The Best Marquess by Nicola Davidson

Chapter 12

Finn woke up with a start, and groaned in pain.

Shit.

After promising Pippa he would finish perusing the pile of documents then join her in bed, he’d fallen asleep at his desk. Now he was chilled to the bone, his arms were half-numb from sleeping on them, there was a quill stuck to his forehead, and his fingertips were stained black from spilled ink.

He was, as those in his life often informed him, messy.

Gingerly standing and wincing with each movement, Finn stumbled over to the library fireplace and stoked it to warm the room. Then he lit several candles; fully illuminated the space was bad enough, but in the dim light of dawn it had a sinister air, like the one haunted room in a dilapidated manor. Indeed, redecorating this monstrosity was near top of his list of tasks. Perhaps sunshine-yellow or a nice dusky pink, the same shade as Pippa’s nipples. That would be pleasant, and it would ensure his father truly did roll over in his tomb.

Finn sniffed at the air and the odor of perspiration made his nose wrinkle. He also needed a bath quite desperately.

Ambling into the hallway, about the only speed his cramped limbs would permit, he came across two footmen on their way to the kitchens for breakfast, and ordered the copper tub sent up to his bedchamber. At this rate, the hot water would just about be waiting for him.

When he finally made it up the stairs, Finn pushed open the door as quietly as possible, and slipped inside. Only to find Pippa sitting up in bed and reading by candlelight.

“Good morning,” he said. “Which book?”

She held it up, an unusually guilty expression on her face. “The Highland Marauder.”

“A reread then. Any chapter in particular?”

“Just a general review,” she replied, not meeting his gaze as she slid in a leather bookmark and set the novel down on the side table.

“Liar.”

His wife’s cheeks flushed scarlet, approximately the color of the gown she’d worn to their engagement announcement. “Am not.”

“Did you make yourself come, Pippet?”

“Is this the sated, relaxed face of a woman who had just had an orgasm?” she snapped, moving restlessly on the mattress.

Inwardly smiling, Finn strolled closer, but didn’t touch her. Instead, he picked up the novel and opened it to the bookmarked page. Oh. One of his favorite scenes, where the laird bound the Frenchwoman to a special padded table, blindfolded her, brought her to the edge of orgasm with his mouth, then penetrated her arse with a dildo. How many times had he read this, cock in hand, and imagined himself as the laird and Pippa as the Frenchwoman?

Far too many to count.

“So, this is the scene that makes your sweet pussy wet? An interlude with pleasure toys? How fortunate you wed a man with a business that crafts them.”

Her indrawn breath echoed in the room. “Are you saying we could go to Golden Square and try some?”

“That depends…” his voice trailed off at a brisk knock, and shortly afterward two footmen walked in carrying the copper tub, followed by several maids carrying full buckets of steaming hot water. They set it up in the usual place behind an embroidered bathing screen, filled the tub, then left the chamber.

“Depends on what?” said Pippa huskily.

“On the quality of the bath you are about to give me. I should add, today is going to be nothing but amusement. No talk of grandmothers, cretin lords and politicians, or newly inherited titles. With that in mind, let me tell you of my newest Bliss creation. It is a wicked little toy that ties around the waist and fills pussy and arse at the same time. I wanted to see if you could walk in it.”

She quivered. “Please let me try that. And, er…I’ve always wanted to know what clamps feel like.”

“Nipple clamps?” Finn asked, as if the business sold another kind. “It would have to be an exceptional bath.”

“I’m willing to try my very best. I shall have to, judging by the feather imprint on your forehead, the ink stains on your fingers, and that tuft of hair that is poking up like a quail,” Pippa replied pertly, her nightgown swirling around her ankles as she got out of bed.

He pulled her close, grinding his hardening cock against her pussy. “That saucy tongue again, lady wife. Perhaps you might consider putting it to a different use.”

She whimpered, tilting her hips so he rubbed directly against her clitoris. “Like…kissing your cock? Taking it in my mouth?”

