by Ella Edon
Jerome’s finger slid between the thatch of hair between her legs and Louisa thought she might explode. Somehow, she found herself on her back, gripping the covers as he continued his torture. He ran his finger up and down, round and around the nubbin that laid there while his mouth continued to drive her insane. It was unlike anything she’d felt before and Louisa wanted more of it.
She writhed under the expertise of his fingers and his tongue. Jerome tugged lightly at her nipple with his teeth before he dipped a single finger inside her. Louisa gasped loudly, reaching out blindly. The room seemed to fall away when he slowly, gently, eased another finger in and curled it against her. And again, and again. Building up speed, never stopping, as if spurred on by the way she panted his name.
Her body jerked with the climax she could feel coming. Louisa tried to say the words aloud, but she couldn’t manage it. Not when she was up against his quick fingers and his slick tongue. He moved on to the other nipple and then ran his tongue away from her breast down to her navel. She tensed when he began to go lower, but she couldn’t find her words. Though she wanted to ask what he planned on doing, she could only stare in disbelief as he buried his nose into the curls between her thighs and she felt his cold tongue against her.
Louisa thought she might truly lose her mind.
The pleasure was far more than she could have ever imagined. She was a squirming mess, held in place by a strong arm as he slid his tongue between his lips while his fingers continued to curl inside her. Without being able to prepare, her climax ripped through her body and left her shuddering
“Now,” she panted, her eyes closed. It didn’t make sense. She remembered thinking that even as she spoke. Her body was sagging into the bed, but she wanted more from him, needed to feel him inside her. She wouldn’t question it.
Louisa didn’t see his expression when he lifted her head, but she could imagine that he smiled before he positioned himself above her. This time, he went in much more smoothly than before.
Louisa threw her arms around his neck as he steadily began to build his speed. She was right there with him and, together, they created a rhythm that only they knew. She could feel her climax coming, even as she panted his name. Jerome didn’t stop for a second, his powerful thrusts enough to drive her over the edge.
When she reached her peak, she screamed. Or at least it felt like it, though everything disappeared. She couldn’t see the room around her, nor could she hear anything but Jerome’s resounding grunts in her ear, in the throes of his own climax. All Louisa knew was that she wanted to have this blissful moment again and again for the rest of her life.
Her body was sated by the time the effects wore off and Jerome sank to her side. He gathered her into his arms and she curled up against his chest without hesitation. “I love you,” she told him again.
His chuckle rocked her body. “I don’t think I will ever tire of hearing that.”
“Would you like for me to tell you once a week?” she teased.
“Can I not have it every day?”
“Now you are asking for too much,” she grumbled and smiled when he laughed again.
“Very well, then, I will take what I can get.” He held her tighter. “I love you too, Louisa. And I am never letting you go.”
Nothing made her feel safer than those words. Louisa let her eyes drift shut, let herself truly relax. “Good,” she murmured. “Because I will not leave your side ever again.”
The End?
Extended Epilogue
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Afterword
Thank you for reading my novel, Wedded to the Wicked Lord. I really hope you enjoyed it! If you did, could you please be so kind to write a review HERE?
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Wicked Warwick Wives
Book#1
Defying the Dashing Duke
Book#2 (this book)
Wedded to the Wicked Lord
Do you want more Romance?
Turn on the next page to read the first chapters of my previous best-selling novel: The Duchess’s Ultimate Surrender
This is the story of two people whose fate brought them together for the second time. She was seeking freedom and he was seeking revenge. But if a man can rise from the dead, surely a past sparkle can ignite a new flame. That's the thing about fire, it either warms or burns you to dust…
The Duchess’s Ultimate Surrender
Prologue
Lord Edmund Blackheart, Viscount Cranley, sat on the red cushion that was situated on the right side of the hearth. Furious was not a strong enough word for his feelings at that point in time, for his emotions ran deeper than rage. He was hurt as well. He could not remember how his life was before Loftus Allen, who later become the Duke of Loringham, had ruined it. Perhaps he did remember, but the pain that the Duke had caused him overshadowed all the good things he had experienced before.
Knowing that the Duke could not be harmed now, for he had been executed, irked Edmund. The news that Loftus Allen, who had been his enemy for many years, was executed for being a traitor had reached him days after his beheading. Execution was a small price to pay for all the harm Loftus had caused while he lived. Edmund recalled too well how his life had changed so drastically by the lies the Duke had made up about him.
Edmund had been loyal to the Crown since the day he had dedicated his life to the army. The result of the lie against him was now visible on his right arm. Loftus had been envious that Edmund was praised for his hard work and progress in the service, so he decided to put an end to it. Right before Loftus had set Edmund up with letters from their enemies, he had told Edmund that he would make sure he was no longer favoured.
