“Good morning, my lord. Ma’am. Are you here to visit Miss Abby?”
Unaccountably, Finn tensed. “Is she here? I thought Abby usually went visiting at this time.”
The maid shook her head. “She is next door, visiting Miss Bridget. They often take tea together. Would you like me to go and fetch her?”
“No! Ah…no, thank you. I shall see her next time. My wife and I are going to the inventing room and are not to be disturbed.”
“Yes, my lord.”
As they carried on down the narrow hallway, Pippa sent Finn a curious glance. “Who is Abby?”
“An employee here,” he replied. “The one I told you about, with the little girl. I’m overprotective of her privacy; in the past she has been treated so badly by those around her. But don’t think about her, think about my inventing room. Are you ready to see it?”
“I have been ready to see it for some time,” Pippa replied archly as they walked down the wooden stairs to the cellar.
She’d expected the space to be rather dark and confined, but it was surprisingly spacious with four large rectangular windows near the ceiling that looked out into Golden Square, and plenty of candlesticks to be lit. As soon as she entered the inventing room, the chaotic layout and eclectic collection of furniture, plus piles of boxes, documents, and random items, positively bellowed that the space belonged to Finn. Yet knowing that it was exclusively his made what she was about to try even easier. No one would disturb them down here. She could be as wicked as she wished.
One velvet tray caught her eye, and she wandered over to peruse five rows of different-sized nipple clamps. Some were studded with pearls, others with paste gems, but Pippa particularly approved of the clamps set with diamonds. If you were going to clamp, clamp in style. Although in saying that, the creamy pearl studded ones had a certain air of innocence that seemed appropriate for a beginner. And they looked the right size.
“Those ones,” said Pippa. “Pearls, if you please.”
“Good choice. Now, let’s get you out of this hideous mourning gown,” said Finn. “If you stay under the windows, no one can see anything from the street. I mean, they’d have to stoop anyway. And peer through the iron banister. So, no danger of being observed.”
When she was ready, Finn cupped her breasts, rubbing his thumbs across her nipples then pinching them in preparation. Pure excitement coiled in her stomach, and she arched her back, wanting to feel the accessory that she’d only ever read about.
“Do it,” Pippa whispered.
Slowly, carefully, Finn affixed the first clamp to her left nipple. The bite of pain took her breath away and she silently debated ripping it off. But eventually it settled to a dull, throbbing ache, a sensation nearly mirrored between her legs, and she moaned.
“You like that? Not too much?”
“Do the other one.”
For some unknown reason the second clamp hurt more than the first, forcing her to breathe deeply while she waited for it to ease. All the while her clitoris pulsed unmercifully, and she clasped her hands together lest she ruin the game and touch herself.
“How is that, Pippet?” asked Finn, watching her intently. In truth, knowing he cared so much about her comfort and pleasure only made her need grow hotter and brighter.
“G-good,” she managed. “May I have the other toy now?”
“I need to prepare you with some oil first. Go and kneel on the edge of my chair and hold onto the back for support.”
Wickedness. Pure wickedness.
Here she was, a fledgling marchioness kneeling naked on a padded armchair in a cellar, with pearl-studded clamps pinching her nipples and her husband gently, so, so gently, pushing one oil-slick finger into her back entrance.
Making her tremble. Making her burn.
And she loved it.
“Deeper, Finn,” she said throatily. “I want more.”
A growl rumbled in his chest. “I’ll give you what you need.”
Pippa uttered a soft cry when he added a second finger to her tight hole, the stretch and thrust dancing on that heady line between pleasure and pain. But when his other hand slid over her hip to cup her mound, she began to pant, her hips circling in a desperate effort to get direct pressure on her clitoris. One touch. Just one, and she would explode in a violent starburst of an orgasm. “Please,” she begged. “Please let me come.”
Finn took his hands away and she nearly wept at the loss. However, he then walked over to a bench, picked up a hand-sized object, then returned to show her. “I think you’re ready for the toy. Here is my latest pride and joy.”
