Claiming His Wife Read online

  She glanced over at her fiancé, who already knew everyone and didn't seem to be held to the same strictures. No, he was able to speak with his friends, visit the refreshments table, and even dance if he wanted. Although if he did dance with one more flirtatious beauty, fresh from London, Cynthia was not going to be responsible for her actions. After all his threats about her talking to other men, she would have thought he'd be more circumspect with his own attentions.

  Granted, his friends were also dancing with women other than their wives, but Eleanor and Irene were also on the dance floor, and the moment the music ended Edwin and Hugh were back at their sides, reclaiming their women. Only Grace wasn't dancing, and that was because Alex was looming over her and glaring at any man who dared come within two feet of her. Going by the increasingly irate expression on Grace's face, only the fact that they were in public was keeping her from exploding.

  Really, she should just accept one of Lord Brooke's many invitations to dance. It was obvious that he wasn't going to let his wife dance with another man until she danced with him first. Cynthia had even seen the scowling lord shake his head at Hugh when he'd begun to approach.

  If only she could do the same with her own fiancé.

  Cynthia scowled at him across the room, where he was talking with some blonde beauty that was practically clinging to his - oh... that was Eleanor on his arm. Well, that was alright. But still. Shouldn't the Earl have asked his fiancé to dance at least once? Perhaps he was too scared to approach the gaggle of women around his mother, but that didn't mean that Cynthia should have to pay the price for his cowardice.

  "Excuse me, my lady," she murmured to the Countess, "I must visit the retiring room."

  "Of course, my dear, hurry back," the Countess said, smiling benignly. She was fully decked out in all her best clothing, a glittering array of gold and ruby red, guaranteed to attract attention. Obviously, she was in alt over finally having her eldest son about to be married. Bemused, Cynthia hurried away, sliding between the ladies and nodding inanely as she passed.

  In her own dress of dark rose pink, edged with cream, Cynthia knew that she looked quite attractive tonight. The color matched her nipples perfectly, which made her feel wonderfully naughty, even though no one else was aware of it. Well, the Earl might be, but he certainly wouldn't say anything even if he realized.

  As she made her way across the room, the frustrating man materialized at her elbow.

  "Where do you think you're going?"

  Cynthia scowled up at him, not at all intimidated by his low, threatening voice. "Anywhere but back there," she said, jerking her head back towards where his mother was standing holding court. The Earl's lips twitched as he almost smiled. Ha. She knew he had a sense of humor in there, even if he did tend to present his stuffiest side to her.

  Well, stuffy when he wasn't baring her backside, turning it bright red and then putting his... well. Now her own cheeks were starting to match her dress as she looked up at him. It wasn't like her to be easily embarrassed, but she couldn't think about him doing that without blushing.

  "You, of all people, shouldn't be left unchaperoned for even a minute," he said, taking her hand and putting it on his arm. Since Cynthia didn't actually need to use the retiring room, she didn't protest.

  "Then you can chaperone me," she said, smiling up at him with such saccharine sweetness that she knew he'd be suspicious. She'd noticed that he was always the most wary of her when she was behaving correctly. It set him on edge. "After all, you seem unable to go more than a minute without a female on your arm, it might as well be me."

  The Earl's eyebrows raised and a little gleam entered his eyes. He really was devastatingly attractive. "Jealous?"

  "Hardly," she said, airily, blatantly lying through her teeth. It had surprised her, actually, how possessive she felt of him. The good news was, she knew that he was just as bad and she intended to use that. "There are quite a few gentlemen who would be eager to make up for your neglecting me."

  They changed direction with a suddenness that almost made her stumble, but the Earl caught her with his arm around her waist, his grip tight, as he maneuvered them towards to the doors to the outside. Silent, imposing, and completely in control, he ushered her out into the night. The darkness was broken up by the lights throughout the gardens, a few shadowy figures moving in the distance along the less well-lit pathways. Couples, who were searching out intimacy.