Edmund awoke the next day to a furious lieutenant who questioned his loyalty. Edmund had sworn that he was loyal, but the lieutenant had requested that his tent be searched. Edmund had been so confident that nothing would be found, but he had been wrong. His tent was filled with letters that he knew not of. Letters that were not of his doing.
Loftus had come forward to claim that he often saw Edmund walking towards the south at night and meeting with the enemies. The lieutenant had been so disappointed. He said death would have been too easy for him. So, he asked that Edmund's lower arm was cut off as a punishment. So that when he looked down at it, he would always remember what he had done. Although Edmund now wore a prosthetic arm, he still recalled what had been done to him.
Too ashamed to return home, for he knew that his father would never accept a failure as a son and his mother would die of a heart attack seeing that he had not only lost an arm but was branded a traitor, he swore himself to a life of secrecy in the army. He took up the undercover work assigned to him in France, for it would be better for him to be assumed dead than for him to return to his father a failure.
Years later, he received a letter from a trusted friend in England that said both his parents had passed. And he who was believed dead had inherited all that his father had left behind, including the title that he did not deserve. He never felt the need to show himself again. Instead, he took up their home in the faraway countryside and resided there.
Edmund could not help but remember. And now the man who had caused him all this pain was gone, just like that. But he did hope to get his revenge one way or another, which was why he and his group of men had come up with this plot in the first place.
"Are you listening, Edmund?" he heard Cecil call. This brought him back to his surroundings. Cecil, who was relaxed on the chaise lounge opposite Edmund, raised a brow.” Are you certain that you shall be able to take my place? You do not seem to like this idea at all. You dr
ift off each time we begin discussing the phases."
Edmund picked up the glass of brandy that sat on the table between them.”Nonsense, Cecil. When have you known me to be afraid of a plan?"
Cecil shook his head. “Never. But your reaction frightens me."
Edmund shrugged. He took a sip of the scotch and placed it back on the table. “Death is too small a punishment for Loftus Allen to pay."
Cecil looked at the men on either side of him. Then, he sighed. “I agree with you, Edmund, which is why we are taking this action. His widow was also a traitor and she was allowed to go free. We must take matters into our own hands. Who knows how she managed to deceive the counsel?”
Edmund stomped his feet. “Still not enough."
Cecil nodded. “Not nearly, but it is all that can be done to set everything right. The Duke and Duchess of Loringham have caused enough harm, and it is only right that they pay for it."
Edmund nodded. Cecil was right. It should do. “So, how do we go about this?"
"My sources tell me that the former Duchess has made plans to leave for Brighton three days from now. She shall take the old path, through Richmond. And that is where we shall intercept her carriage and take her away,” Cecil said.
Cecil knew everything about the plan. He was the mastermind. He had come up with the plan and relayed it to the rest of them. Seeing as Edmund was their leader, they had asked for his approval, and he had given it. Edmund was to participate in the abduction alongside George. Cecil would be unable to because he had lost a leg in battlefield. Edmund wished that Cecil could be with them.
Cecil was always so effective in carrying out missions. When Edmund had brought together the guerillas three years ago, it had been for a mission to a traitor country. But after that, they had disbanded. They united again upon hearing of the death of Loftus Allen, who they shared as a mutual enemy. Loftus had brought harm to each of them, one way or another.
"The Duchess is said to be traveling alone with a coachman,” said Cecil, looking about. “It would be easy to carry out the plan then.”
"How do we tell it is the Duchess, then? We have never seen her before," said George, rising from Cecil's side and walking over to stand by the hearth.
Cecil grinned. “She is said to be pale-skinned with hair the colour of flames. Petite, calm, but cunning. Her eyes are green. She is a smart one. To have survived being wed to that reptile Loftus, she is as devious as they come.”
Edmund creased his brows. “Have you seen the lady before, Cecil?"
"Yes. Remember when I tried to infiltrate the home of the Duke? I saw the Duchess then. She seems so calm and meek, but she is very calculating. She had a scar on her right wrist. I cannot tell what it is.”
Edmund's heart skipped. The description seemed very familiar to him. Could it be the woman he knew from all those years ago, before he joined the army? Could she be the one? He did not know much about anything that went on in society as the years passed. He did not pay attention to anything or anyone since he left the army and retired to this remote area.
But Cecil's description of the Duchess seemed all too familiar to the lady he knew. Edmund had heard that she’d wed not long after she ended their courtship, but he had been too hurt to make further enquiries about her life, or to know whom she’d wed.
