Three. Noelle MackЧитать онлайн книгу.
know that I do not make promises.”
“I was only going to ask that you wear my gift a little longer. Those damned pearls cost me a small fortune.”
“Well,” she said lightly, “if it means that much to you, then I will wear them in my bath. And to bed. And to breakfast. And all through the day until I see you again.”
“Thank you.” He took the pearls from the box and clasped them once more about her throat, fumbling a little. “Then I know you will be thinking of me.”
Fiona raised an elegant eyebrow. “Of course.”
“Is that so much to ask? I love you.”
She shook her head. “You shouldn’t. I am a thoroughly wicked woman, according to your dear mama, the countess. She said as much to me at Almack’s when she thought no one was listening.”
“Oh, dear,” Thomas said. “I expect she thinks I ought to spend more time at home and sire a few grandchildren. But my wife is not likely to produce any that look like me.”
Fiona stroked his hair. “Why did you marry Anne? She is far from beautiful and never faithful.”
Thomas shrugged. “Her dowry. Her parents let it be known that a considerable sum would be awarded to the suitablest gentleman of pure pedigree, as they put it, so that their darling daughter could marry up. They hoped to rub elbows with the gentry themselves.”
“How romantic,” Fiona said dryly.
“Isn’t it?” He took her by the waist and twirled her around. “I much prefer your company, my naughty angel.”
“Did you ever love her?”
“Certainly not. And as far as the marriage, I had very little choice in the matter. My forebears had a bad habit of burning through money. Gambling, extravagant living, mistresses—” he chucked Fiona under the chin—“that sort of thing.”
“I see,” she said. “Then you ought not to give me trinkets, Thomas.”
“Pshaw. You deserve those pearls. As I was saying, I married Anne because my family’s London house costs the deuce to keep up and Mama has two in the country to maintain as well. In fact, the roof at Castleward has sprung a number of leaks this very spring and I must—”
She shot him an impatient look. “You must place pots and pans in strategic places upon the floor, Thomas. Return home, my lord. You have done what you came to do, and I pronounce myself well satisfied.”
Her lover grinned and fastened his breeches, looking about for his boots.
“Over there.” Fiona pointed. The boots had been hastily pulled off and flung into a corner. He could have done the honors with them on and his breeches partway down, like any other man, she supposed. But Thomas preferred to be quite naked, though he usually insisted that she keep on some of her clothes.
Tonight he had lifted her black velvet gown up to her waist and yanked down her lace-trimmed drawers a second later, revealing her bottom, which he had stroked tenderly—at first. He’d kneeled to kiss both soft cheeks all over, spreading them so he could see everything, then stood up to administer tingling slaps from his strong hands, keeping her bent over the bed, quite unable to do anything but enjoy herself until he thrust deeply inside her.
She was positively glowing from his attentions to that part of her body. And her nipples were still tight and hard. Once he had turned her round and got rid of her drawers, he had freed her breasts from her lowcut gown and let them bounce in his hands while he rammed his thick cock, well roped with veins and slick, into her again and again. He had tugged on her erect nipples for good measure, in an irregular rhythm that excited her into a second climax soon after her first.
Still, the gown had ripped under the sleeve. Thomas was nothing if not virile, but his preferred mode of lovemaking was hell on clothes.
He set about retrieving the rest of his own attire rather quickly, as married men were wont to do, Fiona thought to herself. But he dressed carelessly, having no need to put on a show of propriety for his straying wife. He left his shirt un-tucked and went to the window to look out—a precaution, Fiona supposed, to avoid an angry rival or the occasional love-struck miss who might follow him about.
The moonlight silvered the window on the opposite side of the narrow street…and then a cloud passed over the moon and the glass darkened. Thomas’s eyes widened. “Fiona, come here. I can see quite clearly into the house across the street. I believe that is a bedroom…and your neighbor is beautiful. Who is she?”
Fiona crossed the room to stand near him and looked out. “I don’t know. She is visiting. The owners of the house are away.”
“Is she all alone then?”
Fiona shrugged, a little annoyed by his interest. “I suppose so. I have never talked to her, Thomas.”
He laughed softly. “Then it will not seem so wrong to spy on a perfect stranger.”
“Hmm. I would rather not argue that point. But if you insist….”
Moving closer, they looked out the window together and Thomas put his arms around Fiona’s waist as the woman in the house opposite began to disrobe. She was tall, even when she kicked off her shoes, with a willowy figure and firm breasts. The candelabra she had set by the bed illumined her body but kept her face mostly in shadow.
The night was warm and she sprawled on the bed, leaving the candles burning. She stretched, luxuriating in her nakedness, and opened her legs to reveal an intimate glimpse of female flesh that shone wetly in the candlelight. Then the woman slid her hands down over her belly, sinking several fingers into the dark hair between her legs.
“Ah,” Thomas murmured. “I hope that she doesn’t stop.”
She seemed restless, twisting her hips this way and that, keeping her fingers in her cunny.
“She is imagining a lover,” Fiona murmured back.
They watched the woman withdraw her hands and get up on all fours, rearranging the bed pillows into a high mound. She flung herself into them face down, lifting up her hips to tuck a soft little bolster covered in pale velvet between her upper thighs. This she began to squeeze in a regular rhythm, keeping it clasped between her thighs. Her hips thrust down into the pillows, going faster and faster.
The shadows of the candlelight flickered upon the walls of the room they viewed. Thomas gasped. The woman moved with sensual abandon, relishing her solitary pleasure, quite unaware that she was being watched.
Fiona stirred in Thomas’s arms. Hugely erect, he drew her tightly against his body as he riveted his eyes upon the darkened window across the street.
What man would not be aroused, Fiona thought with an inward smile, watching a round, womanly arse like that tighten and relax…tighten and relax…as its possessor enjoyed a private session of frottage, using soft pillows to rub and pump herself to a strong climax. One did not always need a man.
But luckily Fiona had a lover at hand to ease her own restless desire. Shamelessly asking for his attention, she lifted her skirts once more and pushed her bare bottom against the cock that strained against the confinement of Thomas’s breeches.
He reached around to grab her cunny with one strong hand. “Ah, good girl. Right where I want you, hot and ready for me.”
Fiona laughed softly. “Yes. Always.”
“Show me,” he whispered. “Play with your nipples while I penetrate you with your dress up. You know I love to see your arse bared for me. And bare your breasts too. Now.”
She obliged, pulling out one creamy breast and then the other, tugging at her own nipples, while Thomas glanced down over her shoulder to see and then returned his gaze at the other woman, still thrusting sensually against the mound of pillows.
Then the woman reared up, reached between her legs and pulled