rested his chin on his hand. Others would call it pure insanity, but the more time he spent with Madeline the more he wanted, and he found himself wanting to make some sort of declaration. It might have been a week, but it felt like he’d known her forever and that they could literally talk about anything. As for the fucking, he’d never imagined it could be so good, with a strong indication that it would get better and better.
If only he had something to offer her other than a hard cock and a barely solvent title.
Anger surged, and he swept a hand across the desk, sending an empty silver inkpot crashing to the floor.
Damn his circumstances to hell.
One more moment in this drawing room, and she would be carted away to Bedlam.
Gritting her teeth, Madeline took a tiny sip of warm lemonade. If Lady Portia were here, she would have told all of them to go to the devil. Clayton would stay only to sketch the most annoying attendees as farm animals. Beatrice would probably tear her own gown hem as an excuse to retire. And yet she, Madeline Upcott, England’s infamous Wicked Widow, couldn’t make herself leave.
It was so much worse knowing right now she could be experiencing the ecstasy of both Ethan’s cock and Florentine leather. Instead, she stood surrounded by vacuous chatter while her mother, Penelope, plus Faith and Winifred took turns shoving her in the direction of men they considered eligible. When they weren’t scolding her for eating a second berry tart because no prospective husband wanted a glutton, of course.
Ethan didn’t seem to mind her appetite. Although in fairness, she did need the sustenance to support their hours and hours of bedding and banter and laughing.
Good grief, how she enjoyed his company. And although her head warned the bubble of perfection would burst eventually, her body remained greedy for his stern words and sure touch. Was it his scholarly pursuits that made him such a fast learner, and able to remember in minute detail exactly how and where she liked to be pleasured? His travels were certainly responsible for his lack of prudery or set ways in what might be appropriate for a woman to say or read or experience.
Truth be told, she wanted so much more than an affair from Ethan. But he was so damned young. And had only been with one woman. It would be ridiculous to ask him to settle down into marriage and children after a week’s liaison, no matter how extraordinary the week had been.
“Good afternoon, Lady Upcott. Shocking weather we are enduring, what.”
Madeline turned and forced herself to smile at some unknown dandy wearing far too much lace and reeking of perfume. The weather was unexceptionally cool and damp for October, but judging by the peevish tone, nothing pleased this older gentleman. “Good afternoon. Tis true, winter is fast approaching.”
“I’ll be returning to London, soon enough. Wish I had property somewhere other than Surrey. Ghastly county. And nothing of note ever happens in Guildford. Well, apart from your dear relatives descending. About time they did; no good comes of a woman given freedom, that is a fact.”
She inwardly groaned as Penelope turned and batted her lashes at the obnoxious man. “I couldn’t agree more, Sir Horace. Some ladies require a much firmer hand to guide them than others.”
“Are you saying I need to be spanked?” said Madeline sweetly. “There are numerous establishments that cater for that, marriage is not required.”
Penelope wheezed in a breath. “Madeline.”
“I say,” said Sir Horace, stepping back. “You shouldn’t know about that sort of thing, let alone speak about it.”
Madeline tilted her head. “But I do know about it, sir. Do you? Or perhaps the harsher kiss of the birch or flogger is more your preference?”
The dandy went purple. “Impertinence! You are altogether far too free with your opinions, my lady. I regret I will not be offering, no matter how fetching your face and figure.”
“Let me assure you, sir, the regret is entirely yours. But in the spirit of cordiality, I could give you a letter of introduction to Mrs. Berkley in Soho Square. If it’s birching you seek, there is none better in London.”
Sir Horace made a choking sound and nearly sprinted away.
“What are you doing?” hissed Penelope, clamping her bony fingers around Madeline’s elbow. “He is a baronet! With a charming townhouse in London, ten thousand a year, and his late mother’s rubies!”
“I don’t care about rubies,” said Madeline irritably. “Nor do I want a sickly-looking husband who reeks of perfume and sweat, and wears more lace than I do.”