  Leading her onto one of those darker pathways, Wesley was filled with satisfaction that he no longer had to worry about her reputation. Betrothed couples were always given a certain amount of leeway, and with the wedding day looming so close, they'd be given even more. No one would look askance, as long as he married the chit, and Wesley had no intention of changing his mind about that.

  Wesley knew that once they were married, the rakes would be hovering... waiting. His soon-to-be wife was exactly the kind of treat they'd like to indulge in, with her sensuous curves and eager passion; if he ever made the mistake of letting her become a bored matron, they would pounce. However, Wesley had no intention of ever allowing that to happen. For once, he was fairly certain that Cynthia was one of the few women in the world who would be able to satisfy his baser urges and his need to indulge in them on a very regular basis.

  Right now he was suffering, waiting for their wedding night, but he knew it was going to be worth it. Keeping her in line was a full time job; he certainly hadn't wanted to risk leaving the house to find a willing woman, only to return and find that she'd run rampant in his absence. Although, if he were being entirely truthful with himself, he would admit that the attractions of other women had paled after meeting Cynthia anyway. He wanted her, very badly, and trying to find a substitute didn't hold any real appeal. Wesley was experienced enough with women to know that a substitute never appeased him.

  Waiting for his wedding night would be worth it.

  In the meantime, he'd enjoy stolen moments, like he was about to right now. Judging the current pathway they were on to be dark enough that no one would be able to immediately discern their identities, Wesley pulled her off the gravel and pushed her up against a tree. Cynthia squeaked, but before she could speak or protest, his mouth was on hers in a possessive, passionate kiss. A conqueror's kiss, meant to dominate, to claim.

  His senses thrilled as she softened against him, opening her lips to invite him in, her hands pressed against his chest but not pushing him away. Trapping her, his hands planted firmly on either side of her body, the bark of the tree digging into his hands, Wesley kissed her with all the expert knowledge of a degenerate rake. Cynthia melted against him; he could practically feel her submission to him as he pressed his body against hers, his cock digging into the softness of her stomach.

  Nipping at her full lower lip, he raised his head slightly, glaring down at her in the dim light.

  "No other men, baggage," he said, his voice darkly serious.

  Cynthia glared back up at him, not at all cowed. "No other women, my Lord," she retorted tartly.

  "Agreed," he said immediately, lowering his head again. "Shall we seal our deal with a kiss?"

  The man knew how to seduce with his mouth... his tongue... Cynthia moaned as he pressed her back against the tree, allowing it to hold her up while he made free with his hands. The low neckline of her ball gown made it easy for him to pull her breasts free, resting them on top of the fabric, so that he could pinch and roll the tender buds between his fingers. Whimpering against his lips, Cynthia arched, the slick folds between her legs aching with envy as he plucked her rosy, throbbing tips. She could feel his hardness rubbing against her and her insides clenched.

  Would he ruin her now? Finally?

  She wasn't sure how she felt about being ruined in the gardens behind the Assembly Rooms, but right now her body didn't care. It craved his touch, the rising pleasure in her core, and the fire he created in her belly.

  When he pulled away from the kiss and put his mouth to her breast, she moan
ed loudly and he immediately put his hand over her lips, muffling the noise. Eyes wide, she stared at their surroundings, remembering that they were outside where anyone could walk by and see them. Although they might not see her face, it was unmistakable what they were doing. Excitement and terror filled her equally.

  She'd never allowed a gentleman to take so many liberties with her, because she hadn't wanted to chance being caught and shaming her family or the Countess. If she'd ever thought she could get away with it, she might have, but before the Earl she'd always had to be worried about her reputation. Now, if anyone were to come upon them, Wesley would be the one blamed, not her. No one would blame her for following her betrothed's lead... she wouldn't be ruined... and it gave her a sense of freedom like she'd never had before.

  Cynthia almost wanted someone to walk by, to see Wesley bent over her breasts, to see her skirts as they slowly slid up her legs... her alabaster skin was glowing in the moonlight. It would be shocking. Scandalous. And horribly exciting.