Finn gulped, desperately willing himself not to come and ruin his trousers forever. She was just so warm and sleep-soft, and if he tugged the ribbon of her nightgown and pushed open the bodice, he would see the pretty pink nipples currently tenting the fabric. But better than that, his wife was just so eager and curious and blunt about sexual matters. He loved the way he could use the filthiest words in front of her, then hear them in return.

“Yes. But you’ll need to be my valet again.”

“It would be a singular honor, my lord husband.”

As soon as he was naked, Finn sank into the hot bath with a heartfelt groan. Sleeping at one’s desk was foolish in the extreme. Then Pippa filled a porcelain jug with water and poured it over his chest, before washing him with a bar of herbal soap and a washcloth.

This, on the other hand, was quite, quite excellent.

“I think,” he said lazily, “you need to open your bodice so I can see those perfect breasts of yours.”

“Really? Why is that?” she enquired, picking up a nail brush and scrubbing at his ink-stained fingers.

“How else am I to judge which size clamps to use on your nipples?”

Pippa’s lips twitched, but when she’d finished cleaning his hand, she loosened the ribbons and pushed aside the bodice of both her nightgown and chemise, teasing him with glimpses of her taut pink nipples. Then she moved onto washing his back, leaning over him, and Finn couldn’t resist circling both peaks with a wet finger before giving each a brief pinch.

His wife shivered, her breath catching. “You’d better be taking measurements.”

“I’m not sure. The bath is only half complete. I may be sparkling clean, but I still require drying.”

She helped him to his feet, pausing while the water sluiced from his body, then he stepped out of the bath so she could dry him with a linen towel. Pippa first wiped her spectacles free of the fine mist that covered the lenses, but soon the rough material rasped against the backs of his calves and thighs. Finn’s cock rose, throbbing with need. He didn’t say a word, just lifted his arms and turned slightly so Pippa could dry every inch of him. She was thorough, but gentle as she tended to his cock last of all.

“What must I do now?” she asked, her blue eyes glittering with excitement.

Finn led her back to the bed, and perched upon the edge, briefly caressing her cheek. “Kneel down.”

Pippa sank to her knees in front of him, peering at his length over her spectacles with intense concentration, then she carefully took his cock in hand. Already the thick shaft was stone-hard, the head swollen and darker in color, and damp with drops of pearly moisture.

Extending her tongue, she lapped at the head. “Hmmm,” she said, frowning. “Another thing nobody tells you, the taste of seed is…just as earthy as the scent. A bit salty even. I’m not sure if I like it or not. Perhaps I should sample some more to help me make up my mind.”

Finn groaned at the exquisite sensation, his fingers tangling in her hair as she dragged her tongue around the head and up the length of him, all the way to the coarse hair at his groin. Then she stroked his heavy balls with just her fingertip, and he groaned again. “Pippet.”

Pippa paused. “You know,” she said seriously. “It’s rather interesting that I am kneeling, required to kiss my husband’s cock to gain a reward…and yet I feel so powerful right now. Like the Frenchwoman. She obeyed the laird, but never lost herself, only gained pleasure.”

“That is how it should be.”

“Mmmm,” she replied, holding his gaze as she took the head of his cock in her mouth and lightly sucked.

Christ.

Not only did it feel incredible, it was the most carnal thing he’d ever seen. His wife in her spectacles, modest nightgown gaping open to expose her hard nipples, struggling to take his engorged cock deeper in her mouth. But she kept trying, all while fluttering her tongue on the underside just like their favorite Frenchwoman did when pleasuring her laird.

Finn swore, clutching her shoulders. “I’m going to come. Pippa…”

But instead of pulling away, his wife sucked greedily, one hand squeezing his length and the other cupping his balls. His eyes crossed in ecstasy, his fists clenched, and with a low roar he came in her mouth, spurting his seed down her throat.

Licking her lips, Pippa sat back on her heels. “Well?”

“You are a goddess,” he murmured, as his brain floated away. “Also, romance novels are the greatest invention in history.”

