To Tame a Wicked Widow Page 3

  “Shall we retire to bed, then?” she said softly.

  “As soon as you remove your nightgown.”

  “Oh? Am I a Tattersall’s thoroughbred to be inspected?” Madeline teased.

  “Indeed,” he replied gravely. “I wish to know the color and size of your nipples, before and after I suck them. And then you’ll part your legs and show me your cunt. I think you might be rather wet and it’s making me very, very hungry.”

  Madeline quivered and closed her eyes briefly. Then she removed her nightgown and draped it over a chair, revealing, as he’d suspected, the figure of a goddess. Lush, lush breasts, with large rosy brown nipples, narrow waist, and full, flaring hips. A thatch of red curls covered her mound, perhaps a shade darker than her hair, her skin a delicate cream in contrast. “Seen your fill?”

  “Never,” he replied. As if any man could get tired of such a view.

  Color flashed across her cheekbones, and she quickly turned and strolled over to the thankfully large four-poster bed to perch on the end. He followed, then nudged her thighs open so he could stand between them. Madeline leaned back with her hands flat on the bed, an action that tilted her perfect breasts up and offered those big swollen nipples for his attention.

  “May I?” he asked, his voice so thick with want it was a miracle she understood.

  “If you don’t, I may strangle you,” she replied, her breath catching when he began to circle her left nipple with a fingertip.

  “Hmmm,” he said slowly, moving his finger to rub across the taut peak. “Petal soft. And getting darker in hue. Do you like being stroked here?”

  Madeline gasped. “Harder. Pinch them. Some women don’t enjoy it, but I…I like a bite of pain.”

  “Do you?” he mused. “Show me.”

  “Like this.” Obediently, she cupped her breasts in her palms, using her index and middle fingers to firmly and rhythmically pluck each nipple. Hell. He couldn’t allow too much of this erotic show, or he’d be coming like a geyser without even getting inside her.

  “Do you like having them sucked?”

  “Yes. And bitten,” she said huskily, lifting one breast higher in encouragement. “Go on.”

  A part of him rebelled at the order. When he leaned down, instead of tending to her nipple, he tilted his head and kissed her.

  Fire.

  So sweet. Brandy and something entirely Madeline. Intoxicated by the warmth, the tentative dart of her tongue, he cupped her face and plundered her mouth. She moaned, the needy sound music to his ears, and he was glad that in the past he’d at least had the sense to practice kissing with several willing maids, even if he’d never gone further.

  Eventually she pulled away, her lips gratifyingly pink and swollen. “My nipples,” she said, not an instruction but a plea, and Ethan smiled.

  “I have passed the kissing exam, then?” he replied, weighing a breast in each hand and tormenting the rock-hard peaks with his thumbs.

  “Indeed. One hundred percent, I am p-pleased and surprised to report.”

  “Surprised?” Ethan replied, tweaking her nipples in retaliation, and she immediately pressed them harder against his hands in an unspoken request for more. “I should hope I can kiss at least. I haven’t been living entirely as a monk.”

  “Then prove it. Further down. Or much further down, if you dare.”

  He grinned. “A terrible pun, my lady. So terrible, in fact, you deserve a thorough tongue lashing.”

  Madeline trembled, and almost clumsy in her haste, shifted back on the bed to rest on one elbow while her other hand delved between her legs to stroke the glistening curls guarding her mound. “Then I shall dutifully accept my punishment.”

  Fierce lust coursed through him. Punishment? The lady should be careful what she wished for. He’d read countless tales of sexual discipline, and it was entirely too easy to imagine Madeline’s rounded backside spanked pink and warm, or stuffed with a thumb-sized dildo. Her wrists bound above her head, small jeweled clamps on her nipples, while she sobbed her need and begged him to let her come…

  Ethan quickly shook his head to clear the ridiculous thoughts. Madeline was doing him an enormous favor, and this was strictly a one night liaison. Besides, if he wanted to indulge in real life the kind of play that aroused him most, he’d probably have to visit one of those high-end pleasure clubs in London. Most ton ladies would run screaming at even the thought of such hedonistic acts.