  Fingers slid underneath her skirts, only the Earl's body would keep a passerby from seeing her completely at this point. She moaned against his hand, panting as his fingers slid through her folds, becoming soaked in her cream. The Earl moaned too, and bit down on her nipple. It was pleasure and pain all rolled into one, and she was reminded abruptly of the little clips he'd put on her nipples when he'd last punished her.

  As if in remembrance, her bottom throbbed. Cynthia writhed against him, rubbing her pussy against his hand as her passion grew exponentially with each stroke of his fingers. She couldn't contain herself, and if he hadn't kept his hand firmly planted over her mouth, her sensual cries would have been heard all over the gardens. Then Wesley's mouth replaced his hand, his desperate kiss drinking in her cries as cool night air wafted across her wet nipple and his fingers shoved inside of her.

  Every muscle in her lower body seemed to clench, all at once, and she felt her clit rubbing hard against the heel of his hand as he rocked against her, applying rhythmic pressure against her tender parts. Cynthia was on fire, the pleasure building between her legs somehow much more intense than when she touched herself there. It was almost more exciting when it was the Earl touching her, more pleasurable... his fingers pushed back and forth inside of her, making her clench around him as her juices dripped over his hand.

  She cried out, her passion muffled by his lips as he pressed her hard against the tree. Writhing, she could hear the rip of fabric as her dress tore against the bark, and she didn't care. It only excited her more. Ecstasy pulsed through her core as his fingers stroked her insides, her hands clutching at him as her muscles went weak with the overwhelming pleasure that sizzled along her body. Her ears filled with a roaring sound as she rode his hand, in the middle of a garden, the excitement of their surroundings enhancing her rapture.

  When he withdrew his hand, letting her skirts fall back into place, she moaned as he lifted his mouth from hers. Every inch of her skin felt like it was fizzing, like the top of the glass of champagne, effervescence escaping the only way it could. Her knees were weak, too weak to hold her, and she found herself sliding down the Earl's front until she was on her knees in front of him.

  Shocked that he'd let her fall, she looked up at him in the darkness, just as the Earl's hand slid into her hair and tilted her head even further back. Her face was shadowed, but he could still see her swollen, parted lips, as she panted, and the creamy swells of her breasts hanging free of her gown in the night air. Wesley was too far gone to care about propriety or being caught; he desperately needed relief after having Cynthia writhing and moaning against him in such a wanton manner.

  It was the work of a moment to undo the front of his breeches, something he could easily do with one hand, and then he was pressing the head of his cock against her mouth.

  "Open," he hissed at her, his balls throbbing with need as the softness of her lips pressed against his sensitive tip. "And don't use your teeth."

  Wet heat surrounded him as he thrust forward, one hand still tangled in her hair, using it to guide her head, and he braced the other against the tree behind her so that he could bend over and watch as she took his cock into her mouth. The shocked look on her face made him feel rampantly possessive; it was obvious she hadn't done this before and he relished the knowledge that he was the first - and only - man to have her body. Even if she'd flirted and played with danger, she hadn't indulged.

  She was his. All his. To corrupt and play with, to mold and teach, and to conquer and claim. He was on fire for her, and he didn't think it would ever be quenched; every touch only seemed to feed it, like the bellows of a blacksmith. Even when it was banked, the embers glowed, waiting to be reignited to full strength.

  Feeling the vibrations of her moans traveling up the length of his cock, he had to stifle his own groan as he began to thrust back and forth in her mouth. Her small hands pressed against his thighs; she didn't try to push him away, she was bracing herself against him as he pushed deeper.

  "Relax..." he murmured as he felt her gag, the small muscles in the back of her throat massaging the head of his dick. He dug his fingers into the base of her skull, massaging her scalp to help her follow his order. "Breathe through your nose, you're doing very well."

