Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

T he next ten days were like torture for Patrick. To show support to Rosie's mother they did attend a small, brief service for Mr. Sheppard. The other, even more wretched man had eventually succumbed to the injuries Patrick had dealt him and was buried next to his father. Patrick had simply explained to authorities that the man would have been hanged for stabbing him and stealing from him anyway, and the police happily agreed that he had simply done them a favor. There were some advantages that came with being Lord Patrick Woodcombe.

In a private moment with Rosie, Patrick asked her if she'd done as he'd requested and pleasured herself. She hadn't answered, but her cheeks had turned an alarming shade of red. Imagining her doing that was an exquisite kind of torment. But tonight, he would finally have all of her.

Ash had insisted that there should be some celebratory drinking and dancing after the wedding ceremony. He'd had all the tables moved out of the way and turned The Raven's Den into a makeshift ballroom. The decorators had done an excellent job. Even Patrick hardly recognized the place. He stared across the room as Rosie danced with his brother, of all people. He never thought he'd see the day that his pompous brother would be dancing, in his night club, with a woman not of the aristocracy. Wonders would never cease.

Michael appeared at his side. "We've been summoned up to the office for a private toast." Patrick followed Michael through the curtain in the back and up the stairs to their office. On the desk sat their usual drinks, two glasses of brandy and one of barley water.

Ash handed them each their glasses and raised his own. "To the first of us to fall into the clutches of marriage. May his days be filled with happiness and his nights filled with pleasure. We don't want to see the wrath of Rosie if you ever tire of having her in your bed." A harmony of laughter broke among them. "All the best. To Patrick!"

"To Patrick!" Michael echoed. The three of them clinked their glasses and downed the liquid inside.

"Thank you. Both of you, but especially you, Ash. I know I've been a pain in the arse these past weeks, so thank you for putting up with me. And even more importantly, thank you for keeping her safe." Patrick let out a reluctant sigh. "Even from me."

"You owe me, my friend," he said, and clapped Patrick on the shoulder.

As Patrick turned to leave, Michael placed a hand on his arm. "I know this is a terrible time to talk about business, but before you disappear with your bride, I just need to make sure that you really aren't going on a honeymoon."

Patrick shook his head. "Rosie insisted traveling is the last thing she wants right now. But why do you ask?"

"Well," Michael hesitated. "It's time."

Patrick's eyes grew wide. "Has it really been that long?"

Michael nodded. "Fifteen years. Time for me to go and collect my bride."

Patrick chuckled softly. "I may have been the first to fall, but not by very much."

"Yes, well," Michael set down his empty glass. "I don't need reminding. I just need to make sure you'll be here to cover for me while I'm away."

"Of course. And now,"—he pointed at both of them—"I plan to spend the next two days in bed, with my beautiful wife. If either of you bothers me, there will be hell to pay." Patrick heard them laughing as he trotted down the stairs.

He was done waiting. It was time to take his bride home. She was standing with her mother and a few other ladies, a brilliant smile on her face. He leaned into the middle of them and simply said, "Excuse us."

Her expression brightened even more as she looked up into his eyes. He grabbed her by the elbow and led her away. She blushed slightly when she realized what was happening and she waved back at her friends.

There was a carriage waiting to carry them the short distance to his apartment. Their apartment. It provided just enough time to pull her onto his lap and kiss her soundly enough to make her breathless before they arrived.

He kicked the bedroom door shut behind them and immediately got to work getting her out of that gown. It was beautiful, but he wanted her naked. As soon as it was off her shoulders, he ran his tongue along her collarbone. He would never tire of the taste of her skin.

When she was down to just her chemise, he couldn't wait any longer and took one of her nipples into his mouth, fabric and all. She groaned loudly, but quickly covered her mouth. Patrick stopped and pulled her hand away. "Don't hide your pleasure from me, Rosie."

She stepped back from him and he forced his lust to quiet down. This time was going to be different than the others had been. In fact, he was moving far too quickly.

"Before we go any further, I need to understand what happened the other times we made love."