Although Cecil spoke on, Edmund was lost to him. His mind drifted to her. Lady Rachael Goodwill. He had intended to wed her, but certain circumstances had prevented it. Circumstances that had been caused by her betrayal. He shook his head. There was certainly no way it could be her. The description only reminded him of her. But it had been too long. Eight years too long to be remembering her.
What he needed to do was focus on the plan. Cecil was done speaking by the time his mind returned to them.
"The plan is set. We leave a day before her proposed day of departure in order to be able to meet up," George said.
Eric smiled. “A good plan, indeed.”
Edmund nodded as well, forcing a smile and pretending that his mind was with them though it had drifted. He arose and excused himself. He walked into the room next to the drawing room and shut the door behind him. He did what he had not done in years. He went to the small wooden box that was situated at the far end of the room, behind the old vase. He moved the vase aside and knelt by the box.
The box that held memories of his life before. Memories of who he had been before his hand had been cut off. He shoved aside the clothes that covered the true secrets that lay in the box. His paintings. He stopped digging when he came across a large paper folded like a scroll. Very slowly, he took it out of the box and unfolded it. He sucked in a breath as he stared at a painting of his lost love, Miss Rachael Goodwill.
He had hoped never to see her again. Was fate now being cruel with him? Was it not enough that he had suffered all those years ago? What sin had he committed for such serendipity to fall in his path? For the sake of them both, he hoped that the lady they planned to abduct was not her, or else everything would be a disaster.
Chapter One
Oftentimes, it was said that the morning was to bring good tidings. However, on that particular morning, Lady Rachael Allen felt lesser than she had felt the day before. Her spirits were low, and her heart was burdened. Her life had changed forever by the execution of her husband. Since the day she had watched him beheaded at the square, she had been uneasy. Perhaps she should never have been present for such an execution. But how could she resist? She had wanted to be certain that he truly paid for his sins.
She had wanted some assurance that he would never hurt her—or anybody else—ever again. She had wanted him to look her in the eye as he experienced pain, so he would know that she was free from him. From all the years of emotional abuse that he had rendered upon her. She wanted him to know that in the end she had won, because she was alive and free. However, the effects of her watching him die had not been what she had expected. Because even after death, she still felt his presence in her life. She had returned home to his scent, to his paintings on the wall, to the vases he loved to place by the tables, to the dead roses he never let her water, and to the quaint scarves he often bought for her on his way back from Paris.
That night, when Rachael returned home, she had cried in the drawing room, sprawled on the floor across the hearth. She had cried because the pain had been too much to bear, because even in death, it still felt as though he were holding her back.
For years, Rachael had lived the life her father had wanted for her. The life of affluence with the Duke of Loringham. The life where she lacked for nothing. Except her father had been wrong. She did lack the one thing her mother had always wished for her. Happiness.
Her husband, Loftus Allen, had been a traitor to the Crown. He had allied with French spies to bring down the throne, and his actions had brought about his downfall. Lady Rachael had known that his evil deeds would catch up with him quite soon, but she had not been sure when or how. She should have left him. She should have fled when she still had the chance, but she had not, because she had been afraid of what he might do to her.
He had been a ruthless man. And now his actions had not only affected him, but her as well. While the king had pardoned her, she was still seen by many as a traitor. She was still known as the wife of a traitor. She no longer wanted to be associated with such a title, which was why she had decided to leave everything behind and move to a remote village.
Her friend, Lady Emma Blackmoor, who had also been involved in the case, as her father-in-law had also been a traitor, had left everything behind and moved away to a remote village to start anew with her family. Emma had encouraged her to do the same. But she did not know where to go, which was why she had told Emma that she would stay with them for a while. Until she figured out what else she wished to do.
Rachael stared into the mirror before her, but the lady she saw was foreign to her. Her red hair was packed up in a neat bun, her skin paler than usual. Her eyes had bags under them from cryi
ng too much about her ruined life.
"Do you not wish to wear the gloves, Your Grace? It is quite cold outside," Maria, her lady's maid, said from behind her. The voice startled Rachael. She gasped when she saw Maria staring at her through the mirror, reminded of a time not so long ago. Loftus often snuck up on her so. He would walk behind her quietly until he was so close to her that she did not know, and only then would he speak. She wondered how he could be so silent.
Her teeth clenched. Determination marred her face. She was going to move on from the life that he had subjected her to. She was going to move away from everything that reminded her of him, so she could live a better life. She had to stop hovering around and leave. There was nothing left for her here. She was going to pursue her own happiness. Never again did she want a life like the one she’d had with Loftus. Never again would she live that kind of life, and she would make certain of it.