  No, he had to concentrate on the here and now, and not ponder what would never be.

  Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

  The word echoed in Madeline’s head, but the damned man had paused. Why had he shaken his head and frowned? Was there something about her he didn’t like?

  Dismay twisted around her heart and squeezed. Quickly followed by irritation that Ethan could even draw forth such a response. The only way she’d been able to endure her marriage, the never ending lectures, being locked in her chamber, the spite from her husband’s sisters, had been to build a sturdy wall around her emotions. This young lord, this virgin could not have eased past her defenses already. Then the frown cleared and he shed his robe, looking so much like a rogue pirate with his burnished amber eyes and bronzed skin, that a flood of moisture soaked her pussy.

  “Seen your fill, madam?”

  “Never,” she said promptly. But in truth, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his broad shoulders, the hair dusted chest, sculpted abdomen, and hard thighs. Or the thick, fully erect cock she would soon, God willing, be stuffed full with. “I’m admiring your sun-kissed coloring.”

  “A few ancestors on my mother’s side were Spanish, arranged marriages to gain favor with Katherine of Aragon. Apparently it manifests every few generations…when I go outside, I do tend to tan.”

  “I like it. You look like a conqueror of old. Or a pirate.”

  Ethan laughed as he knelt between her thighs. “Then do allow me to enjoy the spoils.”

  Seconds later, he lashed her right nipple with the tip of his tongue. She moaned, arching her back and nudging her breast closer. A benevolent conqueror, he took the swollen tip in his mouth and sucked it.

  “Yes,” she gasped. “Oh yes. Harder. Now scrape it with your teeth…mmmm…”

  Back and forth he went between her nipples, sucking and licking and tugging them with his teeth while she writhed on the bed, unable to be still. Just when she was ready to beg for more, Ethan trailed kisses down her belly until he reached the top of her mound. Then he brushed the back of one finger against the soaked curls, and the absorption on his face as he tested and stroked nearly made her come instantly.

  “What a pretty cunt you have. So wet and hot.”

  Oh God. How did he know she loved explicit talk in the bedchamber?

  “You should know,” she said reluctantly, “not all women like such, ah, blunt words. Some don’t like any talking at all.”

  He looked up and frowned. “That is a shame. I like to note my observations. And I dislike flowery euphemisms. I suppose I could at least be guided by my lady’s sounds and how wet she is.”

  “Not necessarily. Your future wife may tolerate only the bare minimum of touching and time during marital relations. Or be very nervous. She could require a little oil inside her to ease the way. Otherwise, you’ll hurt her with your cock, especially one of that length and girth.”

  Ethan blushed, but in his eyes she saw pure male satisfaction. “Would it help if I started with a finger?”

  “Yes. A good lover always prepares. A pussy has several pleasure points, but it must be readied carefully. And some ladies do not reach climax with a finger or cock inside them, but instead prefer to have their clitoris stroked or kissed.”

  “I see. In the interests of research, I should like to try both. Do you mind?”

  Madeline’s breathing hitched. “Start with my clitoris. Up the top there, see? Wet your thumb and touch it.”

  A frown of intense concentration furrowing his brow, Ethan parted her nether curls and gen
tly caressed the swollen nub. Soon her hips involuntarily lifted and circled, rubbing her mound against his hand in a desperate attempt for friction to achieve the explosive climax hovering at the edge of her senses. Hell and damnation, she wasn’t going to survive this. And yet Ethan, despite his engorged cock bobbing against his abdomen, remained wholly preoccupied in exploring her pussy. How could he be so bloody calm?

  Finally, finally, he leaned down and stabbed his tongue between the slick folds of her labia, lapping at her wetness as he dragged it up toward her clitoris.

  She groaned, the raw, guttural sound echoing in the bedchamber.

  “Oh no. That won’t do,” he said in that deliciously stern tone again, and as his shoulders forced her thighs wide apart, one big hand reached up to lightly cover her mouth.