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, every time we've been intimate, you've been enthusiastic about it right up until I am about to enter your body, and then you shut down. Did I hurt you?"

"No." She shook her head and reached a hand up to caress his cheek. "You've never hurt me, Patrick."

"Did I frighten you, then?"

She shook her head.

"Did it remind you of the things that happened in your past?"

Her hand dropped and she shrugged. "A little perhaps. At least, that's what happened the first time, in your office." She sighed and he waited for her to explain further. "But not the other times… it feels so good, and surely that can't be right."

"So when you closed your eyes and wouldn't look at me, that was because it felt good, and you were embarrassed or ashamed?"

She nodded, her cheeks growing pink even now. Relief flooded him to know he hadn't hurt her. Embarrassment they could deal with. He wrapped his arms around her.

"Oh Rosie. It's supposed to feel good. I want you to enjoy it."

"But are you sure I'm really supposed to feel so much need for it? So much pleasure? Isn't it sinful for me to enjoy these things?"

Patrick shook his head and cupped a hand around her cheek. "Your pleasure is not something to be ashamed of, Rosie. It's beautiful, and wonderful, and perfect, and it drives me mad with lust. I want to hear your moans and feel you quiver. I want you to ask for what you want and call out when it feels good."

"But what about," she nibbled nervously on her lower lip and looked down at her fidgeting hands. "What about…"

He urged her chin up with his finger. "What about when I'm inside of you?" he asked. She nodded quickly and tried to look away, but he held her and looked into her eyes.

"Especially then." He kissed her softly and ran his tongue over her lip where she'd been nibbling. "I want you to cry out in ecstasy when I give you pleasure and I want you to take your satisfaction anyway, and every way, you want it."

"Really?" She was still a little unsure.

Patrick nodded. "Really. And I want you to start now." He wrapped his lips around her other nipple and drew it into his mouth. Rosie whimpered and looked down at him for reassurance. He pulled the chemise off over her head and then looked into her eyes as he flicked her nipple with his tongue. She whimpered more loudly this time, and he groaned his encouragement. He laved the hardened bud over and over until she was crying out, her hands gripped his hair holding him to her breast.

"Patrick, please!"

He carried her to the edge of the bed. He briefly suckled the nipple he'd been neglecting, but she was close, and begged him for more.

"Patrick, please. I need you."

"I know, Rosie." He quickly removed his clothes and climbed onto the bed. "Straddle me." He was going to make sure this time was different so it hopefully wouldn't stir up any memories from her past.

"What?" Her brows drew down in confusion.

"Do you trust me, Rosie?"

She nodded. "Always."

"Then climb on top of me."

Slowly she crawled to him, and he helped her to settle on top of him. Her wet heat slid along his hard length, and it was nearly his undoing. He helped to move her up so that his tip was nestled right at her entrance.

"I want you to take me inside of you only when you're ready, and I want you to do it how it feels good to you."

She didn't waste any time. She gently pushed herself down, inch by inch, until he was fully seated. After a moment, he gripped her hips and helped her to move back up again. "You can move however it feels good for you. Fast or slow, short strokes or long ones, you do whatever brings you pleasure."

As she took him deep inside her once more, she groaned. "Oh Patrick."

"Mmmm. I love hearing my name from your lips."

She steadily increased her pace, swirling her hips, and grinding herself against him. "That's it, Rosie. Take your pleasure."

She rode him harder, her panting and moaning growing louder with each repetition, driving his own passions to their limit. She was unimaginably delicious. He reached up and grazed his fingertips across her swollen nipple.

"Oh God, Patrick. Oh, Oh," and with that, she contracted around him with a cry of release, pulling him along to join her in ecstasy.

She collapsed on top of him, and he wrapped an arm around her. "That was incredible, Rosie."

She brushed a strand of hair off of her sweat damped face and tucked it behind her ear. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, because I plan to do it many, many more times in the future."

Patrick chuckled. He looked forward to every single one of those times. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I love you, my beautiful Rosie."

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