Page 42 of When the Marquess Needed Me (The Rake Chronicles #4)

Epilogue the First

London, England

July 1820

Later That Same Evening

“R ide me, my love,” her fiancé whispered, brushing back her hair with his fingertips and looking deep into her eyes.

She was sitting astride him, completely unclothed and with her hair unbound. They had already copulated ferociously up against the wall and on the floor and then on the bed. But it had not been enough. Beatrice was not sure that it would ever be enough.

So, now, Beatrice had his cock in her quim once again, and she obeyed his command. She began a slow, tantalizing pace, rolling her hips. He groaned as she did so.

“You’re so fucking sweet,” he said. “I will never understand how your pussy is so perfect. So tight and—ahhh, fuck, Beatrice.”

While these words gratified her, she wanted more from him. She stopped moving and he cried out.

“Don’t stop,” he begged.

“Tell me that you’re mine,” she panted.

“I’m yours,” he said, clearly desperate for her to continue, his hands now grasping her hips. His fingertips dug into her ever so slightly. She loved the feeling that he was possessing her, grasping her, making her his own.

She rolled her hips again, lazily, letting her cunt clench and unclench over him.

“Fuck. Yes.”

But then she stopped again.

“Tell me that you’ll never belong to another.”

“I’ll never belong to another.”

She rewarded him again. In response, he moaned in such an abandoned manner that she felt herself grow even wetter on his cock.

“Tell me that you love me.”

“I love you, Beatrice.”

She moved once more, but this time he didn’t let her stop.

Instead, he took over, moving her up and down on his cock.

And he didn’t stop speaking.

“I love you and only you,” he said, moving her upwards and then down again, making her cry out at the deliciousness of the sensation. “You are everything to me. Everything. I would die for you. And I would die without you.”

“Thomas,” she cried, the sweetness of his words and his movements sending her to the edge.

“I don’t just want you, Beatrice. I need you.”

She came apart then. Her muscles clenched and unclenched over him and she was forced to steady herself on his shoulders.

“I am going to spend, my love,” he said, when she had stilled. His hands were holding her steady.

“Then spend,” she said, moving up again and back down.

He swore. “I shouldn’t. Not inside of you.”

“I want you to,” she said, still riding him up and down. He let out a hiss.

“Truly?”

Leith looked up at her, the amber of his eyes glowing.

“Yes.”

He directed her pace then, in a frantic, hurried rhythm.

When he came, he jerked beneath her, filling her with his seed.

The truth was that she wanted everything with this man. To have his title and his children and all his love. She always had, even when she had only been reading about him in the scandal sheets, and she hadn’t known anything about him beyond his reputation for vice.

“I love you so much,” she gasped, taken by the beauty of him spending inside of her. The pureness of his ardor, of his pleasure, moved her. “I would never be able to bear losing you. Not again.”

He cupped her face. “You’ll never have to find out. I am yours.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved, both of them spellbound by the idea of no more separations. Two weeks had become forever.

Afterwards, they rang for a servant and ordered dinner from the tavern. They ate in bed, laughing and kissing. For perhaps the first time in their entire acquaintance, they were completely at peace and completely secure in their love for each other. Once they were done eating and she was in his arms once more, her head resting against his chest, he said, “You never told me what you bought in the shop.”

She laughed. It was very like him to think of that at such a moment. He was not a man to forget details.

“You will laugh.”

“Could it be more ridiculous than a riding crop?”

“I suppose not. But it is not ridiculous in that direction. I will show you.”

She rose from the bed and padded to her trunk. Luckily, Sally had packed what she sought close to the top.

When she brought the object back to bed, he immediately exclaimed, “A book!”

“Yes, I knew you would laugh.”

“For once, I am the more adventurous party.”

“I wanted to get something that I knew you would consent to use. But you surprised me with your own selections.”

“Well,” he said, flipping through the book. “It is still very interesting. Even if you’re not as daring as me. But we cannot all be sexual renegades.”

She snorted but perused the pages with him. Each one showed the same couple in a different position. Some of them were mundane, some of them very scandalous indeed, and some appeared frankly impossible. But, with him, she wanted to try.

He pointed to a particularly challenging image that involved the woman standing on her head.

“Would you dare? I am not sure that you would.”

“Yes,” she said, flashing the gap between her teeth and then kissing him. “If only because you dared me. To ravish you , in fact, why…I’d do anything.”

He kissed her with a laugh.

Miss Beatrice Salisbury had never been so happy.