Page 72 of Forever Her Bachelor

He didn’t cast her aside like she meant nothing.

The relief of the truth had her pulling him closer, his hands on her rear. One of her hands wove through his thick hair, causing him to moan into her mouth. Pippa’s free hand traveled to his breeches, blindly trying to undo the flap.

“Dear God, Kitten. We need to talk.” Stilling her hand with his free one, he pressed his head against hers.

Pippa opened her eyes to find her husband breathing harshly. “Talk? Can it not wait?” she asked, pressing her body to his.

Her core was aching for him. She needed him to stop her from dwelling on the years they had lost. All she could do was focus on the present, and in that moment, she wanted her ridiculously dashing husband.

Deciding she was tired of being good, tired of waiting, Pippa pressed the palm of her hand to his member, squeezing the thick, hard flesh. “I want you. Now.”

Grabbing her by the neck, Chauncey slammed his mouth against hers, pressing Pippa against the table as his hands roamed her body. Pulling at the buttons of his flap, she slid her hands inside, freeing his sizable girth.

“You want your husband to take you right here in the open?” he asked roughly, pulling down her bodice to reveal one of her breasts.

He sucked and licked, taking out her other breast, pinching and teasing the pert pink nipple.

Her body quivered in need as she stroked his length. “Yes, now, Chauncey,” she demanded, needing him inside of her.

She was tired of waiting, tired of giving others the power over them. No more. She would surrender to her feelings, to him.

Chauncey.

As she released a breathy sigh, Pippa’s head fell back as he nipped and sucked her neck, sending tingles of pleasures rippling through her.

She could sense his hand undoing his breeches before his body shifted. Chauncey stood, taking a step away from her to remove his waist coat. He took the familiar velvet pouch of aFrench letter out of his pocket before tossing his coat onto the worktable.

“Oh,” Pippa said, shocked to see that he was carrying one on his person. “You are prepared.” She swallowed down the familiar but nagging disappointment.

A hesitant chuckle escaped him. “I do try to be, and I did promise you.” He slid the sheath on his impressive cock. “Turn around, wife.” The command was crisp and clear, said with the authority of a man who knew exactly what he craved.

She clenched her thighs together, trying to diffuse the pulsating need.

Pippa slowly turned to face the back of the orangery, her body trembling from anticipation and excitement. They were well hidden in the corner without any windows to reveal their location. The thought of being discovered caused a dark thrill to slide through her veins.

Pulling his wife against his chest, he licked the shell of her ear. Pippa whimpered, trying to silence the lust that was currently shouting at her. “Bend over, Kitten.”

The command had Pippa quivering, her sex pulsating and throbbing so much she was delirious with lust. The cool steel of the table teased her exposed nipples as Chauncey lifted her skirts. Cool air teased Pippa’s most sensitive area as she laid exposed for anyone to find her in such a way. Yet she did not care in the least; the only thing she wanted was her husband.

As if he could read her mind, Chauncey tortured her with his hard member. The hot flesh ran through her soaked folds, kissing her nub with its tip. Her poor greedy core clenched, a fresh wave of arousal seeping out of her.

“Now,” she cried out, tired of the waiting and teasing.

“Tell me what you want.” His member was at her entrance, hot and throbbing, and she wanted nothing more than to have it inside of her. Impatiently, Pippa tried to push onto him, but heheld her firmly in place, preventing her from getting what she wanted.

“St. Clara!” she called out, frustrated. She turned, glaring at him over her shoulder.

He gave her a wickedly sinister smile. “Tell me, Kitten, and I’ll give you what you want.” He pressed the tip of his shaft into her wet heat. She released a wanton moan, wanting him to fill her. Pippa’s legs shook furiously as she tried to contain herself.

She knew he wanted her to say the wicked words, and God did she want to. She wanted to give him everything—and so she did. “I-I want you to … fuck me…” She felt empowered, in control. Pippa had never cursed in her life; the opportunity had never presented itself until now with her wicked husband.

“And I will.” He slammed into her, and her needy body accepted him willingly.

Crying out, Pippa experienced the purest form of pleasure, her body relaxing slightly at getting exactly what it had been craving.

Her husband.

Pippa’s hand balled into a fist, giving her the leverage to meet Chauncey’s desperate thrust. The only sound in the dome orangery was the sweet music of their lovemaking. His animalistic grunts mixed with her wanton cries was a beautiful crescendo swirling around every part of her brain.