Oh.
Someone had worked miracles to transform the space from a dark, forbidding room to something lighter and rather romantic. Most of the furniture had been moved to one corner, and the walls were draped in lengths of white and gold satin. Gold bows adorned the window, and flowers—paper flowers—had been fashioned into a heart shape, where Finn currently stood. But the way he was looking at her, with such open-mouthed awe…
Pippa blushed and bit her lip. Finn looked exceedingly handsome himself in formal black jacket, black trousers, embroidered silver waistcoat, and intricately arranged cravat. She’d scarcely noticed Exton standing nearby, and he usually dominated any space.
Archbishop Manners-Sutton beamed at her as Lord Kingsford placed her hand in Finn’s, then moved to join Xavier and Georgiana, who were sitting with Grandmother and Lady Pinehurst to the right. To the left, Lord Pinehurst had been propped up higher on pillows in his bed, and he deigned to give her a tiny nod. Behind him were the lawyers, bankers, and physicians, thankfully keeping their distance.
Finn rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles, making them tingle. “You look magnificent,” he whispered.
“Why thank you,” she whispered back. “As do you.”
“My lords, ladies, and gentlemen,” said the archbishop, as he opened his bible. “We are gathered here in the sight of God to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate…”
He had such a calm, soothing voice, and Pippa relaxed as the words washed over her like a gentle breeze. Due to Lord Pinehurst’s condition, certain non-essential parts of the ceremony had been set aside such as hymns and a sermon on the sanctity of marriage.
“…Therefore, if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace…”
Finn actually glanced around the chamber, and at the door, and Pippa nearly giggled. Surely, he didn’t think some lovelorn swain—or paid actor—would shoulder his way into the room? Although to be fair, she had glared rather forbiddingly in her grandmother’s direction.
“…Finlay Charles Knighton, wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” said Finn in a firm voice, rubbing her knuckles again.
The archbishop continued, “Pippa Pearl Nash, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” she said.
The rest of the ceremony passed in rather a blur, as they made promises to one another and Finn slid a delicate and surprisingly lovely emerald and pearl ring on her fourth finger. Then they knelt on two cushions, and the archbishop led them in prayer and a final blessing. Last of all, they both signed an official document with their full names to be added to the church records, and watched Lord Pinehurst’s secretary carefully enter the date and time of their marriage into the Knighton family bible.
Good lord. It was done. She was officially Viscountess Knighton.
For better or worse.
He was a married man. Pippa’s husband.
Even a few hours after the ceremony, since they’d signed documents, drank champagne, and eaten a remarkably sumptuous supper considering how much time the kitchens had been given to prepare, it was difficult to get his head around the fact.
But the lawyers and bankers had departed now, as had Archbishop Manners-Sutton, Gabriel, and the other Nash family members. His mother had retreated to her chamber, and the physicians would continue to examine Lord Pinehurst on an hourly basis and inform him immediately if his father deteriorated.
Finn was now alone in his bedchamber with Pippa.
And had no idea what to do or say.
Well, that wasn’t precisely true. He’d dreamed of a wedding night with Pippa for years. But how could he ask that of her after everything else? The fact that the ceremony and the supper had invigorated him didn’t mean she felt the same. Pippa might want nothing more than to collapse and sleep for a few days, which would be entirely understandable.
Gah. He’d literally just married his best friend. They talked nearly every day about every topic under the sun. Why was the thought of honest discussion suddenly so difficult?
Finn rocked on his heels. “I…er…apologize for the state of my room.”
Pippa sniffed and peered at him over her spectacles. “Are you implying you might have tidied had you known you’d be bringing a wife here? I don’t believe that for a moment, my lord husband.”
My lord husband.
Lust roared through his entire body, and he stifled a moan. Those words and a spectacle glance? His cock began to strain against his trousers. “We’re going to have to do something about your saucy tongue, Lady Knighton.”
“Are we?” she said as she kicked off her heeled slippers with a heartfelt sigh. “When?”
Finn swallowed hard. They both knew what she was really enquiring about. “That is entirely up to you. It has been a long and harrowing day.”
“I can confirm my tongue will remain saucy until these wretched stays are far away from my person and I’m bathed and wearing my nightgown,” Pippa replied, her cheeks pink.
His no-nonsense, practical wife actually blushing? Perhaps there was hope.
“Shall I send for the copper tub?” he asked.
“No, do not torment the kitchens any more this evening. I’ll just have a sponge bath. As Ruby returned to Kingsford House to pack my belongings…perhaps you would assist me?”
A growl of pure need rumbled in his chest, and his whole body throbbed with anticipation. Yet he was an uncertain virgin, too. Slow. Each act needed to be slow and steady. “I aim to please.”
Pippa quivered. “My gown. Then my petticoat and stays.”
He took a deep breath to calm his own jangling nerves. When was the right time to tell her the truth? That those novels she had learned how to handle his cock from were the same source he’d discovered the best way to rub her clitoris?
Damnation. Words could wait when his fingers itched to touch.