  A jolt of pure lust arrowed straight to her throbbing center at the form of restraint, but she was glad of Ethan’s caution as he began to lick and suck her clitoris, while the middle finger of his free hand inched inside her, in and out, in and out, in an increasingly proficient manner as he searched for and found the spot that felt so very, very good.

  Her hips bucking, and fingers tangled in his hair, Madeline ground her pussy against his mouth in a desperate plea for orgasm. Ethan twisted his finger again, and all at once she tumbled over the edge into ecstasy, her scream of pleasure barely muffled by his hand as her whole body shuddered in wave after wave of perfect completion.

  Eventually she returned from the heavens, and stared at him, stunned. “Well, I never.”

  He didn’t smile. Instead, Ethan fisted his cock, slicking the head with its own moisture. “I need to fuck you now,” he growled, the fierce, primitive desire in his gaze almost making her climax again.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Slow to start, then deep and hard. But you can’t come in me.”

  “I won’t,” he promised, even as an expression she couldn’t decipher flashed briefly across his face.

  And then she could only urge him on as he swirled the head of his cock against her soaked folds, fitted himself against her entrance and inched forward.

  Madeline gasped, balancing on a perfect knife edge of pleasure and pain as his thickness stretched her inner walls. He groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily and sending him deep into her pussy in one rough, achingly good surge. Instinctively, she locked her thighs around his waist, her hands gripping his shoulders to hold him close as she rocked against him. It took several awkward thrusts before they moved together as one, but the resulting friction and maximum penetration had her writhing in delight. Soon, far too soon, every muscle tightened in the familiar prelude to climax, and her back arched, her fingernails biting into his flesh as an abandoned cry tore from her throat and her pussy began to pulse wildly around him.

  “Yes. That’s it,” he rasped. “Come all over my cock, sweetheart.”

  The unexpected endearment startled her so much she almost forgot to loosen her hold on him so he could easily withdraw, but just in time he pulled free, covering her mound and lower belly with ropes of pearly seed before collapsing on top of her.

  Unbidden, one hand reached up to stroke the back of his neck, while her mind raced.

  Had a part of her actually wanted him to spill inside her and risk a pregnancy?

  No. She’d never do that to any man, let alone one a long way from contemplating marriage or children. Any child of hers would be created in love, because they both wished to be parents. And yet, she couldn’t dislodge the thought. A little boy with dark hair and amber eyes. Perhaps a red-haired little girl.

  Highly unsettled, Madeline closed her eyes.

  She was in deep trouble.

  Chapter 3

  “Do share another tidbit from Egypt, I need to replenish my well of stimulating conversation before the musicale this afternoon. There I will be subjected to hours of will-sapping discussion on the weather, the furnishings, and the financial worth of every gentleman present before my ears are assaulted by earnest little misses who lack even a tuppence worth of musical ability.”

  “I don’t understand. That sounds exhilarating,” said Ethan, his lips twitching as he glanced across the desk at Madeline. Her disgruntled pout was equal parts amusing and arousing as hell, the kind of expression that urged him to bend her over the desk and administer a sound spanking, followed by a hard fucking.

  As it turned out, one night hadn’t been nearly enough. Unable to stay away, he’d knocked on the connecting door the following evening, and she’d opened it not wearing a stitch. They hadn’t even made it to the bed. His hunger for her seemed insatiable, only urged on by her wanton skill and unabashed eagerness, and they’d now spent an exhausting, wildly pleasurable week together. How he was going to leave her, he had no idea, but Faith, Winifred and the damned vicar couldn’t stay here much longer without inviting murder. As he’d brought them, he felt a certain responsibility to transport them home.

  Why did they have to be so damned bloody irritating? To be fair, Madeline’s mother, brother, and sister-in-law were also appalling, albeit in a different way. A lazier, more spoilt trio he’d never encountered, and the desire to throw them all out on their worthless backsides was only tempered by his respect for Madeline’s station as hostess.

  “Please, Ethan.”

  Jolted from his reverie, he blinked, his cock hardening at the soft entreaty. “You know how much I like it when you beg.”

  Madeline leaned forward on folded arms, her breasts plumping between them. “Then reward me with something interesting.”

