Claiming His Wife Read online

  But it wasn't enough.

  She felt like screaming in frustration as her pleasure built, but not fast enough, not high enough. The vast emptiness inside of her only seemed to grow as Alex took his time, savoring her taste. From his own moans, she could tell he was enjoying feasting between her thighs, and that aroused her even more.

  "More, more, Alex please, I need more," she begged, her insides contracting as his tongue slid around her swollen clit. If she could have lifted her hips, she would have, but with her toes barely brushing the floor there was no chance of that.

  "Tell me what you want, Gracie," he said, and then his tongue slid between her folds and inside of her, thrusting but not filling, and she moaned. "Remember what I told you in the carriage on our way here? If you want me, you're going to beg me, so that there's no mistaking what you're asking for."

  How was it possible that his arrogant words only fanned her inner flames even higher? Maybe it was the controlled passion she heard in his voice, the hungry plea that she do what he demanded and beg him. His tongue thrust inside of her again, making her body try to clench around him to draw him in further.

  "Alex, please, I need you inside me," she begged, letting her pride go, letting her walls down. Any night before this and she wouldn't have been able to, but he'd already been planting creepers along those walls, cracking them open, slowly but surely weakening them. Tonight she'd found new cause for hope, in the portrait, in the letters. In his determination to protect her, to discipline her... to keep her. Doing the same things he saw his friends doing with their wives. She wanted that. She'd always wanted that. The leap of trust wasn't that big, she told that small voice at the back of her head, she was only trusting him with her body. Not her heart, not yet... but tonight, she wanted this. Needed it even. They could come together like this. An unspoken reward for what she hadn't found in his desk, and for the unexpected surprises that she had.

  "More specific, Grace," Alex said, his tongue sliding around her clit as a finger pressed inside of her, pumping and stroking, but far too slender for her greedy passion. "Tell me to fuck you. Beg me."

  The tip of his finger rubbed over a sweet spot inside of her and every inch of her quivered with need. She was lost in a maelstrom of emotions and passion, no longer thinking, no longer caring about the bigger picture. Alex's authority, his demands, they swept through her and carried her along with them.

  "Fuck me, oh Alex please, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she chanted.

  It took Alex less than thirty seconds to undo the front of his pants and line his cock up with his wife's swollen, soaked pussy. She was practically dripping cream, and had been from the moment he'd started spanking her. The heat of her body nuzzled against the crown of his dick, her slick wetness like a kiss on the tip. Then he thrust forward and both of them cried out.

  Tight, hot... heaven. Sliding into Grace wasn't like any other woman. His emotions engulfed him for the first time in years, making him feel a sense of rightness, of completeness that had been missing from his life for so long. The silken grip of her body nearly unmanned him, and he held himself tightly against her, buried inside, fighting against the urge to empty himself immediately into her hot channel. The small muscles inside of her body massaged the length of his cock as the heat from her rosy bottom warmed his groin.

  "Please, Alex, please... more... it feels so good..."

  Those breathy, demanding words were new. A sudden flash of possessive jealousy had him wondering who had encouraged that. His own fault, he knew, for letting things go the way they had. The only positive note was that it helped him get his own impulses under control.

  Wrapping his fingers around her hips, he pulled his own back, reluctantly ceding the warmth of her cunt, before shoving back in again, deep and hard. Grace groaned and tightened. He liked this position, where she couldn't move, trapped between him and the desk, totally at his mercy. The rosy hue of her bottom as it jiggled with each thrust was just as enticing and exciting as when he had her on her back so he could watch her breasts.

  He started thrusting hard and deep, so that her pleading words were blurred into moans and whimpers, those same needy noises in her throat that he remembered. Holding her hips tightly, he slammed into her, working his cock in and out of her pussy in feverish action, fighting the urge to spill… wanting this moment to last forever.

  Grace screamed his name when she came, her body shuddering around his, her pussy clinging to his cock so tightly that he almost feared he'd hurt her as he kept moving. The sobbing note in her voice told him how intense her orgasm was. He kept riding her, reveling in the way she trembled and gasped beneath him as the waves of pleasure continued, forced out of her by his thrusting cock.

