Chapter 39
Charles
I watch Cynthia as she walks arm in arm with her father.
Though he promised to behave, I still study him, ensuring he says nothing untoward that can spoil this day for her.
Though my brother and I are still at odds, he stands beside me, just as poised, just as ready to do what needs to be done if it comes to it.
For that, I can forgive him at least a little.
Zounds, but she’s a vision as she walks to me, soft green hugging her curves and showing off the pale expanse of her neck. Soon, it will bear my mark for all to see. My wife in every single way.
She stands in front of me, tears in her eyes.
They’re not of sorrow. That, I can tell.
She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her. In that moment, I vow to make up for all the time I’ve left her waiting, all the heartache I’ve put her through in the name of duty and honor.
Never more will she ever have to doubt the enormity of my feelings.
I gather her hands in mine as her father slips away. The vows tumble from my lips in rote recitation as I stare at the wonder in front of me. Her lips tremble as she repeats them. Her eyes darken just a bit as she shifts.
Her heat is indeed imminent. Though not strong, I smell her arousal as it drips off of her. As much as I wish to give her everything her heart desires, I cannot take a chance of her going into heat at a wedding breakfast. We will, of course, have a far more intimate affair after it is concluded.
My eyes never leave hers as we both vow to honor and cherish each other in front of most of the Ton. Henhaven is not in attendance, but then, I didn’t expect him to be.
Despite my brother’s fears, there is no outcry of scandal, no dark pall settling over this day. It’s in thanks to the Queen that today is as joyous as it is.
Whether Lewis used his connections or the queen put two and two together, I’ll never know, and I’ll never ask. In the eyes of the Ton, she announced our wedding, waxing poetic of the joys of love and how matches are made when we least expect it.
Henhaven is free and clear of any scandal, as are my sisters. No doubt this only fuels the fire for those already standing in line to make their pitch next year. Somehow, some way, we’ve all come out of this unscathed.
I cannot explain it. I cannot put words to it. For once in our lives, everything goes just as planned. Even the clouds refuse to appear in the sky so that my bride can shine her brightest for all to see.
Taking her hand in mine, I turn to the crowd and hold it aloft, bringing shouts of joy and well wishes as we walk down the aisle as husband and wife.
Cynthia’s face takes on the most adorable blush as we hurry past the well-wishers and onto the street where they toss rose petals and wheat our way, spurring us on as we head to my town house.
Our closest friends follow, pausing in the foyer as Cynthia catches her breath.
Keeping a hold of her, I look out among all the smiling faces and beam back.
My jaw aches with how much I’ve smiled today and find that I quite detest how unused the muscles are to such action. One more vow to add to the lot.
“Thank you, friends. For protection of my new wife, we will conduct our wedding breakfast once she is able to attend. Please, head back to your homes and celebrate as I make her my duchess in deed.”
Her blush only becomes far deeper as the whoops and shouts accompany us up the stairs. No use her playing coy now. She will soon enter the world as one of the married, a woman who is allowed to know about the things we’ve done in secret.
As I drag her into my bedchamber and lock the door, I slide my hands across her face and pull her in for a kiss.
My lips slide across hers as hunger eats at me, pulling at me to strip her here and now.
She winds her hands up my neck and into my hair, deepening the kiss, her desperation for me just as palpable.
“Tell me, wife. Did you do as your husband commanded?”
Cynthia looks up at me, the adorable embarrassment etched on her face.
She doesn’t even have to say the words. Her expression says it all.
Growling with pleasure, I lead her over to the bed and coax her hands to rest upon the mattress as I plant fevered kisses down the exposed part of the back of her neck.
“I suppose I shall see for myself. Spread your legs for me, wife. Let me see just how dutiful and obedient you are.”
As I lift the back of her dress, the scent of her arousal surrounds me. It calls to me and demands I tear the fabric so that I may devour her. Soon. So achingly soon.
I skim my hands up the back of her legs, pausing to knead the muscles of her arse. Every inch of her is perfection. Reaching between her splayed thighs, I toy with her clit, drawing out the most beautiful moan from her lips.
“That’s it, my love. You’re mine now. No one can decry what we do. I will never stifle you again. Let all of London hear how well I can pleasure my wife. Make them weep with envy as you come so prettily for me.”
