Page 16 of A Deal with a Rake (Wicked Widows’ League #35)

“Y ou.”

Bloody fecking hell.

He was completely undone by the breathtaking woman in his arms. He’d never believed in love or finding the one person that was meant for him.

It was all bullshite to Tavish.

His da would often tell them about how he fell in love with their ma the first time he’d seen her.

When he was a boy, he’d thought the story romantic and that perhaps he would find the woman he was supposed to marry the same way.

But as he became older, he realized that there wasn’t one perfect person for anyone.

Now as his hands roamed her curvy little body, the material of the dress preventing him from touching her bare skin, Tavish realized with sparkling clarity that by some miracle Florentia Vaughn was meant to be his.

She’d never be Florentia Wilcox to him. She’ll never be tainted with that old bastard Summerset’s name ever again.

He wanted her naked, right there in the parlor in broad daylight with a house full of servants.

She turned in his arms. Her chin lifted, the crown of her head barely reaching his chest. Those eyes, bright as emeralds struck him harder than any blow he’d taken in the ring.

She panted, her breath sliding against his skin, like she’d been fighting in a real ring. “I won’t marry you. I have no need to be controlled again, and I won’t birth you an Irish brood,” she said, leaning into him.

“Considering marrying me already, are ya?” he asked, trying to urge his aching cock to go down.

Her perfect sized tits pressed against him, and Tavish had to fight against the urge to haul her over his shoulder.

Florentia’s hand pressed against his chest like she wanted to push him away, but instead, she fisted the silky material of his shirt. “I won’t belong to another man.”

He nodded in agreement, understanding that to that old bastard Summerset, she’d been a possession.

“You’ll belong to me, Princess.” He tightened his arms around her waist, his hand going to the swell of her arse.

“But the difference is,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over hers, “I’d belong to you as well. ”

Her hands went to his hair, pulling slightly at his nape. “This is madness,” she said, arching up to meet him.

“Fecking bloody madness,” he agreed, before taking her lips in a fierce kiss.

She opened to him, accepting his tongue greedily. Tavish pulled at the flimsy string of her day dress, making quick work of freeing her from the blasted thing.

She pulled at his new waistcoat, buttons falling everywhere. He pulled at the back of her dress, a tearing sound breaking the silence of the room.

The only noises were the sounds of their kissing, her occasional breathy mewls of pleasure.

Her dress fell down her body, and she kicked out of it, eager to be free of it. Small, deft hands pulled at the flaps of his breeches.

“Take my cock out, a chuisle ,” he whispered the endearment.

My pulse .

And damn did she feel like it. It was like his heart had never beaten before he met her. His fingers massaged the strands of her hair, delicate little pins falling to the plush carpet. A tumble of loose blonde curls fell to her milky shoulders.

A trembling hand wrapped around his cock, and he had to count backwards to keep from embarrassing himself. He made quick work of her undergarments, ripping her stays off, leaving her in nothing but a thin chemise.

She explored his hard length, pumping him from root to tip, her wrist twisting in delicious torture.

Tavish took the hem of her chemise in his hands and pulled it up her delicious body. Releasing him, she held her hands up, allowing him to pull the material over her head.

“Fecking hell, you’re perfect,” he grunted out.

His eyes raked over her long legs, flaring hips, small, soft abdomen, and full perky little tits. Just big enough to fit perfectly in his hands.

Tavish ripped his shirtsleeve over his head, throwing it across the room. Picking her up, he captured her mouth with his, wanting to melt at her little whimper of surprise.

Long legs wrapped around his waist, as he staggered to the chaise lounge, his hands secure on that plump little arse of hers.

Their tongues battled against each other until he finally won, sucking her tongue into his mouth.

She was sweet, the taste of her going straight to his hard shaft. Turning them, he placed her down on the chaise, forcing himself to stop kissing her, so that he could finally rid himself of the remainder of his damned clothes.

“I want you now,” she commanded, as he snatched one book and then the other off the chaise, tossing them into the abyss of the drawing room.

His breeches and drawers were next. Finally, he was free.

Joining her on the chaise. Tavish gripped her hair, dragging her to him, bringing her lips to his, as her hands ran up and down his body.

He was all muscle, always had been, even as a lad.

He flipped them over so that she was spread out on top of him. Her breasts to his chest, her sex leaking on his cock.