Her jaw dropped. Two leather dildos, one about five inches long and the width of three fingers, the other about half the size, were each attached to a slender rectangle of polished wood by a metal ring. A long satin ribbon dangled from underneath the contraption, ready to tie around her waist. “Good lord.”
“I’m going to put them inside you now, then I’ll help you stand. Come as many times as you like. No one can hear you down here.”
“Hurry. Please hurry.”
At the strange yet sinfully delicious feel of cool, firm leather probing her wet pussy, Pippa sucked in a harsh breath. But Finn was relentless in his advance and her greedy channel sucked the first dildo inside. Then the second one penetrated her back entrance, and when she jerked and writhed, unable to decide whether to welcome the invader or reject it, the metal rings tinkled merrily. Last of all, Finn grasped the ribbon and tied it tightly, the action pushing both dildos even deeper.
She cried out. So close…
“Stand up, my lady.”
Quivering, gripping Finn’s hand for support, Pippa obeyed. But as soon as she straightened, the unyielding dildos moved and rubbed together inside her, and she screamed in wild abandon as release hit with the force of a spring tide.
Oh God.
Romance novels had officially moved to second on her list of the greatest inventions in history. Nothing could possibly compare to this toy.
It was, quite simply, pleasure perfection.
Two things were equally true: making his wife come so hard she saw stars was his favorite pastime; and giving up Bliss to concentrate solely on his title responsibilities was an unacceptable future path. Allowing his creativity free rein in such a unique and interesting arena was too enjoyable. Too necessary.
Sternly ignoring his aching cock, Finn curved a supporting arm around Pippa’s waist, before carefully removing the nipple clamps. She jerked, then whimpered as he gently rubbed the swollen, wine-colored peaks.
“So, lady wife,” he said curiously. “Any comments on the clamps? Feel free to be blunt; your honest opinion is important to me.”
Pippa peered up at him with dazed eyes, her spectacles askew, so he adjusted them then tucked a stray tendril of blond hair behind her ear.
“I love them,” she said, a smile lighting up her face. “That flash of pain at the start is a shock to the senses, but the ache afterward is delicious. I also love that you decorate them in different ways. Diamonds for the discerning. Pearls for an air of innocence. Paste gems for fun. Different sized clamps are a good idea but you also need different strengths, ones that offer the full experience from a light kiss to a harsh bite. I also wonder if there might be customers who will wear them under clothing. If so, we’ll need some plain gold or silver so they don’t show.”
Finn nodded thoughtfully. “All excellent points. And the double dildo? How did you find that?”
“If it could kiss and cuddle and bring me cakes, I would probably marry it.”
Laughter rumbled in his chest as he unfastened the ribbon around her waist and carefully tugged the dildos from her pussy and arse, before setting it aside to be washed. “Adequate then?”
Pippa made a sound of pure contentment. “Quite satisfactory. I think I can still feel a pulsing. That leather is lovely; firm and cool but still vaguely realistic. And the way the two dildos rubbed together inside me…good lord. That was splendid. Those go
ld rings allow just enough movement to get comfortable, which will be helpful with different body shapes and sizes.”
“Right. Any improvements needed?”
Her fingers tangled in his cravat. “The only thing that concerns me is the ribbon. I don’t think it will be sturdy enough for regular and enthusiastic use. Have you thought about a cord? Perhaps a thin leather strap that fastens as a belt?”
I love you.
Finn took a deep breath, actually biting his lip so he didn’t blurt the words. Instead, he moved over to the chair that she had knelt on and sat on it, then pulled her into his lap. She burrowed against him, her face in the curve where his shoulder met his neck, and yet again he marveled at the goddess who was his wife. That Pippa tolerated him having a pleasure toy business was momentous enough, but that she was interested in it, that she’d eagerly agreed to try out items and then offer practical, helpful suggestions was more than he could have dreamed of. She was in all ways, perfection.
“Whatever would I do without you, Pippet?” Finn said, kissing her forehead before stroking her hair until she practically purred.