  “Something interesting. Hmmm,” he said, flipping through his journal. “Ah, here we go. To prevent conception, a woman blends together honey, finely ground acacia dates, and crocodile excrement, then inserts it inside herself.”

  “No! Ugh. Did it work?”

  “I believe it did. Although I’m uncertain if the concoction was effective because of the ingredients, or erections being unable to withstand the thought of crocodile shit.”

  Madeline giggled. “Good point. However, the Egyptians were miles ahead of everyone else in terms of medicine, weren’t they?”

  How he enjoyed her sharp intellect. “Indeed.”

  “I wish our English physicians were as bold, they seem forever mired in old ways. At least we have left behind the Tudor contraceptive of weasel testicles around the neck.”

  Ethan choked on a cough. “Excuse me?”

  “Apparently they were thought to prevent pregnancy. In fairness, such a sight would certainly lead to violent illness or uncontrollable laughter rather than fucking, so perhaps it was one hundred percent effective and I do our ancestors a disservice.”

  “Rather unfortunate for the weasels though. Imagine being cut down in your prime so your balls could hang around some scrawny squire’s neck in a darkened bedchamber. Not even sporting.”

  Madeline grinned. “I shall say a prayer for their souls. Tell me another tale.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That sounded like an order, madam.”

  A faint blush swept across her cheeks. Seconds later she got to her feet and walked around the desk to stand beside him. “Please.”

  “Lift your gown, and I’ll consider it.”

  Her breathing quickened, and she immediately bent down to hitch up the hem of her peach-striped gown along with her linen petticoat and chemise, until her cunt came into view. “Happy now?”

  Leaning across, he parted her nether curls and stroked her rapidly dampening flesh. “Much better,” he replied, as he thumbed further along in the journal with his free hand.

  “That sketch? The one you just went p-past? Were they…dildos?”

  Ethan paused in surprise and glanced up. Not even a hint of shock on her face, just banked heat. “Yes. Early versions were made of stone or wood. Not overly comfortable, from what I gather, leather is more realistic.”

  “I have one,” Madeline blurted out. “Florentine leather.”

  “Do you now?” he said softly, circling her clitoris until she
whimpered. “Then by all means go and fetch it.”

  Dropping her gown, Madeline dashed to her bedchamber, and returned with a small dark brown object in her outstretched hand. “Here.”

  He frowned. “Rather ungenerous.”

  “I…ah…didn’t purchase it for my pussy,” she whispered.

  Fuck.

  “I see,” he mused, even as his cock strained frantically against his trousers. “And how many times have you wet it with cunt juice and pushed it deep into that rounded backside of yours?”

  Madeline shivered. “I haven’t. Not yet. I only bought it the day before you arrived.”

  “Well then. Let us remedy—”

  A brisk knock at the door made them both jump. He shoved the dildo into a drawer, and Madeline scooted around the other side of the desk. By the gods, the house bloody well better be on fire. “Enter!” he barked.

  Winifred, Faith, and the three Smyths traipsed in.

  “Time for the musicale,” said Faith, glaring at Madeline. “I hope you are ready.”

  “Of course,” said Madeline with a sigh.

  “You’re looking a little flushed, dear,” said Penelope Smyth, Madeline’s sister-in-law. “Can we hope that his lordship’s stern instruction will see an improvement in your behavior?”

  Ethan met Madeline’s gaze. “Lady Upcott does seem to respond well to stern instruction.”

  Her eyes widened, and she quickly looked away. “Shall we go? The sooner we arrive, the sooner we can leave.”

  “Terrible thing to say,” said Mark Smythe, Madeline’s brother. “My lord, are you sure we can’t tempt you to attend? Good food to be had. Best of all, no charge.”

  “Alas, I have ledgers to read.”

  And punch a wall over.

  “Ah,” said the other man, turning up his nose. “Damned creditors, keep turning up and expecting to be paid. They should be horsewhipped for disturbing a gentleman. Well, we’ll leave you alone, then. Come along, ladies.”

  Madeline shot him a regretful look over her shoulder but followed the others from the chamber.