As previously, so he didn’t fumble, Finn made his movements measured and deliberate. First, he unfastened the three buttons at the back of her pretty green gown then carefully lifted the fabric over her head. Without waiting for him, Pippa yanked down her petticoats with uncharacteristic urgency. In retribution, he took his time with her stays, easing and tugging the silken cords until she practically rocked.
“Something the matter?” he asked mildly, as though he wasn’t equally eager, as though his cock wasn’t raging against its own fabric prison.
Dressed only in a knee-length linen chemise, Pippa turned to face him. Then she tugged open the ribbon holding the bodice together, exposing her small breasts tipped with dusky pink nipples.
All Finn could do was stare, his mouth watering to taste, to lick and suck and nip.
Her hands played with the hanging ribbon. “They are too small,” she mumbled.
“No,” he replied. “They are perfect.”
Pippa bit her lip, then with a shrug of her shoulders, she let the chemise fall to the floor and delicately stepped away. Now he could see every inch of her, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, the thick bush of blond curls covering her pussy.
God, his wife was beautiful.
“I’m going to warm up in front of the fire,” she said, seemingly more confident now as she adjusted her spectacles. “Perhaps you might bring some water and a sponge.”
Finn watched her walk, near-panting at the sway of her dimpled, rounded backside. It needed adornment. Perhaps the wink of a small jeweled dildo from
the Bliss collection, the one with the matching nipple clamps. God. It was far too easy to imagine Pippa writhing on a bed wearing nothing but her spectacles, her nipples swollen and throbbing under the harsh kiss of the clamps, her properly prepared arse stuffed full of dildo. How long would she last before begging for his tongue or cock so she might come?
With unsteady hands, Finn picked up a sponge and the porcelain bowl of water, then followed her over to the fireplace.
“You must stand still, Pippet,” he rasped, “while your husband attends to your bath.”
She obediently placed her hands atop her head, the movement causing the emerald hairclips to glimmer and her skin to look like molten honey in the shifting, dancing light of the red-gold flames.
Finn stood behind her and languidly dragged the wet sponge across her neck and shoulders, making her arch her back and giving him a glimpse of taut pink nipples. Then he pressed it against her shoulders and allowed the cool water to trickle down her front, anointing those tender peaks before continuing on to dampen the slight curve of her belly and settle in the thicket between her legs.
His wife whimpered. “Teasing me again.”
“Is me making you wet…making you wet?”
“Argh. I don’t want the chapter of sexual teasing. I want the paragraph. Hurry now.”
A grin tugged at his lips as he washed her lower back and hips at the speed of an elderly snail. Next, he knelt and sponged her legs, deliberately not touching her sweetly fragrant pussy even when she spread her thighs and tilted her hips, nearly shoving it in his face. “So impatient, Lady Knighton.”
“Finn,” she protested, moaning when he darted the sponge between her legs and rubbed her clitoris, before moving to wash her belly. Then he rose to his feet and ran the sponge back and forth over her nipples until she was breathing raggedly.
“There,” he said in satisfaction. “All done.”
“Hardly all done.”
“Poor disgruntled Pippet. One might think you were quite desperate to come.”
She fluttered her lashes at him, but the next thing he knew, those nimble fingers of hers had unfastened the buttons of his trouser fall, freeing his engorged cock.
“I don’t think I’m the only one,” Pippa purred, running a fingertip along his length.
“Wicked wife,” he chided, and just as quickly, trapped both her hands behind her back and arched her over one arm. Then with his free hand, he splayed his fingers at the center of her chest. Both his thumb and smallest finger were agonizingly close to her rock-hard nipples, but he merely stroked the satin skin of her breasts and traced her collarbone.
Pippa’s chest rose and fell as she writhed, trying to force him to touch her nipples. Provoked beyond endurance, Finn bent his head and lashed her left nipple with his tongue. She cried out, and he did it again and again, before fastening his lips around the taut bud and sucking voraciously.
“More,” she wailed. “Please. Touch my pussy. No, suck my nipples. I don’t know. Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
Finn gritted his teeth against another surge of lust, but seed was leaking from the head of his cock and the damned thing was on the verge of exploding. Reaching around, he brought one of her hands forward and pushed it between her legs, coating her fingers in the wetness from her soaked pussy. Then he wrapped her fingers around his cock.
“A contest,” he growled. “First to make the other come is the victor.”
“I’m going to win,” said Pippa, her smile both sinful and determined as she gripped his cock and slid her hand up and down.
Finn couldn’t suppress a groan of pleasure. Yet soon she groaned also as he shallowly penetrated her entrance with two fingers and teased her clitoris with his thumb.
They stared into each other’s eyes, inhaling night air sultry with the scents of wet pussy and seed and perspiration, the only sounds a sexual symphony of moans and gasps and slick fingers warring with the snap and crackle of the fire behind them.
He was going to lose. Pippa’s touch felt so, so good…
Yet just as his hips thrust, shoving his cock hard against her hand, she began grinding frantically against his palm. As he snarled in release and his seed burst forth in harsh, wracking spurts, her hot, wet pussy clamped around his fingers, pulsing wildly, and she shrieked his name.
They slumped against each other, each struggling to catch their breath.