“I’d say you’d have a lot more customers demanding their money back for frayed ribbons,” she replied, wriggling a little.
“Not comfortable?”
Pippa slid one arm around his neck and leaned back. “I’m being distracted by a rogue iron bar.”
“Just ignore it. I know you must be sore.”
“Not too sore for some gentle play. However, before we proceed, I must lodge a complaint about our wedding night. It has been nagging at me.”
Finn hesitated, for she looked so serious. “Tell me.”
“I was going to say something the following day when we had breakfast, but then, well, you know. In bed…while it was wonderful, you did something that I did not like. No, that’s not quite right. An act I did not understand. You spilled on my belly. I thought…I thought you would want an heir? I mean, I’m aware that I am no Lilian in the realm of maternal feeling, but still…”
As her voice trailed off, Finn blinked in surprise. Stoic, no-nonsense Pippa had been hurt by that. But as she’d expressed no pressing desire to become pregnant, especially after witnessing a birth firsthand with her sister, he’d thought to spare her something she wasn’t ready for.
That’s the problem, twit. Any romance novel will tell you nothing good comes from people just up and making assumptions about their lover. That is how Great Misunderstandings occur.
“I think you will be a superb mother,” he said, holding her tighter. “Fierce as a lioness. Children will feel so safe with you. So cared for. That they could whisper any secret in your ear and know it will be kept.”
Pippa’s cheeks went pink. “Well, yes. I sense a but in there, though.”
“There is plenty of time. You are only twenty. I’m twenty-four. Hand on heart, Pippet, the problem is me. I’m not sure I’m ready to be a father. I have…I don’t know, much to muddle though in my head. To discard the poison from my father first. And I have so much to learn in being a marquess and a husband. Plus, there is Bliss. I’m still not sure how I’m going to balance what I love with what I must do. Gah. Does any of that make sense, or do I just sound as foolish as a young buck complimenting a tree trunk on its fine ankles after ten bottles of brandy?”
“All of that is quite logical,” she said firmly. “And I don’t feel the need to hurry into a birthing chamber yet. It will take a while for the memory of Lilian’s travails to fade…between the blood and the sounds that I heard. But I find…I do not like decisions being made on my behalf.”
“Guilty, your honor. Allow me to humbly beg forgiveness and atone.”
“There is something else,” she said, glancing away from him. “I’ve always felt fairly strongly about this, purely in general terms. But now that we are wed, it has become something that is ironclad and cast in stone. Especially after seeing you with all those visitors in the drawing room. I know it is unfashionable and that you are exceedingly popular…but, ah…I would not be good at sharing. In fact, I believe I would be a tremendous failure and turn into an unhinged shrew.”
A tempest of elation and caution swirled together inside him. His wife didn’t want him to have a mistress? Was that just a matter of personal pride, or her way of expressing deeper feelings for him? He well knew the journey to Pippa’s heart would involve several impossible quests, a maze, probably a minotaur, and carving through hewn rock with a wooden spoon. But if she ever loved him back, it would all be worth it.
“You don’t have to share,” said Finn, lifting her chin for a kiss. “As it happens, I have a particular preference for spectacle-wearing Pippets.”
“Good,” she replied, her gaze warm as her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his trouser flap then freed his cock.
Soon they were both moaning as she braced her feet on the floor and lowered herself onto his thick length. While the slick, hot welcome of her pussy felt indescribable, there was no haste. No desperate, greedy desire for release as soon as possible. This was different. Tender. Two people with their arms wrapped around each other, rocking and circling as though they had all the time in the world.
And they did.
Bending his head, Finn licked her nipple, pausing when she cried out. “Too sensitive?”
“No,” she breathed, cupping her small breast and offering it to him. “Do that again.”
Finn couldn’t help a rougher thrust as he repeatedly lashed her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Yet Pippa didn’t flinch, instead her inner walls fluttered around his cock and she started grinding herself against him, angling her hips so her clitoris rubbed directly against his groin. He loved how unashamed she was in her need for pleasure.