My filthy words have their intended effect. Even more slick coats my fingers as I bring them up to lap at them. Zounds, but she tastes even better than before. It must be her heat. That or because I no longer have to hold back.
Growling, I reach around and fiddle with the ties on her corset. Too long. Everything is taking far too long. I turn her around and push her back onto the bed and tear at her clothes. My breaths come in ragged grunts as I see the blackness in her eyes.
Her lips part as she pants as well, moving with me, her hips undulating back and forth. This isn’t how I wanted it. This isn’t how our first time was supposed to be. I wanted to be gentle, tender, a damned gentleman for once. All those thoughts leave with one whispered word.
“Please.”
I can barely hear it, but my soul understands. With a wrench of my fingers, I tear through the flimsy fabrics, ripping them from her body. The need to see her naked slithers through my brain and takes hold until I’m like a man possessed.
If she mourns the state of her dress, she doesn’t show it. Cynthia tugs at mine as well, her fingers desperate yet feeble. I pull away from her, smiling at the heartfelt whimper.
With a slow precision, I take off my coat and toss it to the floor. One by one, I remove every barrier between us, until I’m as naked as the day I was born. She looks me up and down as she runs her tongue over her bottom lip.
“Mine,” I snarl as I remove the rest of her clothes, leaving her in just the stockings, jewels, and plug I know for sure is nestled between her ample cheeks.
Turning her over, I spread her apart as she wails in protest. With a wolfish grin, I grip one cheek as I smack the other. “Oh no, my little deviant. Now is not the time to protest. You knew this about me. You knew this was coming.”
I grip the plug and slowly pull it out, groaning as slick drips from her pussy to stain the sheets.
God in Heaven, but I won’t be able to last long with her like this.
My cock bobs in agreement as precum pearls at the tip for a moment before it slides down the underside where it coats my balls.
So much cum, but not any inside her yet.
“Are you ready for me, my love? Are you ready for me to make amends with how I treated you so shamelessly the other night?”
“Please,” she pleads as her fingers scrabble over the sheets.
I tease her some more as I push it back in and pull it out again, mimicking the act I long to do. But she’s not ready yet. This plug is so much smaller than me. When I fully take it out and set it to the side, I go over to my desk and pull out the next size up.
Cynthia’s eyes grow wide as she looks at it. “You mean to put all that in there?”
With a laugh, I grip the base of my cock and stroke it for a moment. “I put all this in there. Trust me. It will fit.”
I go back around and spread her wide. Her pussy is puffy and swollen as I drag the cold metal across the slick flesh, pausing every now and then to tease her clit with the tip. Her moans surround my ears as my room fills with the scent of honey and peony. My own flower in bloom.
The tip notches easily in her back entrance, and she arches into it. “That’s it, my good little wife. Fuck your arse with my dilator. Show me how well you can take this girth. Soon, it will be me in there, filling you up, sliding in and out. But first, you must take this one without discomfort.”
Her nails dig into the covers as she arches her hips, moving them back as she takes the dilator into her body.
I stroke myself as I watch her, mesmerized by the sight of cold, hard metal slipping into warm, delicate skin.
She whimpers and moans as she moves, desperation guiding the rhythm of her hips.
“That’s it, love,” I murmur as I lean down to kiss down her spine. “Just relax for me. Open up. Let me defile you.”
Her moans spur me on as I push the bulbous bit of metal into her backside. She arches like a cat in heat, nearly purring as I stretch her out. The first hump disappears inside her.
“You’re taking it so well,” I hum. “First one in.”
The second stretches her out even wider. My wife doesn’t even flinch. Her body opens up for it, greeting it like a friend. “Second one in. Can you take the third?”
She can, and she does. The moment I press the largest part of the dilator against her delicate back hole, she groans and pushes back, begging with her hips to have it seated deep inside her.
Once it’s all the way in, I turn her over and stare down into her eyes, those beautiful green eyes that are now just a small ring around a sea of black.
“Shall I make you my wife in deed as well as in name?”
“Yes, Charles,” she cries out. “Please. I can’t stand it anymore.”
“As my duchess commands.”