“I think perhaps…an honorable draw?” he managed, scarcely able to form words because his mind was somewhere up among the stars.
Pippa rested her head against his chest. “Honorable?” she mumbled. “You teased me with the sponge. And you’re still fully dressed. I demand another game.”
Finn tangled his fingers in her hair. “As you wish, my lady.”
Pippa had never been a demanding woman. Usually, she was the rock that others leaned on, the keeper of secrets and provider of practical assistance. Someone who put others before herself.
But when Finn touched her…she always wanted more.
Being pleasured by him was intoxicating, a hunger that could never be sated. And tonight, she’d made the decision to set aside her cares and the rest of the intrusive world, so she could feast.
Pippa turned and rinsed her hands in the bowl of water, then unsure what to do with herself, she stepped back from Finn and folded her arms. While she craved more orgasms, being completely naked in front of her best friend would take some getting used to. “So…do you require a valet?”
“Are you offering?” he replied, his eyes glinting.
“If it gets you into bed faster, then yes.”
Finn laughed. “Greedy.”
“Guilty,” she said, in all seriousness. “Let me help you with your jacket.”
The contrary man made her wait again, removing each item of clothing like it was a priceless artifact, before draping them over a nearby chair. His shoulders and arms were pale and leanly muscled, his chest covered with a generous mat of crisp brown hair, perhaps a few shades darker than that on his head. She wanted to run her fingers through it. Rub her aching nipples against it.
Pippa glared at him, pressing her thighs together to ease her needy pussy, and he gazed at her with the wide-eyed innocence of a choirboy.
“Shoes and stockings next,” he murmured.
“Kick them off.”
“Pippa Pearl Knighton. Surely you aren’t giving me orders?”
She whimpered at his tone, so lighthearted and yet with an underlying hint of steel that said he commanded their play. Those growled words way back at the musicale should have been a clue; Finn absolutely could take control when he wanted to, she didn’t always have to lead the charge. That fact made her even wetter, and how on earth was that possible?
“Hardly,” she returned. “You’re the only one here who knows what to do. The master to my apprentice. And believe me, I am extremely relieved about that. It is one thing to have read textbooks and romance novels, but practical experience really surpasses both.”
Finn hesitated. “Indeed. A notorious rake, that’s me. Now, go and get into bed. A nightgown won’t be necessary.”
Heat jolted through her and she nearly sprinted over to the large bed. After pushing away the quilts, she climbed under the fine linen sheet and leaned back against the pillows, sighing in contentment at the sensual coolness against her overheated skin. Then she began idly petting the damp bush between her legs. “I should confess that I’m stroking my pussy right now.”
“If you give yourself an orgasm, you forfeit the game.”
She smiled sweetly. “But I don’t really lose, though, do I?”
“I guess it depends how badly you want my cock in that soaked pussy of yours. I can either have a lightning-fast sponge bath or an exceedingly slow one.”
Damn him, burning her up with those filthy, explicit words, just like the comte or the laird. He knew what she liked, a significant benefit to wedding one’s best friend.
Pippa squirmed on the bed. �
�Oh, very well,” she grumbled, holding up both hands. “See? Both where you can see them.”
“Good. Now pull down the sheet and play with your nipples. Pinch them. While I watch.”
Before her brain had even considered it, her hands moved to obey him, cupping the small mounds of her breasts and plucking the taut buds still tender from his earlier ministrations. “You’d better…oooh…be bathing quickly.”
She stopped when Finn removed his trousers and stood completely naked in the firelight. His thighs were hairy and well defined, his stomach flat. But it was his cock that transfixed her as he washed himself with the sponge; gracious it was thick.
“You are staring rather than pinching,” he said lazily.
“I’m thinking I probably need another orgasm before you try to er, plant that flagpole in fertile ground.”
Finn froze. “You dare use euphemisms in my presence? I think you forget who you are speaking to, madam.”
“Forgive me,” she said meekly, trying not to laugh in delight, for who else could she have such a conversation with? “What will you do?”
“First, I was planning to fuck your pussy with my tongue until you come in my mouth. I know the heady scent of your honey, and felt it on my fingers, but I’ve still not tasted it. I’m craving a taste.”
All amusement vanishing, Pippa shuddered with need as her clitoris throbbed unbearably. “So, you think to seduce me by quoting lines from A Wicked Comte, hmmm?”
“Is it working?”
God, yes.
She shrugged, and Finn marched over to the bed. He climbed on and prowled toward her on hands and knees, like some sort of fierce predator. Then he grasped the sheet in one hand and pulled it from her body.
Was it possible to orgasm from a gaze alone? Because the lust in his eyes was heating her blood to boiling point.
Pippa inhaled unsteadily. “Well, don’t just look. Lick.”
His brown eyes glittered. “Aye, princess.”
Finn curled an arm around each of her thighs, his shoulders forcing them wide apart. Then he leaned down, his breath gently ruffling the hair of her bush, teasing her yet again. But she couldn’t shove her pussy in his face, for he held her too securely.
THE BEST MARQUESS: Wickedly Wed #2 Page 14