Chapter Thirty-Three
Wylder
Wyldewood Lodge had undergone extensive renovations in the last year, and Wylder was now glad he’d sunk the funds into it. It was an amazing sense of fulfillment to bring his new bride to his home, knowing that it was a space to be proud of.
Emily slept for most of the journey while Wylder occasionally dozed as the coach bumped along the uneven country roads.
When they finally arrived late the next afternoon, she drowsily stood beside him as he introduced her to the staff and his housekeeper, Miss Dawson.
After arranging to have a light meal prepared as well as a bath for two, Wylder guided Emily up the curved staircase.
“Your home is so beautiful,” Emily said, her fingers trailing along the polished mahogany banister.
Plaster walls painted in a soft, sky-blue shade were enhanced by several works of art set in gilded frames.
Above the large, airy foyer, an enormous gilt and crystal chandelier hung from an ornately carved medallion of carved acanthus leaves set high in the soaring ceiling.
Highly polished wood floors gleamed, the aroma of wax mingling with the scent of fresh flowers arranged in a vase on a rosewood circular table set in the middle of the gently curved room.
“Our home,” Wylder corrected her, his arm slipping around her waist as they continued ascending the stairs. “Everything I have is now yours, Emily.”
“I only care that I have possession of your heart,” she replied with a smile.
“That is the one thing of mine that has been yours from the moment I laid eyes on you, although I was far too immature and selfish to understand it.” Wylder led the way down a long corridor, watching as Emily took in the quiet grandeur of Wyldewood Lodge.
Turning down a secondary hallway, they finally came to a stop before the doors to his suite of rooms. He swung the heavy oak panels open.
Allowing her to enter ahead of him, Wylder heard her soft intake of breath and curiosity.
“How masculine it is,” she murmured, pulling away from him to step farther into the space.
Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the heavy, dark wood of the furniture and the massive four-poster bed that occupied one wall.
The bed was truly a piece of artwork, the post heavily carved with trailing vines and leaves.
Tiny foxes peeked out amongst the carvings, and a tester canopy of dark hunter green brocade topped the bed as if it were icing on a cake.
“Am I to sleep here? With you?” Emily asked quietly, her gaze returning to Wylder’s. Her blue eyes glowed as she waited for his answer, and Wylder felt his body clench with sudden, overwhelming possessiveness.
“You shall sleep nowhere else,” he declared, stalking toward her.
Taking her hands, he stripped off her gloves and tossed them aside.
For a moment, he admired the diamond ring sparkling on her finger before wrapping his arms around her tiny waist. Bending his head, he brushed his mouth over hers, delighting in her contented sigh.
“I am glad to hear it. I know it is fashionable for the lady of the house to have her own set of rooms, but I do not want to be away from your side, Wylder,” Emily said, melting in his embrace.
“Nor shall you be if I can help it.”
A knock on the door interrupted what he might have done then, and Wylder reluctantly stepped back as a chattering parade of excited servants began carrying in covered trays of food and a decanter of wine.
Everything was quickly set up on a small table flanked by two carved chairs of matching rosewood in the alcove of a set of floor-to-ceiling windows.
In another section of the large room, an enormous brass tub sat behind a paneled screen of the same hunter green brocade as the bed’s canopy.
Four footmen carried in steaming pails of water, dumping them into the tub as a maid efficiently stacked towels and soaps on a stool beside the tub under Miss Dawson’s watchful eye.
Emily watched quietly as all this was done, but Wylder noticed how she twisted the ring she wore in a subconsciously nervous gesture.
Once they were alone, he took her in his arms again.
How slowly must he move when it came to making love to her for the first time?
He prayed his patience would hold out… that he would not frighten her with the burning force of his desire.
“That bath looks heavenly. I am torn between it and satisfying my hunger.” Emily met his gaze, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint.
“We should enjoy the bath first while the water is hot. We can eat afterward,” Wylder breathed, his thumbs moving upward until they rest just beneath the undercurve of her breasts. His body hardened to a painful degree as his hands framed those luscious swells.
“But my hunger is for you, my lord.” The corners of Emily’s pouty lips curved upward when Wylder sucked in a deep breath.