But now he could feel that restlessness growing, that building storm before the explosion of release. Finn thrust his cock deep into Pippa’s soaked pussy, and the scent of her, the heat, the sounds of her gasps and whimpers was a trident of pleasure that could no longer be denied. He gripped her hips, fucking her harder, and soon Pippa’s head fell back, her fingernails clawing the fabric of his jacket as she came with a loud scream.
Her orgasm hurled him over the edge, and as he withdrew then mindlessly spurted his release across her lower belly, three hoarse words tore from his throat. “I love you.”
Shit. Shit!
Finn struggled for breath, waiting for Pippa to jerk away or go rigid in his arms. But she didn’t, only rested her forehead on his shoulder as her own ragged breathing gradually eased.
She hadn’t heard him. Thank God.
The last thing he wanted to do was ruin what they were building together. He just had to control himself, to not submerge his wife in emotional declarations that she would only retreat from. Pippa cared for him. He knew that. That she might never surrender her fully-armored heart and declare love in return was the risk he’d taken.
Only time would reveal if the gamble of his life would pay off.
Chapter 13
Life as a marchioness was turning out to be…unexpectedly lovely?
Pippa hummed to herself as she strolled into the Exton’s tranquil blue parlor. Today she couldn’t wait to spend time with Lilian, and also Georgiana, who had agreed to meet them here as well. Just three sisters speaking freely and drinking tea as they shared all the happenings in their life.
Like, for example, how wonderful the past week had been at Pinehurst House. Both the chef and housekeeper had welcomed her detailed list of preferences. She and Finn had also redecorated the library; removing the awful paintings and stag heads, repainting the crimson trim a rich cream color, and replacing the dark, uncomfortable wooden furniture with an overstuffed chaise and leather armchairs. Already it looked a far more warm and welcoming space.
However, none of this compared to the nightly delights in Finn’s bedchamber. She had grown addicted to his touch and once was never enough, especially as he’d fetched home some other Bliss toys and accessories to try. One night they’d even
donned masks and pretended to be strangers at a naughty house party, and the subsequent swoon-inducing orgasms she’d had as he bent her over the desk and took her roughly, were almost indescribable.
There was only one grain of sand in her shoe: at Golden Square, she could have sworn Finn said he loved her. But he’d not said it again, nor made any reference to saying it, so she was obviously mistaken. Something entirely plausible; her mind had been scrambled by the magnificent double dildo.
But she was eager to hear about life for Lilian as a new mother, and if Georgiana had finally seen sense and shoved that gentleman off London Bridge.
“Good morning!” she said cheerfully to Lilian as she entered the parlor and collapsed onto a chaise with a rustle of black skirts. “No Gigi?”
“Not yet,” said her older sister, dressed in a loose cream-colored morning gown without stays, and grinning as she rocked Amanda’s tiny wooden cradle. “Therefore, we can gossip like a pair of old hens.”
“Excellent. How are you? How is that sweet baby?”
“I’m feeling better each day. That first week, I didn’t know which way was up. As for Amanda, she is a sweet baby approximately thirty percent of the time. The rest, a holy terror who knows she has her mama and papa wrapped around her little finger. It is just as well she’s adorable, for she demands to be fed every three hours and forty minutes like some sort of tyrannical baby clock, vomits on my dressing gown with great precision, and wets her small cloths like a stream overflowing its banks.”
Pippa peered into the cradle. Amanda cooed and waved her tiny fists. “Lies. Damned scurrilous lies, slandering my angelic niece.”
“Oh, so you and Finlay will provide her with a cousin soon?” asked Lilian, her voice rich with amusement.
“Good God no. Errrrr I mean, alas, no cousins just yet. Marriage is surprisingly wonderful, but we’ve had enough excitement in our lives lately. I just want some nice peace and quiet,” she finished, glancing back at Lilian.
THE BEST MARQUESS: Wickedly Wed #2 Page 19