“How wicked and selfish you are. We barely make ends meet on the money you send us. The least you can do is marry a wealthy man so we can live as we should. Otherwise we may all have to move in with you.”
Barely quelling a horrified scream, Madeline took a calming breath. “I’m surprised you haven’t suggested Lord Dare.”
“What? He’s only three-and-twenty. And heathenish. A proper English lord would never allow his skin to darken so, nor spend so much time with foreigners. Besides, if Mr. Smyth’s friends are correct, Dare doesn’t have a feather to fly with.”
Startled, Madeline folded her arms and glared. “My brother should spend less time with gossips, and more on finding gainful employment. Perhaps a trade…”
Penelope swooned. A cry went up from several nearby young ladies, loud enough to interrupt the string quartet. Every head turned, including, unfortunately, her mother, Faith, and Winifred, and the trio raced over.
“Madeline! What did you do?” asked her mother, as she knelt down to wave a vial of hartshorn under Penelope’s nose.
“What did you say?” demanded Winifred.
“Just wait until Lord Dare hears of this,” added Faith smugly. “Shaming your own family as well as ours!”
“Hears of what?” said a deep and wonderfully familiar voice.
Her heart lifting at the unexpected boon, Madeline turned to Ethan. “Good afternoon, my lord.”
Penelope sat up, miraculously recovered. “Do not be playing ladylike now, Madeline Upcott. You chased away your sixth possible suitor and have positively ruined the Sainsbury’s musicale.”
“Well,” said Ethan coldly. “If that is the way of it, then the privilege of attending must be revoked. I will escort Lady Upcott home and ensure she is repentant for her actions.”
Torn between laughter and fierce arousal, Madeline kept her head bowed lest anyone see her true feelings. The opportunity to leave this wretched affair early was delightful enough, but the threat of discipline… What would Ethan do to her? Might it involve the dildo they hadn’t had time to try? Even the thought made her nipples taut, and pussy dampen. “Please…no…” she mumbled, trying her very best to sound mournful. “I’ll behave.”
“Too late,” crowed Faith. “Dare’s mind is made up. And I’m sure we don’t need to remind his lordship what sparing the rod achieves.”
“Worry not, cousin,” said Ethan. “There is no chance of that. Come along, Lady Upcott.”
On that deliciously promising note she was discreetly hauled from the drawing room, and minutes later, they were ensconced in Ethan’s carriage.
“So,” he said thoughtfully, his gaze unreadable. “Exactly how wicked were you?”
She rolled her eyes. “On our scale, or theirs?”
“Actions have consequences, madam,” he replied, his tone hardening.
Oh God.
“Such as?” she asked, not even bothering to temper her eagerness.
Ethan paused for a just a moment, as though weighing something in his mind. Then he removed his jacket, and rolled up the sleeves of his fine linen shirt. “Depending on the level of wickedness, it might be your nipples pinched. Perhaps that charming leather dildo deep in your ass. Or it could be…a spanking.”
Madeline squirmed on the leather squab, her pussy throbbing unbearably. “In that case, I fear I was very, very wicked.”
; He smiled, his amber gaze pure molten fire. “Then prepare to accept your punishment.”
Nodding, Madeline lifted her gown, deliberately teasing him with a slow reveal of her legs and pussy until he growled with impatience. Then she braced her hands on the back of the seat and turned onto her knees, offering her bare backside for his delectation.
“I’m ready.”
His kingdom for paper and pencil.
Breathing shallowly, Ethan studied the portrait of perfection across the carriage from him. Not that a sketch would ever do her justice, but this pose seemed to capture the very essence of Madeline—submissive and yet so strong. Wildly adventurous. Sensual. Her rounded backside swayed gently with the rocking motion of the carriage, her thighs were spread wide, and he could see—and scent—the delicious spicy glisten of her want.
Knowing she wished to be disciplined, to experiment with spanking and the leather dildo made him harder than he’d ever been in his life. And yet a frisson of doubt plagued him. What if he hurt her? It wasn’t like he had any experience at this.