“Dammit, Emily. You cannot say such things and not expect me to tear every stitch of your clothing away from your body. I’m barely holding onto my restraint as it is.”
Emily did not look away, her blue eyes growing heated as she licked her upper lip and her hands came up to grip the lapels of his suit coat.
“But I do not wish for your restraint. I prefer you to be as wild with longing as I am.” Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him, her mouth growing more bold as the seconds passed.
“Help me remove my gown, husband,” she whispered. “And remove your clothing as well.”
“With the greatest of pleasure, wife,” Wylder muttered.
When they were both finally divested of their clothing, Wylder helped Emily into the tub, then followed behind her.
Their legs tangled together as they sat facing one another, the steam of the water rising between them in little tendrils.
Emily’s breasts bobbed in the water, full and creamy pink from the heat.
She was as beautiful as a water nymph and just as tempting.
With a shy smile, she reached for one of the sponges and lathered it up with one of the bars of soap. Then, as if she’d done so a thousand times before, she leaned forward and began washing Wylder’s chest, her fingers following the path of suds and rivulets.
Wylder choked back a groan when Emily’s fingernails raked over his nipples.
Her expression was intent as she explored, satisfying her curiosity and becoming bolder as her hands dipped beneath the water.
He held his breath as she encircled his shaft with one hand.
She dropped the sponge but did not bother to retrieve it as her full attention centered on Wylder.
“You are so hard, Wylder. So strong and beautiful.” Emily’s voice was full of wonderment, her teeth catching her bottom lip in awe as she caressed the muscled planes of his chest. The ridges of his abdomen. The aching stiffness of his cock.
“Fuck, Emily.” The words came out in a grunt, full of need and lust. “Let us be done with this so I can take you to bed. I need to be inside you more than I need air to breathe.”
“Is it not possible to do such things here?” she asked innocently, the hand wrapped about his cock slowly working his flesh as she stared up at him.
“You are driving me mad, brat.” His hips involuntarily bucked toward her, his cock swelling within the small circle of her hand. Emily’s smile was one of satisfaction, and she leaned forward to kiss him, her lips teasing his.
“It’s only fair that you suffer, too. I’ve waited so very long to become your wife in every sense of the word, Wylder. I ache for you. I want you. I love you. Will you show me everything that you desire? Will you teach me to please you?”
In response, Wylder suddenly lifted her so that her curved bottom rested on the top of his thighs, her warm, wet cunny achingly close to his erection.
His body strained toward hers, throbbing to be embedded within her.
He stopped just short of surging into her, however, worried that he might hurt her if he took her like this for her first time.
Now that her breasts were even with his mouth, he lazily kissed the glistening globes.
“Place your arms around my neck, Emily,” he instructed in a husky voice.
When she obeyed, he sucked one of her pink nipples into his mouth with a low growl. “Good girl.”
The praise wrung a whimper from her throat, and Wylder’s free hand slid up to her throat.
Wrapping his fingers around the slim column, he forced her head to tilt back.
When she shifted against him, seeking the friction of his body, he tightened his grip.
“Be still, else I fuck you right here in this tub, Emily.” He tongued the erect bud of her nipple, then moved onto the other, sucking and licking as her moans grew more desperate.
When her hips rocked against his, the soft curls of her pussy brushing against his cock, he nearly combusted with lust.
Water sloshed over the sides of the tub, puddling on the polished wood floor. Wylder’s teeth nipped Emily in warning, catching the tip of her breast and worrying the sensitive flesh. “Is this what you want, little minx? For your husband to take your virginity like this?”
“Yes,” she breathed helplessly, her chin still pointed upward by the force of his hand around her throat. “P-please, Wylder. Please… take me now. Here. Like this. I’m begging you.”
The untamed side of Wylder thrilled to her impassioned plea but still, he hesitated. “It will hurt you more than is necessary, minx.”
“It hurts now…” she said in a breathy complaint. “It hurts that you are not inside me, making me your own. If I have any say in my own deflowering, then this is how I choose it to happen. Later, you may punish me for my impertinence, my lord.”