Chapter 4 #3
“I think I am familiar with the journal you speak of,” he said.
It was beyond the pale, to be sure, not the sort of material an innocent society lady ought to be reading. The thought of her pilfering Riverdale’s collection and reading it in secret was positively thrilling. She couldn’t have been more perfect for King if she tried.
“Well, then.” Her cheeks turned pinker. “Do you?”
“Do I what, angel?” he asked, just to make her spell out her question.
“Do you touch yourself?”
He grinned. “Of course. Every morning and sometimes every night as well. Particularly over the last two months.”
Understanding dawned on her countenance. “Oh.”
She knew he spoke about her and the time that had lapsed before they were able to wed. It wasn’t a lie. He had envisioned making love to Verity a thousand different ways. But he hadn’t realized just how badly he had wanted her until now.
A slow smile crept over her lush lips. “Then will you show me what to do?”
A filthy idea occurred to him.
It was wrong. It was wicked. He most definitely shouldn’t suggest it to his lady wife, who had been a virgin until last night. But when had King ever done what was right?
“I’d like nothing better,” he told Verity. “Like this.” He took her hands in his and guided them to her breasts, showing her how to cup them in a suggestive manner. “Now push those pretty bubbies together.”
Ever a quick study, she did exactly as he suggested, taking her full breasts in her palms and pushing them high. “Like this?”
She presented such an erotic tableau that he couldn’t contain his groan, her creamy breasts overflowing her hands, her pink nipples on erotic display.
“Just like that, angel,” he managed, his cock aching, his lungs rusty. “Now move yourself over my cock.”
She positioned herself as he directed, taking his rigid cock between the soft mounds of her breasts. She was warm and smooth and so damned beautiful, working over him with more self-assurance by the moment.
Dear God.
He didn’t think he had ever seen a sight more glorious than Verity taking command over his pleasure, giving him everything he’d asked for and somehow even more. His hips moved of their own accord, chasing her every movement.
“How is this?” she asked breathlessly.
“Perfection,” he managed, feeling the tension within him heightening by the second.
He couldn’t last, and he knew it. King’s notorious control snapped, and there was nothing he could do to stave off the impending release. His orgasm was sudden and explosive, taking him by surprise. Gripping the base of his cock, he came, lashes of his seed over her breasts.
“More strawberries?”
From the other end of the massive tub they were currently sharing, her husband offered Verity a ripe red fruit.
“I don’t know if I can eat another bite,” she demurred, for he had been insistent that she break her fast.
The tub in the bathroom adjoining his bedchamber was a decadent treat.
Eating breakfast while she lounged in it, naked and sated, was nothing short of debauched.
She had never, in all her days, eaten whilst bathing.
Hadn’t even conceived such a notion. Having experienced the decadence once, however, she could easily see the merit in doing so again.
“You scarcely ate enough for a mouse,” he said with a good-natured frown.
“I ate citrus, berries, and pineapple,” she countered.
“Enough for a bird, then,” he suggested.
She couldn’t help but admire the way the water licked lovingly at his bare chest. He held a plate of fine porcelain in one hand and an elegant fork in the other, presiding over the tub like some mythical god.
After they had made love that morning, they’d napped together.
He had awakened her with slow, sweet kisses and the announcement that he’d called for a bath for them to share, along with breakfast. And when he insisted they break their fast in the tub, she hadn’t argued, amused by his antics.
“Do you always eat breakfast in the bath?” she asked, resting her arms on the cool lip of the tub as she floated in the hot, scented water.
“Not always, but it is, admittedly, a vice of mine.”
He took the piece of strawberry between his neat white teeth and chewed it thoughtfully.
Her attention settled on his sensual lips and the whiskers shadowing his jaw.
He was a true sybarite, she was fast realizing.
Not that she had any complaints in that regard.
The pleasure he bestowed upon her had left Verity reeling, and it was only their first full day as husband and wife.
“I can see why,” she murmured, trying not to devour him with her eyes too much and failing miserably. “I think if I had ever eaten in the tub, Maman would have expired from outrage if she’d found out.”
King winked. “Then it is fortunate indeed that your mother has no notion of what occurs in our household, and for more reasons than just where we take our breakfast.”