  "Too much... Alex, oh it's too much... I can't... oh please... not again... I can't..." Her broken words trailed off as she let out another gasping scream, and he realized that she was climaxing again. Even harder and more intense than before.

  He couldn't hold back any longer. Bracing himself against her, he pummeled her pussy with a series of brutal thrusts that had her writhing and screaming his name again, before he held himself tightly inside of her. He groaned as her pussy milked his cock, sucking at it with her inner muscles, as he swelled and exploded inside of her. It felt like years of pent-up desire, flowing out of him and into her body, filling her and fulfilling him at the same time.

  Feeling weak in the knees as his balls emptied, he leaned over Grace, feeling her hot bottom flush against his stomach, her smaller body limp beneath his. If it wasn't for her contented sighs, he would have worried that he'd hurt her, she was so still. Although, he could still feel her pussy occasionally spasm around his softening cock.

  Kissing the back of her shoulder and neck, a contentment that he'd never known warmed him. Even back when they'd been on their honeymoon, he hadn't felt quite like this. Although, back then, he'd known she was important to him, that he had developed some very deep feelings for her, now that he'd been apart from her for so long, he had an even deeper appreciation for what she meant to him. There would be no letting her go this time.

  "Sweetheart," he whispered, brushing back her hair to kiss her cheek.

  Her eyes were closed and she was smiling. "Mmm?"

  Not awake then. Alex sighed ruefully. He'd been hoping to talk more about why Grace had been in his study, find out what she'd been looking for - and why she'd begged him to fuck her when he'd been sure that she would keep resisting. He hadn't questioned the sudden turn around while his cock was practically bursting in his pants, now he wanted to know what had instigated it. But talking to Grace when she was like this was useless, unless she'd changed drastically in the years since their marriage, and he doubted she'd altered quite that much.

  Right now she was in a pleasure induced hazy state of satisfied exhaustion. If he got more than meaningless noises out of her, he'd be shocked.

  Making himself decent again, Alex gathered his wife tenderly up into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder. She sighed and snuggled in, making those happy little noises that he loved so well, her eyes still closed. Tomorrow he doubted she'd even remember these moments. But he would. This was how their marriage should be, always.

  Taking her to their room, he stripped her limp body naked, letting her curl up under the covers while he attended to his own bedtime needs. The only time she roused even slightly was when he used a warm, damp cloth to clear away the evidence of their activities. She curled on her side, grimacing sleepily a bit whenever her bottom touched the mattress.

  Blowing out the candles, Alex crawled in behind her, tucking her into the curve of his body and holding her possessively with his arm and leg. Tonight had been unexpected, and he didn't even try to hazard a guess what tomorrow would bring. Perhaps she would try to pull away again, perhaps she wouldn't.

  All he knew was that he would never let her go again.

  Chapter 10

  "Put me down, you... you..." Cynthia clenched her jaw against the multi
tude of insults that sprang to the front of her mind. Inwardly, she cursed that she was already changing her behavior for the bloody man who had her slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, but she knew she was in enough trouble as it was. She didn't need to add insulting him to her punishable crimes.

  The Earl utterly ignored her, and the passersby, as he strode through the streets. More than one man let out a drunken hoot and cheered him as he went past.

  "Git 'er, laddy!"

  "Tup 'er good!"

  Cynthia let out a strangled sound of outrage. "Put me down! They think I'm a trollop!"

  "Better they think you a whore than realize who you actually are," the Earl said grimly, not loosening his iron hold on her for a second. She wanted to kick him, but she was too afraid of falling. If he hadn't put her over his shoulder like some kind of demented barbarian, no one would have even noticed them going through the streets.