“Ethan?”
He glanced up to see Madeline biting her lip. Well. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one struggling with the occasion. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life,” he said roughly. “But I have a concern. I mean…I would hate to accidentally…”
“Hurt me?” she said softly, and at once her trepidation cleared into such tenderness he almost had to look away as a boulder lodged in his throat. “You won’t. I know that because you have the exact temperament for this kind of play. So calm and controlled. But how about we have a special word that means to stop at once? Either of us can use it if something isn’t working or isn’t as pleasurable as we’d like. Perhaps…ice?”
Relief coursed through his veins, both at her confidence in him, and such a solid, practical idea. “Ice it is,” he replied, unfastening his trousers to ease the unbearable constriction. Then he leaned forward and ran his hands over the creamy expanse of her backside, before administering one brisk swat.
She shivered. “Harder.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Harder…please,” she said thickly.
“Better.”
Soon her backside was bright pink, her guttural whimpers echoing in the carriage, and her cunt and inner thighs dripping with fragrant juices. Indeed, it seemed he had a modicum of talent for this. But now he wanted to up the stakes.
“E-Ethan? Why did you stop?”
“I’m not sure you are learning your lesson. Perhaps if I put this dildo into your disobedient ass…”
“You brought it?”
“I did.”
“Yes! I mean…I accept I need further p-punishment, my lord.”
His cock jerked hard. But under no circumstances would he come before she did, no matter how great the temptation.
Hooking his finger through the gold ring at the end of the leather, he rubbed the dildo against the soaked folds of her labia, even delving it inside her cunt, until it became slick with her juices. Then he teased the tight rosette of her back entrance, and slowly, carefully began to push the dildo inside her.
Madeline moaned, her hips tilting to offer better access, even as her tight internal walls resisted the initial entry. “Yes…please, yes. Feels…oh God…”
He pressed on with shallow, delicate thrusts, in and out, until the lustrous leather was fully embedded in her ass, and she cried out his name.
“Something the matter, sweetheart?”
“Let…let me c-come.”
Unlikely. Madeline hadn’t quite reached the point of desperate need, and he wanted her total surrender. Not just today, but always. The notion that she saw him as an amusing young toy, a hard cock to sate her during an otherwise irritating familial visit rather than a potential husband, was utterly maddening. He hated leaving her bed before dawn to avoid the servants. Hated withdrawing to come, when the thought of cradling her belly as it grew big, of a nursery alive with their children’s laughter, had become so damned appealing. After Madeline, he couldn’t even begin to contemplate a pious well-bred virgin as his wife and viscountess like his relatives suggested.
And yet how did Madeline feel about him, really? Certainly she liked bedding him. But more than that? Would she be willing to accept a man sans fortune and the difficulties that would bring?
Scowling, Ethan ran his fingers over the heated, silken flesh of her ass, before delivering a harsh swat. “No. You can’t come. Not yet.”
She quivered, her gasp loud in the confined space. “But…but we’ll be back home any m-moment now.”
“On the contrary, my lady,” he replied, rotating the dildo until she moaned. “I instructed my driver to take the scenic way. It could be another half-hour, at least.”
“I won’t survive.”
Me neither.
Ethan stroked the inside of her thigh, skating up and around her mound while avoiding her labia and clitoris entirely. “You will.”
“Damn you!” Madeline replied, her voice cracking.
Magnanimous in victory, he bent down and licked the swollen, wet folds of her cunt. She sobbed, a raw, frantic sound, and the head of his cock grew slick with moisture. “That’s not very nice, sweetheart. Actually, I’m starting to think you do require a second husband to properly manage these insatiable desires of yours.”
“But none are s-suitable! I refuse to be caged again by prudishness. And I believe in loyalty; I won’t take lovers when I do remarry. So he must b-be a man who can give me what I n-need.”
Like me.
“I know you need to be fucked hard and often,” Ethan said idly, circling her swollen clitoris with his thumb, anything to distract from his throbbing, painfully engorged cock. “And that you enjoy explicit talk, moderate-to-firm spanking, and pleasure toys. What else do you require? Help me understand. Perhaps I might…know of someone.”