  At any other time, Cynthia might have been insulted by his praise. Especially when it came to men - and the Earl in particular - she didn't want to do very well, she wanted to be wonderful. Perfect. Unforgettable. But right now she was too busy trying to breathe without choking.

  When Mr. Carter had suggested that she use her mouth on him, this hadn't been quite what she pictured. This was much more raw, much more primal. She felt incredibly small and submissive, for the first time in her life, on her knees before the Earl. The desire to please him was overwhelming, and not something she would have expected. The taste of male flesh was salty, musky, and had awakened a kind of craving inside of her. Her tongue explored the underside of his cock, relishing the forbidden flavors, as tears smarted in the back of her eyes from trying not to gag.

  It was obvious the Earl was enjoying using her mouth this way, and it was much less embarrassing and painful than when he'd used her bottom. Even though she was becoming somewhat lightheaded, Cynthia was enjoying it too. The decadence of having her breasts exposed, the revelation of the Earl's cock between her lips, the hunger she felt from him even though his face was shadowed... and all of it tempered with the knowledge that someone could walk by at any moment. That if they were seen, there would be no socially acceptable excuse for what they were doing... it wouldn't ruin her reputation, but it would certainly cause a scandal.

  Cynthia had spent her life chasing the forbidden, but she'd always drawn certain lines. Now she didn't have to; the Earl was drawing them for her and he was putting them much farther out than she might have - if she'd even had the knowledge. She lived for excitement, adventure, and the pleasures that came from disobedience. The Earl had brought entirely new avenues for all of those things into her life.

  "Suck, harder," he groaned, his thrusts into her mouth becoming harder, going deeper. The fingers pressing into the back of her head actually did help keep her relaxed, although she almost panicked when she first felt him actually enter her throat.

  It was dizzying, exciting, terrifying... she felt so small and vulnerable on her knees before him, feeling his masculine strength and knowing that she could choke on him... but she didn't bite down. She tried to do what he said, relaxing her throat and suckling on the thick rod that was pumping between her lips. Immediately she was rewarded with a hoarse, low cry, and she felt him actually swell larger.

  The soft skin on the underside of his cock pulsed against her tongue and she tried to jerk back as something hot slid down the back of her throat.

  "Swallow."

  Not that he left her much of a choice, his hand pressing firmly on the back of her head, holding her in place as he emptied himself. She could feel the pulsing of each jet of liquid pressing down on her tongue
, before her throat tightened, convulsively swallowing the subsequent spurt. The Earl's tight grip on the back of her head began to loosen, his breathing becoming ragged, and he softened inside of her mouth, slowly shrinking in size. Unsure of what to do, she continued to suckle, gently sucking, fascinated by the way it felt as he dwindled. The hand holding her head began to caress her. Her pins had already mostly fallen out of her hair, leaving the long strands tumbled down to her shoulders, and he ran his fingers through it, humming low in appreciation.

  Looking down at the young woman who was still laving his cock with attention, Wesley had never felt so damned lucky in his life. Who knew that his ward would turn out to be such a treasure? He was glad that he hadn't followed his original plan of foisting her off on some other sap. Cynthia was all his and he didn't have to share her with anyone.

  Gently, he moved to pull himself away from her all too tempting mouth, aware that they'd probably exceeded the amount of time they could reasonably spend in the gardens without being caught. They were only lucky that no one had walked by while they'd been occupied.

  "Did I do it right?"

  Cynthia's sultry voice, tempered by uncertainty, nearly made Wesley laugh aloud. Little minx. Helping her to her feet, he looked down into her bright eyes, which were peering at him as if searching for clues.

  "Yes, baggage, that was delightful," he murmured, enjoying the look of pride and pleasure that lit up her face. Unable to help himself, he leaned down and took her mouth in another kiss, taking the opportunity to caress her breasts one last time as he tucked them back inside of her gown. From the way she murmured and squirmed against him, he was sure that, if he'd wanted to, he'd be able to stoke the flames of her passion again already.