“I quite agree. Now, my laird, I’m going to have a bath, then after breakfast you’ll be escorting me to Golden Square for a session of nipple clamps and double dildo, yes?”

Finn lay back on the bed and pulled the quilt over his body, a foolish grin near splitting his face.

“Aye, madame.”

“You mustn’t moan so loudly, Pippet. The driver will hear you.”

At Finn’s teasing words, she bit her lip to halt a wail of need. The carriage curtains were open; no doubt everyone in London could see her sitting in his lap, thighs spread wide, her black gown folded up to her waist while his fingers caressed her pussy. But he wouldn’t let her come, wanting to save her orgasms for his inventing room at Golden Square. A quarter hour ago, that had appeared a fair and reasonable plan. Now…not so much.

The only saving grace was the short length of the journey. Any distance longer than a mile and she might have lost her mind completely after being so ruthlessly and expertly prepared to receive the pleasure toys. Finn was a romance novel hero come to life. Well, when he wasn’t teasing her. While her fingers positively itched to delve between her thighs, the previous few times she’d tried to make herself come, release had remained elusive. It seemed her foolish, contrary body now sniffed at self-love, wanting the lusty touch of another.

No, not another. Just Finn. Her husband.

He’d always been important. However now, apparently, she needed him in ways other than friendship, which was quite an intellectual leap. Her wariness remained when it came to sentiment, as had been obvious from her shamefully lukewarm response to his story about the handkerchief. But was it even possible to soften when you had been everyone else’s rock your entire life and had walls a mile thick around your heart?

The carriage hit a small rut on the road, jolting her back to the present and making her cry out as his fingers penetrated her channel half an inch. “Finn…if I don’t come soon…”

He kissed her neck. “Nearly there. Just imagine how good it will feel to have your pussy and arse stuffed full.”

Pippa took several deep breaths, trying to think of anything other than orgasms. Which was nigh-on impossible. The delights of their wedding night felt like they had happened about a century ago; to have that kind of feast and then a famine of even three days was unacceptable. Not to mention, anyone who took a huge cock in their mouth and swallowed seed deserved to scream long and hard.

After approximately one thousand years, the carriage finally pulled up next to the tiny mews behind a pretty townhouse. She couldn’t wait to see inside, especially the room where her husband created pleasure toys.

Finn unfolded her gown, smoothed it, and helped her stand; a welcome gesture for her unsteady legs. Then a footman opened the door and lowered the step, and she alighted onto the footpath.

When he joined her, Pippa turned to Finn and smiled brightly. “To the inventing room!”

He studied her, his lips curving. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a tour of the premises first? Perhaps some tea and cakes?”

“Do not toy with me, my lord.”

His smirk widened. “Do not? I was under the impression you wanted toys.”

Pippa smacked his shoulder. “It is neither the time nor the place for jests. Your wife needs orgasms.”

“Very well,” said Finn, offering his arm. They walked through the gate and shut it firmly behind them, then continued on up the short path to the back door. A maid opened it and bobbed a curtsy.

“Good morning, my lord. Ma’am. Are you here to visit Miss Abby?”

Unaccountably, Finn tensed. “Is she here? I thought Abby usually went visiting at this time.”

The maid shook her head. “She is next door, visiting Miss Bridget. They often take tea together. Would you like me to go and fetch her?”

“No! Ah…no, thank you. I shall see her next time. My wife and I are going to the inventing room and are not to be disturbed.”

“Yes, my lord.”

As they carried on down the narrow hallway, Pippa sent Finn a curious glance. “Who is Abby?”

“An employee here,” he replied. “The one I told you about, with the little girl. I’m overprotective of her privacy; in the past she has been treated so badly by those around her. But don’t think about her, think about my inventing room. Are you ready to see it?”

“I have been ready to see it for some time,” Pippa replied archly as they walked down the wooden stairs to the cellar.

