more where that came from, and I do declare it will be my pleasure to 'blister your
arse.'" His tone was deliberately mocking.
"All right then, can you just get on with it?"
"It seems to me you said to just get on with it on our wedding night."
Lucien struck her again, on the other cheek, leaving a handprint almost as vivid
as the first. As he alternated between his two targets, Serenity yelped and howled as
though she were, well, being spanked. Though not particularly proud of what he was
feeling, Lucien rather enjoyed spanking her. But, he justified it by the fact she'd left him,
prick in hand, the day after the wedding, to be a country matron instead of a city wife.
"This, my dear, is what you have to look forward to should you remain in St.
John's Wood. I will see to it you have a spanking at least once a day and I will make it
hurt. Is this what you want, Serenity, to have your arse spanked by my hand and any
other implement I might decide to use?"
Serenity had dissolved into a flood of tears, her bottom as red as a cherry. "Please
stop!"
Lucien did as she so loudly demanded. She remained bent over the sofa, crying.
"Get up," he said.
She did as he said but didn't look him in the eye. Tears stained her cheeks with
silver streaks. He handed her his monogrammed linen handkerchief. "Here, blow your
nose and sit down."
"She did, gingerly. She placed her hands in her lap and her head remained
bowed.
"Do you still want to submit to my discipline, Serenity? Do you want me to
spank you every day?"
"I think so," she said, her voice rattling.
"I must know, before I consent to anything. The only way I will accept you back
in my life is if you submit as you have said you would. I have lived ten years without
you and I can go on for the rest of my days."
She hesitated, but finally she spoke. "I want what those gentlemen spoke about. I
am ready to assume my wifely duties."
"Oh, make no mistake, madam, should I decide to have you be a wife to me, you
will indeed assume your duties—all of them."
He tried to sound menacing, because he didn't want her thinking the path to
marital reconciliation would be an easy one. Since she'd left, she'd sent her constant
complaints through his man of business. She'd complained about everything, including
the condition of the country home, the food, the servants, and the fact he wouldn't
allow her a trip to London until she was ready to return to her marital duties. Each time
he'd given her the choice, she'd promptly refused, and there it was—they'd not seen
each other since the day after their wedding.
"What say you now?"
"I wish to be your wife, Lucien, in every way you wish me to be."
"Well, I must say I am shocked—and somewhat flattered —that after that little
sampling, you still wish to return to my bed."
Serenity looked up and gave him a demur smile. "Yes, I do, completely."
"Fine, then. Let me show you to your chamber. It seems to me it is now time to
fuck you insensible."
Chapter Two
As Serenity followed Lucien through a hidden wall panel in the library and up to
his residence, she grew anxious for what would come next. She hadn't realized how
much she missed the intimacy between lovers.
Lucien's voice pierced through her reverie. "I had access to the third floor from
the two bottom floors blocked, so my residence would remain private. The only way to
enter the third floor is by a staircase accessed through a wall panel found in the library
and on the second floor in a sitting room that's not used."
"Who knows of the wall panels?"
"Just a few people, including the servants, and now you."
"It is very clever," she exclaimed as they entered the hallway on the upper floor.
"Your rooms are this way."
He showed her to what would be the suite of rooms adjoining his own. "I will
have these prepared in the morning. For tonight, you will stay in a guest room down
the hall."
"This is beautiful, Lucien. You have done quite well for yourself."
"Yes, I suppose I have. Tomorrow I shall give you a tour of the residence and the
club." He grabbed her hand and nearly dragged her through the connecting door to his
overlarge, very masculine bedchamber. "I believe we have some unfinished business to
take care of, do we not?"
Serenity's mind had been assaulted since her surreptitious entrée into the
mansion. She'd entered through the kitchen and wended her way to the entrance hall.
When the elderly butler had safely dozed off, she entered the library, the only room
with massive closed double doors, and waited for Lucien to enter. She'd heard myriad
sounds, howls, moans, grunts and laughter, along with beautiful chamber music. Her
imagination had run amok with thoughts of what could possibly be behind those
sounds.
Her loins had reacted with moisture and clenching the likes of which she'd rarely
experienced. Her curiosity was at its peak, especially about her husband.
He'd changed since she'd last seen him. His coal black hair was now liberally
dosed with silver, something she found surprisingly appealing. She'd always loved the
idea he was ten years older.
"Our age difference makes me feel very safe,"
she'd told him
when they courted.
She remembered he was handsome, so much so she constantly questioned his
willingness to marry her. She was plain in those days, and dressed more like a country
mouse than a gentle born lady. In the intervening years, she'd immersed herself in
country society, and she felt she'd blossomed.
His bedchamber smelled of bergamot and shaving soap with telltale signs of
leather and beeswax. It was enormous, with a fitting four-poster bed on a dais, along
the longest wall.
"Oh, Lucien, this is beautiful."
"You can thank Campion, here, if you like it. He saw to everything. Campion, old
man, this is my wife, Serenity."
"Mrs. Damrill, I am pleased to make your acquaintance." The bewigged older
man bowed appropriately, lifting an eyebrow at his master.
"Thank you, Mr. Campion. It's nice to meet you, as well."
"You may retire, Campion."
"As you wish, sir. Madam." Campion sketched another jaunty bow and left
through the dressing room door, leaving husband and wife alone with a large,
imposing bed in their midst.
"Mr. Campion did not seem surprised you would bring a woman up here," she
stated matter-of-factly.
Lucien smiled with amusement. "He's just 'Campion', and he most certainly was
surprised. I can't believe you didn't notice. Why he was positively flabbergasted. I have
never brought anyone up here before." He grinned playfully.