Verity laughed. The man had no shame. And she loved it.
He was unrepentantly himself, and she found him so charming she could scarcely keep from flinging herself across the tub and back into his arms. He owned all her attention at the moment.
She couldn’t seem to look away. He was deliciously seductive, his mahogany hair damp and combed away from his high forehead, his dark eyes simmering with an invitation to sin.
“What other reasons?” she asked teasingly.
He gave her a heated look. “I’m sure you can think of some, angel.”
“I do believe I could.” Verity couldn’t resist breaking the surface of the water with her toes and wiggling them at him. “Poor Maman would swoon if she knew how wicked my husband is.”
“Which is why we must never tell her.” He caught her big toe and gave it a teasing tug. “Allow her to maintain her delusion that her son-in-law is a proper gentleman and perfectly polite pillar of ducal elegance.”
“I didn’t say she thought you were proper.” Verity grinned. “Or a gentleman.”
“Ha.” He caught her ankle and pulled her toward him. “I had every intention of being on my best behavior, you know, but you bring out the beast in me. All my plans of being a gentleman died a swift death the moment I saw you waiting for me, naked in my bed.”
“I suppose that was badly done of me,” she conceded without a hint of remorse.
Whilst she had been initially uncertain of his reception to her presence in his room, he had subsequently proven to her just how pleased he’d been by her boldness.
He was so caring and considerate, her husband.
Truly, he and her brother were the best men she had ever known.
How had she managed to be so fortunate as to have them both in her life?
“I fear I shall expect similar boldness every night,” King cautioned with mock severity.
She settled atop his lap, her arms looping about his neck. “Why, Your Grace, are you suggesting that I await you in your bed each night?”
“Now that you mention it, I think I shall have to make that a requirement from this moment forward.” He kissed her swiftly, tasting of strawberry.
The water sloshed around them and nearly cascaded over the tub onto the breakfast tray he’d positioned on a table nearby.
Happiness bubbled up within her. It was as if her love was a champagne bottle and the cork had been unleashed, and now it was simply overflowing joyously, too spirited to be contained in a flute.
She felt him stirring and knew an answering longing deep within, even if she was still a bit sore.
She wanted him with an abandon that surprised her but refused to be checked.
How had she ever managed to wait two months for their engagement to end?
She could never endure such a lengthy amount of time without him again, she was sure.
When he ended the kiss, her heart was pounding and a familiar languor stole over her.
She clung to him, near enough that she could further examine the complexities hidden in his irises.
The cinnamon, gold, and bronze melded into deeper browns.
His lashes were far too long for a man, but his stern, slashing brows made up for that.
He looked serious and ducal and seductive all at once.
And he was hers.
“What are you smiling at?” he asked, his voice a deep and pleasant rumble she could happily listen to always.
Was she smiling? Belatedly, she realized that yes, indeed, she was.
“You,” she said.
“And why me?”
“Because you are my husband and I love you and you make me exceedingly happy.” It was a mouthful but true, every word.
“Do I make you happy?”
“Need you ask? I’ve just said that you do.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Very clearly, I must. I am desirous of all praise you see fit to give me. Provide a poor, humble soul with examples, if you please.”
What an interesting, complicated man he was. Verity hadn’t thought a rake of his extensive experience would be so hungry for praise.
She kissed him, then withdrew. “You married me, for one thing.”
“Hardly a chore.”
“And you showed me that what happens between husband and wife in truth is far more wondrous than anything I read in books,” she added.
“Mmm.” He lowered his face to her throat, inhaling first and then lightly nipping her as if he couldn’t get enough and simply had to take a bite. “I’m gratified to know you think so. What else?”
“You fed me breakfast.”
He nuzzled her throat. “You need your strength so I can continue showing you the joys of the marriage bed. Thoroughly and often.”
She allowed her hands to travel over his broad shoulders, over wet skin and tense, corded muscle. “Ah, so breakfast was an act of selfishness.”
“Everything about me is selfish when it comes to you, angel.” He caressed her breast beneath the water, taking her puckered nipple between thumb and forefinger and teasing it lightly. “Make no mistake about that.”