She’d expected the space to be rather dark and confined, but it was surprisingly spacious with four large rectangular windows near the ceiling that looked out into Golden Square, and plenty of candlesticks to be lit. As soon as she entered the inventing room, the chaotic layout and eclectic collection of furniture, plus piles of boxes, documents, and random items, positively bellowed that the space belonged to Finn. Yet knowing that it was exclusively his made what she was about to try even easier. No one would disturb them down here. She could be as wicked as she wished.

One velvet tray caught her eye, and she wandered over to peruse five rows of different-sized nipple clamps. Some were studded with pearls, others with paste gems, but Pippa particularly approved of the clamps set with diamonds. If you were going to clamp, clamp in style. Although in saying that, the creamy pearl studded ones had a certain air of innocence that seemed appropriate for a beginner. And they looked the right size.

“Those ones,” said Pippa. “Pearls, if you please.”

“Good choice. Now, let’s get you out of this hideous mourning gown,” said Finn. “If you stay under the windows, no one can see anything from the street. I mean, they’d have to stoop anyway. And peer through the iron banister. So, no danger of being observed.”

When she was ready, Finn cupped her breasts, rubbing his thumbs across her nipples then pinching them in preparation. Pure excitement coiled in her stomach, and she arched her back, wanting to feel the accessory that she’d only ever read about.

“Do it,” Pippa whispered.

Slowly, carefully, Finn affixed the first clamp to her left nipple. The bite of pain took her breath away and she silently debated ripping it off. But eventually it settled to a dull, throbbing ache, a sensation nearly mirrored between her legs, and she moaned.

“You like that? Not too much?”

“Do the other one.”

For some unknown reason the second clamp hurt more than the first, forcing her to breathe deeply while she waited for it to ease. All the while her clitoris pulsed unmercifully, and she clasped her hands together lest she ruin the game and touch herself.

“How is that, Pippet?” asked Finn, watching her intently. In truth, knowing he cared so much about her comfort and pleasure only made her need grow hotter and brighter.

“G-good,” she managed. “May I have the other toy now?”

“I need to prepare you with some oil first. Go and kneel on the edge of my chair and hold onto the back for support.”

Wickedness. Pure wickedness.

Here she was, a fledgling marchioness kneeling naked on a padded armchair in a cellar, with pearl-studded clamps pinching her nipples and her husband gently, so, so gently, pushing one oil-slick finger into her back entrance.

Making her tremble. Making her burn.

And she loved it.

“Deeper, Finn,” she said throatily. “I want more.”

A growl rumbled in his chest. “I’ll give you what you need.”

Pippa uttered a soft cry when he added a second finger to her tight hole, the stretch and thrust dancing on that heady line between pleasure and pain. But when his other hand slid over her hip to cup her mound, she began to pant, her hips circling in a desperate effort to get direct pressure on her clitoris. One touch. Just one, and she would explode in a violent starburst of an orgasm. “Please,” she begged. “Please let me come.”

Finn took his hands away and she nearly wept at the loss. However, he then walked over to a bench, picked up a hand-sized object, then returned to show her. “I think you’re ready for the toy. Here is my latest pride and joy.”

Her jaw dropped. Two leather dildos, one about five inches long and the width of three fingers, the other about half the size, were each attached to a slender rectangle of polished wood by a metal ring. A long satin ribbon dangled from underneath the contraption, ready to tie around her waist. “Good lord.”

“I’m going to put them inside you now, then I’ll help you stand. Come as many times as you like. No one can hear you down here.”

“Hurry. Please hurry.”

At the strange yet sinfully delicious feel of cool, firm leather probing her wet pussy, Pippa sucked in a harsh breath. But Finn was relentless in his advance and her greedy channel sucked the first dildo inside. Then the second one penetrated her back entrance, and when she jerked and writhed, unable to decide whether to welcome the invader or reject it, the metal rings tinkled merrily. Last of all, Finn grasped the ribbon and tied it tightly, the action pushing both dildos even deeper.

She cried out. So close…

“Stand up, my lady.”

Quivering, gripping Finn’s hand for support, Pippa obeyed. But as soon as she straightened, the unyielding dildos moved and rubbed together inside her, and she screamed in wild abandon as release hit with the force of a spring tide.