"Really? You've allowed no one, not even your mistresses?"
"My
mistresses
have never come here at all. What do you take me for, a complete
rogue?"
"I take you for a man who has been shamefully neglected by the woman charged
with his care."
"Yes, well, I would agree with that assessment, and I do believe you should start
making it up to me this very moment. Why don't you remove your clothing and then
you can remove mine as well."
Lucien crossed the room and sat in a comfortable red and gold damask-covered
chair. After removing his black kid evening shoes and white stockings, he crossed his
long, elegant legs, one over the other, and simply watched as Serenity struggled with
her clothing.
"You might at least help," she said, but was completely ignored.
She wriggled and squirmed, thinking she wasn't showing her innate elegance
and grace for this, her first sexual encounter with her husband since their wedding
night.
What was I thinking when I left?
She finally slipped the dress down over her shoulders and into a puddle at her
feet. Had he always been so handsome? Had he always been so tall?
What will he look
like naked?
When she stood in front of him, wearing only her diaphanous chemise, he stood
up. He'd had to bite back laughter as she wormed her way out of her clothing,
something he'd wager she'd never had to do for herself.
She's changed, he thought pleasantly. She'd always been so plain, so
unexceptional. But now, she was . . . well . . . pretty. Certainly no raving beauty, but
with her stylish hair and clothing, and a certain graceful quality she'd not heretofore
possessed, she was indeed quite attractive. Her curves were more womanly now, and
she smelled of lavender and something vaguely citrusy. Through the silk, he saw her
dusky, aroused nipples. Lord, he could not wait to fill his hands with her breasts.
He stepped forward and walked around her, skimming her rounded shoulders,
running the backs of his fingers down one arm. He lingered behind her, plucking
emerald hairpins and casually dropping them to the floor. He leaned in to kiss the back
of her neck, brushing her tumbled hair aside. The soft silk of her chemise shifted under
his touch as he explored her spine and firmly cupped her buttocks.
"I like a firm bottom, Serenity." He flicked a swat, startling her. "Do you like it
when I touch you here?"
"Yes," she muttered as his fingers worked her chemise into the crease between
her cheeks.
"That's very good, because I do too."
He untied one ribbon at her shoulder and continued walking around her. She
had her eyes closed. He could hear a hitch in her breathing every time his fingers
caressed her skin.
Good, be on guard; be leery.
"Open your eyes and watch as I suckle your
breast. Have you ever had your breast suckled, my dear?"
"Oh, yes," she confessed, but he didn't pursue it.
"Do you like it?" He circled his tongue around her distended nipple.
Her head lolled back on her shoulders and he stopped sucking.
"Open your eyes." He plucked the other ribbon and the pink silk floated to the
floor. Serenity stood before him unashamedly naked, her brown curly hair all but
shielding her small, though adequate, breasts from his view. She opened her silver-blue
eyes. He dipped his hand into her feminine curls and discovered the truth; she was
dripping with desire.
"What is this, my dear? Are you anxious for our coupling?"
Her voice creaked with an unintelligible answer.
"Tell me what you want, Serenity."
"I want you," she admitted.
"How do you want me? I seem to recall a time when you wanted nothing to do
with my 'nasty male activities'. What has changed? I dare say the activities may have
gotten nastier."
"I was young then. I have learned . . . ."
"Ah, ha, I believe you have given yourself away more than once since our happy
reunion. Tell me what you want, plainly, so I can understand."
"To begin with, I want to see you."
"Well here I am." He flung his arms out at his sides.
"No, I want to see you n-n—"
"Naked. Is that what you are trying to say, my little shy wife?"
"Yes, Lucien, I want to see you naked."
"Well, then, please, do the honors."
He put himself into her shaking hands. She removed his black tailcoat and silverembroidered waistcoat, folding them and placing them over the back of a chair. His
cravat and shirt came next. Her breath hitched perceptibly when she reached for the
buttons on the placard of his black trousers. She kept her gaze fixed upon his eyes as
her tiny fingers slipped each button from its mooring until she released the last one.
With her thumbs, she slid the exquisitely tailored linen down over his slim hips and
hard, muscled thighs, past his knees and to the floor, not taking her eyes off the pulsing
bulge beneath his small clothes.
"These must go." She untied them and slid them to his hips, revealing his cock in
all its aroused glory.
"You have never seen me. You did not avail yourself of the privilege as we made
love in the dark on our wedding night."
"It is evident it was my loss."
Being the man he was, Lucien fairly gloated. He was quite proud of his
appendage, as though he'd designed it himself. He grabbed it and stroked it
provocatively.
Serenity arched a chestnut eyebrow and smiled, but said nothing. She raised a
hand and then shied away.
"Go ahead; touch me."
She touched the bulbous head and then wrapped her delicate fingers around
him. Slowly, her hand slid down the blue-veined shaft and up again. She dallied at the
crown, trailing her fingernail around the flared ridge. Lucien hissed, his knees
threatening to turn to water, but he managed to hold his ground. Silvery fluid dripped
from the tiny eye, attracting her attention.
"What is this?" she asked flirtatiously as she ran her thumb through it.
"It lets you know I am ready to fuck you insensible."
She chuckled. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
He was like any man faced with a naked woman. He wanted to fuck her, and it
really didn't matter who or what she was. A lady having a notch and being willing were
the only two criteria by which most men conducted their lives.
A stiff cock has no
conscience.
He crawled predatorily onto the bed after her. He straddled her legs as she lay
propped upon the crisp white pillows. He lowered his head and took her nipple in his