Madeline titled her hips in a brazen attempt at friction against her clitoris, but he was having none of that. Instead, he brushed his knuckles against her drenched nether curls.
She wailed in frustration. “Someone to c-care for me. A man who wants children, and will be a k-kind and attentive f-father…”
Ethan sucked in a breath as hope soared, and in reward for her candor, he turned his hand over and penetrated her with two fingers. “And?”
“Oh God…ah…loyal. S-settled. Experienced. Old enough to have s-sown all his wild oats. And wealthy. He must be wealthy…”
“I see.” The bitter truth cut deeply. No matter what he did, his age and lack of lovers would always be held against him. And she’d just shown an unpleasant similarity to every other ton lady when it came to money. Well then. For his sanity to stay intact, this would have to be the last time between them. He certainly wouldn’t accept only part of her, nor did he have any desire to watch her succeed in finding this bloody damned paragon of a husband.
Swiftly, he flipped Madeline over then hauled her onto his lap so one knee fell either side of his thighs. Then he swirled the head of his cock in her wetness.
“Yes,” she said with a choked moan.
“Poor lady. Your cunt aching to be filled up?” he bit out.
She stilled. “Ethan?”
“What? You want to come, I’ll make you come. Hard.”
“Is…is something wrong?” she whispered, her eyes wide and vulnerable.
“Not at all. You’ve been an excellent tutor,” he replied, hardening his heart, even as he fitted the engorged head of his cock to her entrance and thrust brutally deep.
Madeline screamed, her fingernails almost shredding his shirt as she began climaxing violently, the powerful grip and release of her inner walls alongside the unforgiving pressure of the dildo in her ass incredible. He fucked her harder, rutting like an animal, and yet he couldn’t stop himself lifting a hand to cup her cheek.
Seconds later she came again, clinging to him and burrowing her face into his shoulder as her whole body shuddered. Ethan could only roar as he yanked
free of her scalding heat, fisting his cock and letting his seed burst free all over her mound and inner thighs in several prolonged and agonizingly pleasurable spurts.
Utterly sated, and yet hollow inside.
Chapter 4
Something was horribly wrong.
Her stomach churning, Madeline stared at her untouched bowl of tomato soup. She’d thought she could eat a six-course banquet and demand more after the afternoon’s glorious excesses in Ethan’s carriage, but now her appetite had thoroughly deserted her.
How could he be so cool and remote? So very precise and proper? This couldn’t be the man who mere hours ago had spanked her behind until it burned, tormented her to incoherent madness with a dildo, tongue, and fingers, then made her come so hard—twice— that she’d almost fainted. Yes, she had sensed tension in him before he took her, but when he’d tenderly cupped her cheek…
She had yearned.
To be Lady Dare. To spend every night in his arms being pleasured and pleasuring in return. To spend their days reading and discussing and traveling, exploring and learning each other even as they explored and learned foreign lands. To give him sons and daughters that they would love and care for together. To be different from Sir Josiah’s ilk and oversee their lands and tenants with consideration, practicality, and a modern-thinking eye.
Oh, how she’d yearned.
Yet now Ethan was treating her as though she were a vague acquaintance to be tolerated. And his family—and hers for that matter—were following his lead.
“For heaven’s sake, Madeline,” said Penelope with a haughty sniff. “Stop playing with your soup and eat it. You aren’t a toddler in the nursery.”
She gritted her teeth. Imagining her sister-in-law wearing the soup tureen offered some comfort. “You’re right, I’m not. And while you are residing under my roof, you may keep your opinions on my dining habits to yourself.”
“Well! Such rudeness in front of his lordship.”
“This shouldn’t be your roof,” added Faith sourly. “I can’t even imagine the depravity that has occurred here since the passing of dear Josiah, God rest him.”
To Tame a Wicked Widow (Surrey SFS Book 2) Page 4