Page 26 of The Viscount Needs a Wife (All for Love #2)

A nnis woke the next morning to her husband plastered to her like a limpet.

He was wrapped round her tighter than a cloak, his arm across her belly, his knees tucked into the back of hers and his face buried in the back of her neck.

He snuffled when she moved and tightened his arm round her, pulling her back into his chest.

She sighed, smiling and stroking the hairs on his arm.

“That tickles,” he said.

She turned her head and twisted round to face him. “Do you realize you sleep-hug?” she said.

He smiled lazily. “Is that a variation of sleepwalking?”

“Yes. Every time I wake up, you’re wrapped round me tighter than a boa constrictor. I’m not complaining, though. I like it,” she hastened to add with a softening smile.

“Good, because I don’t plan to stop,” he said. Then he added, “I don’t even know that I could. I’m not aware that I’m doing it. I’ve been waking up hugging pillows for the past four months,” he admitted a little sheepishly.

Her heart melted, and she slid closer, wrapping her arms round him and kissing his nose.

“Well, I’m here now. You don’t have to hug the pillows.”

“You’re far better than a pillow,” he said kissing her. “Let me show you,” he said diving under the covers.

She squeaked when his mouth landed on her belly and blurted, and she giggled and shrieked helplessly when he tickled her.

“Emrys, stop!” she begged breathlessly between giggles. I have never giggled in my life! What would Mama say to me behaving with such abandon?

He did stop, but then he did something else that extracted a different kind of noise from her. His mouth moved lower, and his lips and tongue made her groan.

“Emrys . . .” she said faintly.

A little while later she was limp and breathless as he sat up looking pleased with himself and wiped his face on the sheets.

His cock jutted out from his groin, large and pink as he knelt looking at her.

She sat up on her elbow to get a better look at it in its fully engorged glory. She put out a hand. “May I?” she asked, shocked at her own boldness, but she wanted to touch and feel it. Stroke it.

He nodded. “Go ahead. It won’t bite, but I don’t guarantee it won’t leak.” He smirked.

She stroked it with a tentative finger, and he gasped. It was hot to the touch and when her fist closed around the shaft, she found it silky smooth, the skin so soft it almost felt like velvet. A velvet-encased, hot, iron shaft, with a bulbous head peeking through a hood of skin.

“Annis, that feels very good,” he said, his voice gravelly and strained.

She looked up at his face which had taken on that twisted grimace he got when most aroused.

“Can I make you come?” she asked and squashed the outraged voice squawking in the back of her head.

“Yes, very easily,” he said, his growly voice making something inside her hum. “You know I made myself come with my hand thinking of you lots of times,” he said lying down beside her, so she could continue to stroke him.

“Really?” she said, arrested a moment in shock. “When was the first time you did that?” She resumed stroking him.

“The day we went to Kegworth. I first noticed your breasts the night before when we played cards with the dowager and Lady Ava. Do you remember that evening?”

“Yes.” She stroked him steadily, and he began moving his hips into her hand.

“You were wearing a little seed pearl brooch in the middle of your bosom. Your gown was so modest, not a skerrick of flesh anywhere, but the cloth of the bodice clung to your shape. I couldn’t take my damned eyes off your breasts.

They haunted me. I was obsessed with them.

And I couldn’t stop wondering what they looked like, would feel and taste like.

Now I know.” He moved a little closer and dropped his head, pushing her back against the pillows, so he could get to her breasts.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get enough of them,” he said, opening his mouth over her nipple and engulfing as much of her breast as he could. Beneath him, she arched up into his touch and reminded herself to continue stroking his cock with her hand while he moved his hips.

He let the nipple slip from his mouth with a soft moan. “You’re going to drive me to madness if you fall pregnant. They’ll get much bigger and more sensitive.” he said hoarsely.

She jerked at the mention of pregnancy. “You want more children?” she asked, slightly breathless.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I? You’d make a wonderful mother—you already do. Watching you with Ewen and the girls...” He sighed, closing his eyes, and thrust into her hand with more determination. After a few moments he said hoarsely, “Do you mind if I finish inside you?”