  Granted, there was some part of her that was excited by his high-handed ways, but she was also embarrassed. Cynthia didn't like to be embarrassed - it wasn't an emotion she was very familiar with, as she normally didn't find herself in situations out of her control. At least, not until she'd met the Earl. As a punishment, it was probably far more effective than the more physical discipline that the Earl had used on her. Well, other than the things he'd done to her bottom hole, but that was also due more to embarrassment than anything else. That area should have been sacrosanct and private.

  Hanging her head, she tried to cover her face so that at least no one would guess that the 'trollop' the Earl was with tonight was the same woman he'd be marrying on the morrow. It was one of those strange situations where, if she had plotted for this to happen, she wouldn't have been embarrassed at all. But since she hadn't, she felt humiliated by her position. Cynthia had truly meant to be to the Brooke's house and then gone before Wesley returned home.

  She didn't like to think what his presence meant for Eleanor and Irene. Although she'd learned that Irene was more adventurous than Cynthia had ever guessed, it was obvious that the redhead didn't enjoy spankings the way Cynthia did. Eleanor did, but only some of the time - and in her current condition, Cynthia doubted she'd enjoy it at all. As for Grace... well, considering the portrait that Cynthia had found tonight and the look on Grace's face as she'd read through the letters she'd found, perhaps whatever punishment Lord Brooke doled out would be worth it to her. Cynthia certainly hoped so, since she was going to be punished for it as well.

  Curiosity was certainly one of her besetting sins. She'd just had to go along on the adventure with Grace. Sneak out of the house. Search through a lord's private affairs. Normally not the kind of thing she would regret, but she was a bit worried about what the Earl might come up with as a punishment. Spankings were all well and good, whether with his hand or a belt, because even though they hurt like the devil during the process, the pleasure that followed was immense. On the other hand, the last time he'd punished her, her bottom hole had paid the price, and Cynthia had found the pleasure from that to be rather shameful. It had made her feel utterly out of control and vulnerable in a way that nothing else ever had.

  She squeaked as Wesley started up the steps to the house, bouncing her on his shoulder as he did so. Clutching at the back of his coat, her position felt extremely precarious.

  "Manfred," Wesley said, in acknowledgement as the door opened, just a tinge of gratitude coloring his voice. The older gentleman looked shocked at the sight of Cynthia upended over Wesley's shoulder, her rump high in the air, one of his arms wrapped around her knees and the other firmly gripping her thigh.

  The butler swallowed and blinked several times. "My Lord," he said finally, coming to himself and quickly closing the door behind Wesley. Obviously hoping that no one had seen.

  Personally, Wesley didn't care. Most people would probably assume what the drunken men in the street had - that the woman over his shoulder was a ladybird. Even if they recognized him, they'd think that he was celebrating his last night as a bachelor. Hardly something to be remarked upon, although it wouldn't be considered good taste to have brought the woman to his mother's house, it wasn't something anyone would mention either.

  Besides which, there was something extremely satisfying about carting his annoying baggage through the streets as her protests rained down on his ears. After all the aggravation she'd caused him this evening, it only seemed fair. When he'd first opened the letter from Manfred and realized that Cynthia had gone missing, he'd thought his heart was going to stop. His chest had ached, thinking that she'd gone back on her word and had gone out in search of another man before their wedding. It seemed like the kind of thing his overly adventurous and rebellious hoyden might do, although some part of him had held out that there must be some other explanation, because she wasn't the type to go back on a deal.

  Hearing that she'd gone off with Grace hadn't helped. Although he, personally, liked Grace quite a bit, Cynthia didn't need any encouragement from the ton's favorite scandal. He would have been less agitated if Eleanor or Irene had been with them.

  Discovering them in Alex's office, going through his things, had been a relief for Wesley. He was sure that Alex didn't feel the same way, but at the moment that wasn't his concern. His concern was ensuring that Cynthia understood this kind of behavior wasn't going to be tolerated.