Oh God.

Romance novels had officially moved to second on her list of the greatest inventions in history. Nothing could possibly compare to this toy.

It was, quite simply, pleasure perfection.

Two things were equally true: making his wife come so hard she saw stars was his favorite pastime; and giving up Bliss to concentrate solely on his title responsibilities was an unacceptable future path. Allowing his creativity free rein in such a unique and interesting arena was too enjoyable. Too necessary.

Sternly ignoring his aching cock, Finn curved a supporting arm around Pippa’s waist, before carefully removing the nipple clamps. She jerked, then whimpered as he gently rubbed the swollen, wine-colored peaks.

“So, lady wife,” he said curiously. “Any comments on the clamps? Feel free to be blunt; your honest opinion is important to me.”

Pippa peered up at him with dazed eyes, her spectacles askew, so he adjusted them then tucked a stray tendril of blond hair behind her ear.

“I love them,” she said, a smile lighting up her face. “That flash of pain at the start is a shock to the senses, but the ache afterward is delicious. I also love that you decorate them in different ways. Diamonds for the discerning. Pearls for an air of innocence. Paste gems for fun. Different sized clamps are a good idea but you also need different strengths, ones that offer the full experience from a light kiss to a harsh bite. I also wonder if there might be customers who will wear them under clothing. If so, we’ll need some plain gold or silver so they don’t show.”

Finn nodded thoughtfully. “All excellent points. And the double dildo? How did you find that?”

“If it could kiss and cuddle and bring me cakes, I would probably marry it.”

Laughter rumbled in his chest as he unfastened the ribbon around her waist and carefully tugged the dildos from her pussy and arse, before setting it aside to be washed. “Adequate then?”

Pippa made a sound of pure contentment. “Quite satisfactory. I think I can still feel a pulsing. That leather is lovely; firm and cool but still vaguely realistic. And the way the two dildos rubbed together inside me…good lord. That was splendid. Those gold rings allow just enough movement to get comfortable, which will be helpful with different body shapes and sizes.”

“Right. Any improvements needed?”

Her fingers tangled in his cravat. “The only thing that concerns me is the ribbon. I don’t think it will be sturdy enough for regular and enthusiastic use. Have you thought about a cord? Perhaps a thin leather strap that fastens as a belt?”

I love you.

Finn took a deep breath, actually biting his lip so he didn’t blurt the words. Instead, he moved over to the chair that she had knelt on and sat on it, then pulled her into his lap. She burrowed against him, her face in the curve where his shoulder met his neck, and yet again he marveled at the goddess who was his wife. That Pippa tolerated him having a pleasure toy business was momentous enough, but that she was interested in it, that she’d eagerly agreed to try out items and then offer practical, helpful suggestions was more than he could have dreamed of. She was in all ways, perfection.

“Whatever would I do without you, Pippet?” Finn said, kissing her forehead before stroking her hair until she practically purred.

“I’d say you’d have a lot more customers demanding their money back for frayed ribbons,” she replied, wriggling a little.

“Not comfortable?”

Pippa slid one arm around his neck and leaned back. “I’m being distracted by a rogue iron bar.”

“Just ignore it. I know you must be sore.”

“Not too sore for some gentle play. However, before we proceed, I must lodge a complaint about our wedding night. It has been nagging at me.”

Finn hesitated, for she looked so serious. “Tell me.”

“I was going to say something the following day when we had breakfast, but then, well, you know. In bed…while it was wonderful, you did something that I did not like. No, that’s not quite right. An act I did not understand. You spilled on my belly. I thought…I thought you would want an heir? I mean, I’m aware that I am no Lilian in the realm of maternal feeling, but still…”

As her voice trailed off, Finn blinked in surprise. Stoic, no-nonsense Pippa had been hurt by that. But as she’d expressed no pressing desire to become pregnant, especially after witnessing a birth firsthand with her sister, he’d thought to spare her something she wasn’t ready for.