“N-no,” she stammered, her body pulsing at the notion.

“Good, I’m feeling quite wolfish today.” He nudged her legs apart and settled between her legs. His fingers traced along her channel and then thrust inside firmly. She gasped.

“Good or sore?” he asked quickly.

“G-good,” she said.

“You’re wet enough,” he muttered. “Are you sure?” He moved his cock to her entrance but stayed his thrust.

“Yes,” she said, quite breathless. Her body was pulsing, the ache deep inside gnawing at her. If he was feeling wolfish, she was feeling wanton and deeply needy.

He pushed forward hard and groaned as he sank all the way into her, driving a reciprocal groan from her.

He rolled onto his side dragging her with him and hitched her leg over his hip and arm, his hand resting on her rump, where it squeezed in involuntary rhythm with his thrusts.

This position was different, the angle catching her in more of the places that felt good. He kissed her, using his tongue deeply.

The hand on her rump slid lower, and she felt his fingers stroking between her legs from behind, touching her where his cock slid in and out of her.

The sensations were so unexpected and naughty, her flesh throbbed, and a pleasurable rush began to build.

She pressed closer, her hips moving with involuntary passion in time with his.

She whimpered and moaned into his mouth as he thrust harder and deeper. His other arm crushing her against him.

The pleasure burst in a shower of sparks and throbs, and he groaned loudly, his thrusting becoming jagged as she felt the hot rush once again of his seed inside her.

He held her tight against him as the spasm shuddered through his body and he grunted and moaned with it.

“Annis! Annis!” He let out a breath and sighed, going gradually limp.

They lay in mutual silence in each other’s arms for several minutes after that.

Eventually he stirred enough to say, “I hope that will stay my appetite sufficiently so that I can behave with decorum today, but I wouldn’t guarantee it.

Prepare to be ravished behind a curtain at unexpected moments,” he said with a smile.

She laughed which made his softening flesh retreat. They separated slowly with little kisses.

“Shall I call for a bath?” he asked.

“Oh, that sounds heavenly,” she said, realizing with a shock that she could have as many baths as she chose now. The change in her status was going to take a bit of getting used to.

*

Emrys washed and shaved in the hot water brought by the servants and left his wife to her bath while he disappeared into the dressing room attached to their new bedchamber to let his long-suffering valet dress him.

He would need to organize a maid for her and give her an allowance to buy clothes.

He wasn’t the kind of man to take much notice of what women wore, but even he knew her old wardrobe wasn’t going to be suitable for her new title.

As he wrestled with his cravat— drat, I hate the bloody things —he reflected with satisfaction on his second wedding night.

A great deal better than his first, which had ended disastrously with his new bride in tears and himself feeling like the biggest monster in creation.

Not that he had meant to hurt her, of course, but his inexperience and her lack of knowledge—no one had told her what to expect!

—had presaged an encounter that left her a little sore and disappointed and him dismayed and embarrassed.

He had made it up to her and thought all was well, but with hindsight he wondered.

In any case, he was decidedly more confident that Annis had derived almost as much pleasure from the night and morning’s activities as he had.

Finally satisfied with his neckcloth, he combed his unruly hair and realized that there was something more than pleasure he had taken from the experience: comfort.

Comfort, a warm feeling in his chest and belly.

Annis gave him comfort. It was a shock after months of depression to realize he actually felt happy.

Happier than he had felt in a very long time.

With the perspective of hindsight, he realized that well before Caro’s betrayal and death he had not actually been happy.

He thought he was, he thought he was content.

He knew life wasn’t a constant state of bliss, but he thought he was happy.

The truth was the youthful love he had shared with Caro had withered slowly and silently on the vine of marital decay.

He had still loved her, but she had not loved him.

And the woman he thought she was had become largely a figment of his imagination. He hadn’t really known her.

How all this had happened he still wasn’t sure; except he knew he hadn’t paid enough attention. He hadn’t tried hard enough to be the husband she needed. He’d let her down and hurt her. All unknowingly, all unintentionally. But he could not afford to make the same mistakes again, not with Annis.