  He wouldn't have her running around at night, on her own, doing who the hell knows what. If she wanted adventure, he could provide her with that. Hell, if she wanted to go snoop through somebody's things, he'd be willing to go with her. It could be fun. He'd put his foot down about his own friends of course, but still. The point was, she needed to recognize that she now had a partner in life and that he should be included in her little escapades. Wesley needed to watch over her, to know that she was safe. He needed to be there to extricate her from any situation when she got in over her head. It wasn't just possessiveness he felt - she'd rattled every protective bone in his body.

  "We're in the house, you can put me down now," she said, her voice reasonable, placating, as if she was talking to a dunce or an intelligent animal. Wesley gritted his teeth and kept walking. "My room is that way."

  He ignored her words, and her exasperated sighs, as he took her to his study. That's where everything he needed was. He'd stopped for a moment on his way out of the house, earlier, to give one of the maids orders to set up his study just the way he needed it to punish his wayward bride. It would also separate him enough from the rest of the house that their slumber wouldn't be disturbed. Especially his mother's. Doubtless, if she knew what he was up to, she wouldn't even let him discipline Cynthia.

  "Your mother didn't want you to see me tonight!" Cynthia said, as if she could sense that he was thinking about the Countess. "She said it's bad luck!"

  "Bad luck for you," he replied, letting go of her thigh and smacking her bottom over her skirts. It wouldn't hurt her with all that padding, but it was still satisfying. She squealed in outrage, not pain, making him smirk.

  He wiped the smile from his face as he set her down next to the chair. The items he'd requested from the maid were laid out on his desk, precisely as he asked. Cynthia was too busy glaring up at him, her fists propped on her hips, to even notice.

  "I can't believe you just carried me through the streets like that!"

  "I can't believe you left here and walked through the streets unaccompanied," Wesley growled back, watching her eyes go wide with defiance and guilt. "Putting yourself and Grace in danger. Not to mention, getting Irene and Eleanor into trouble as well. Don't think I can't guess whose idea this was." The guilt in her expression ratcheted up, as well as concern for her friends. Disobedient wench. The only person she should be concerned for right now was herself. "Plus, going through Alex's private room. Turn around and bend over the chair with your skirts up around your waist."

  Her pert pink lips gaped open as she stared up at him in surprise. "Don't you want to know why I did it?"

  Wesley snorted. "I
could care less, sweetheart, I just know that you did it and your arse is going to pay for it."

  "Don't speak to me like that, I'm a lady," Cynthia snapped at him, even as she turned around and started to lift her skirt. "Your mother always told your brothers not to curse in front of ladies."

  That got another snort, especially since the last part of her sentence was somewhat muffled as she bent over the chair, offering up her bottom for his inspection in a completely unladylike manner. He didn't apologize, but he didn't counter her argument either. If his mother ever did overhear the language he used in Cynthia's presence, she'd probably wallop him herself.

  "Ladies don't go wandering off in the night without an escort," he said sharply, his hand coming down hard on her backside. Tonight he wasn't going to bother giving her a warm-up to the spanking. This spanking was going to be a warm-up to the birching she'd be getting. The muffled cry that greeted the blow indicated his force had been unexpected. Good, he hoped this got her attention.

  Cynthia shrieked again as his hand came crashing down. She hadn't realized how much she relied on having her bottom sufficiently warmed up before he really started swinging his hand. Normally her buttocks were already bright pink by the time he used this much force, receiving it cold was a shock to her system that was both painful and arousing. Already she could feel her hard nipples rubbing against the chair's cushion through the fabric of her dress, and her pussy beginning to tighten and cream as his hand came down again and again.

  Just being in this position was exciting for her, because she knew what was coming. Even if right now it did hurt like the dickens.

  "Ow, ow, ow, ow," she chanted into the seat of the chair, her feet beginning to move and dance. Almost immediately the spanking stopped.

  "Hold still, Cynthia, and keep your legs well spread or I'll tie them apart."

  The very idea made her shudder as a gush of wetness leaked from her pussy. She'd been quite excited when he'd tied her hands to his bed the night she'd tried to sneak into it, the idea of having her legs tied apart so that all of her privates would be vulnerable and on display... she wouldn't be able to keep him from touching her anywhere.