That’s the problem, twit. Any romance novel will tell you nothing good comes from people just up and making assumptions about their lover. That is how Great Misunderstandings occur.

“I think you will be a superb mother,” he said, holding her tighter. “Fierce as a lioness. Children will feel so safe with you. So cared for. That they could whisper any secret in your ear and know it will be kept.”

Pippa’s cheeks went pink. “Well, yes. I sense a but in there, though.”

“There is plenty of time. You are only twenty. I’m twenty-four. Hand on heart, Pippet, the problem is me. I’m not sure I’m ready to be a father. I have…I don’t know, much to muddle though in my head. To discard the poison from my father first. And I have so much to learn in being a marquess and a husband. Plus, there is Bliss. I’m still not sure how I’m going to balance what I love with what I must do. Gah. Does any of that make sense, or do I just sound as foolish as a young buck complimenting a tree trunk on its fine ankles after ten bottles of brandy?”

“All of that is quite logical,” she said firmly. “And I don’t feel the need to hurry into a birthing chamber yet. It will take a while for the memory of Lilian’s travails to fade…between the blood and the sounds that I heard. But I find…I do not like decisions being made on my behalf.”

“Guilty, your honor. Allow me to humbly beg forgiveness and atone.”

“There is something else,” she said, glancing away from him. “I’ve always felt fairly strongly about this, purely in general terms. But now that we are wed, it has become something that is ironclad and cast in stone. Especially after seeing you with all those visitors in the drawing room. I know it is unfashionable and that you are exceedingly popular…but, ah…I would not be good at sharing. In fact, I believe I would be a tremendous failure and turn into an unhinged shrew.”

A tempest of elation and caution swirled together inside him. His wife didn’t want him to have a mistress? Was that just a matter of personal pride, or her way of expressing deeper feelings for him? He well knew the journey to Pippa’s heart would involve several impossible quests, a maze, probably a minotaur, and carving through hewn rock with a wooden spoon. But if she ever loved him back, it would all be worth it.

“You don’t have to share,” said Finn, lifting her chin for a kiss. “As it happens, I have a particular preference for spectacle-wearing Pippets.”

“Good,” she replied, her gaze warm as her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his trouser flap then freed his cock.

Soon they were both moaning as she braced her feet on the floor and lowered herself onto his thick length. While the slick, hot welcome of her pussy felt indescribable, there was no haste. No desperate, greedy desire for release as soon as possible. This was different. Tender. Two people with their arms wrapped around each other, rocking and circling as though they had all the time in the world.

And they did.

Bending his head, Finn licked her nipple, pausing when she cried out. “Too sensitive?”

“No,” she breathed, cupping her small breast and offering it to him. “Do that again.”

Finn couldn’t help a rougher thrust as he repeatedly lashed her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Yet Pippa didn’t flinch, instead her inner walls fluttered around his cock and she started grinding herself against him, angling her hips so her clitoris rubbed directly against his groin. He loved how unashamed she was in her need for pleasure.

But now he could feel that restlessness growing, that building storm before the explosion of release. Finn thrust his cock deep into Pippa’s soaked pussy, and the scent of her, the heat, the sounds of her gasps and whimpers was a trident of pleasure that could no longer be denied. He gripped her hips, fucking her harder, and soon Pippa’s head fell back, her fingernails clawing the fabric of his jacket as she came with a loud scream.

Her orgasm hurled him over the edge, and as he withdrew then mindlessly spurted his release across her lower belly, three hoarse words tore from his throat. “I love you.”

Shit. Shit!

Finn struggled for breath, waiting for Pippa to jerk away or go rigid in his arms. But she didn’t, only rested her forehead on his shoulder as her own ragged breathing gradually eased.

She hadn’t heard him. Thank God.

The last thing he wanted to do was ruin what they were building together. He just had to control himself, to not submerge his wife in emotional declarations that she would only retreat from. Pippa cared for him. He knew that. That she might never surrender her fully-armored heart and declare love in return was the risk he’d taken.

Only time would reveal if the gamble of his life would pay off.