“Ride me, Princess.” He took hold of her legs, bringing her knees to straddle him.

He rocked her against his cock, loving the feel of her gliding against him.

“God, yes,” she moaned, rising above him to sit up as he laid spread out beneath her on the chaise lounge.

Tavish took his cock in his hand, covering himself in her juices. He chased her, pulling her to him, to take one of her pert pink nipples into his mouth.

She sank down on top of him, desperate, frantic. Florentia cried out in pleasure as he grunted around her nipple.

She was snug, wet, warm, home.

He’d wandered for years, feeling like the odd man out in his large family of overachievers, only to find what he’d been looking for in a spoiled ex-debutante.

“That’s it, Princess. Ride my cock,” he said, before he sucked the flesh of her breast.

He bit her lightly, and she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders, her core tightening around his cock, as he was bathed in her juices. “Yes, come on my fecking cock.”

“Tavish!” she cried out, one of her hands pulling his hair so hard it hurt.

He kissed up her body, sucking on her neck, near to bruising. With his hands on her waist, he tried to control her speed on top of him.

She wasn’t having it.

Florentia’s speed increased, as he tightened his hand around her waist, going deeper and deeper with every motion.

“Ahh,” she shouted, her head falling back, her long hair tickling his fingers around her waist. She rocked through another release, bigger than her first.

“You’re never fecking escaping me, you hear me, a chuisle .” He bit her bottom lip.

She shook her head, frantically. “Don’t want to,” she panted, her green eyes digging into his very being. “Yours.”

That one little word rearranged Tavish’s world forever.

Desperate. He flipped them over without breaking their erotic rhythm. Lifting one of her legs, he pounded into her relentlessly, loving the way she begged for his cock.

“More, Tavish, please more.” Her fingers dug into the flesh of his arse.

Her walls spasmed around him, gripping him in a chokehold. She cried out in ecstasy as her body spasmed wildly. He held her to his chest like the treasure she was, his own climax tumbled after hers.

“Fecking, bloody, hell,” he shouted, sitting up and dragging her to him to pound into her wet heat, as he spilled himself inside of her until he was spent.

Pressing himself against her, he pulled her to him for a wild, filthy kiss, then rolled them again so that she was lying across him. He stroked down her back, slowing the kiss.

She looked at him, a smile on her pretty face. “Thank you.”

He laughed and kissed her on the forehead. “Oh, now you have bloody manners. I should’ve shagged you hours ago.”

“Shut up, you bloody brute,” she said, playfully kissing his chest.

“I’m your bloody brute now, Princess.” He tapped her arse playfully, causing her to giggle.

“Yes, I suppose you are.” She gave him a brilliant smile before she kissed him.

The next two days were spent with Florentia. It was nonstop shagging, and Tavish couldn’t get enough of her. The first day, he’d taken her on every surface of the parlor, before Anderson knocked on the door asking if they were having dinner.

They weren’t.

When they finally retired to his chambers, which he had made theirs after they spent the first night together, he took pleasure in teaching her how to properly please a man with her mouth.

After spending the night with her in his arms, her body wrapped around his, Tavish wasn’t going to ever going to allow her sleep without him again if he had anything to say about it.

Talking to her was as easy as breathing, and they stayed wrapped in each other’s arms learning everything they could about each other.

And he liked listening to her talk, especially when she talked about books. Underneath her hard exterior was a true bluestocking, but she did threaten to poison him if he ever told anyone.

Tavish definitely didn’t want to test that theory.

He chuckled to himself as he jogged down the stairs. Old Summerset should’ve died a thousand times for what he did to her. He wished he could bring the bastard back to life so he could kill him all over again.

Beautiful, strong Florentia had done whatever she had to, to put an end to Summerset’s abuse.

Tavish was so proud, so in awe of her. She wasn’t all shyness and quiet beauty. She was fire and ice combined, and he loved it.

A whistle whipped through the parlor when he entered, and Dutch stood by the sideboard, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His ma and Declan were standing in the center of the parlor. All the furniture was back into its original position.

“Would you take a look at you, Yer Grace,” Dutch said, raising his glass in salute to Tavish.

“Tavish O’Brien, don’t you look like a proper duke,” his ma said, walking over to him. Her firm hands patting his chest.

Anderson had secured him a valet in a day. Jessee was older than he and had worked for an old earl who had recently passed.