Epilogue

EPILOGUE

" M ay I?"

Persephone paused in the act of unpinning her hair and met her husband's gaze in the long, gilt-edged looking glass. "Of course."

Husband. What a thrill that word still gave her, though they had been married for two months now. He settled his hands on her shoulders and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the side of her neck, then nuzzled her throat. "Mmm. I ought to have thanked Devereaux Winter for his soap in addition to his help with routing your despicable cousin. I adore the way it smells, lingering on your skin after your bath."

The mention of Cousin Bartholomew, who had died suddenly just days following their wedding, no longer brought with it the accompanying dread and fear. He had been killed in a carriage accident. Fate had made certain he would never be a threat to either herself or Rafe, or anyone else, ever again. The new marquess, a distant country cousin, seemed kind and genuine, a happy turn of fortune for all.

Persephone could only hope the servants would be better treated. She and Rafe had offered all the domestics at Silwood Manor an opportunity to find placement with them in their new household prior to her cousin's death. She had also situated Echo and her other horses quite comfortably now that she had a stable of her own. Echo and the others were happy in the mews at the town house Persephone and Rafe had taken together, not far from The Sinner's Palace II, and quite near to Jasper and Lady Octavia's home. The Suttons had welcomed Persephone with open arms and hearts, and she could not be more grateful to call them family.

At long last, she had found a place where she belonged. A place that was meant for her. A man who was meant for her.

"Mr. Winter may have been scandalized had you mentioned your appreciation for the scent of his soap on my skin before we were wed," Persephone told her husband teasingly, reaching for Rafe's left hand and guiding it to her breast.

She was wearing nothing more than a gossamer night rail which had been designed by London's most sought-after modiste , Madame DePlessier, specifically with Rafe in mind. His thumb unerringly found the distended peak of her nipple, his other fingers skillfully caressing. She arched into his knowing touch.

"Winter doesn't seem the sort of cove who scandalizes easily." Rafe's lips grazed the shell of her ear as he spoke, but he kept their bodies carefully separate though they stood together, heightening her eagerness.

She shivered, but not from the cold. "Perhaps not."

He plucked at her nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger before giving it a tug. "Don't suppose it matters now. I behaved myself."

She smiled at their reflections. He was wearing a banyan of midnight silk, curls catching the candlelight and giving off a burnished glow. A thin slice of his strong chest was visible beneath the garment. Just enough to tempt. His feet were bare, his masculine calves peeping beneath the hem.

"I rather enjoy when you do not behave, husband," she said, watching as he swiftly dismantled what was left of her coiffure with his other hand.

"And I enjoy the way you look in this gown. It's so bleeding sheer, I can see the pretty pink of your nipples through it."

His low rasp sent heat to pool between her thighs. "You approve, then?"

"Need you ask?" He finished with her hair and spread the wildly curling strands down her back before burying his face in her crown and inhaling. "God, lovely. I can never get enough of you."

"Mmm." She sighed as his right hand joined the left, cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her gown. "I feel the same."

Each day brought them closer, strengthened the bonds that had already joined them. Their love and desire grew deeper.

He moved to the petite line of buttons trailing down her front and began pulling them from their moorings. As he did so, he returned his lips to her throat.

"Your pulse beats so fast, sweet," he murmured.

More buttons were undone, the twain ends of her night rail parting to reveal her breasts. Her breath was coming faster, her sex pulsing and ready, anticipating what would happen next.

"Because I want you," she said.

"You do?" He nipped her flesh, his fingers working on the buttons over her belly now, where there was no discernable difference just yet to show their child grew.

But they both knew.

Rafe's hands were tender as they caressed her there, lingering as they had tended to do ever since she had first divulged the happy news.

"Of course I want you," she told him, breathless.

"How much?" he asked, his left hand moving to her waist and pulling her neatly against him, so that their bodies were flush.

His chest pressed to her back, and the thick hardness of his cock nestled against the cleft of her bottom. As he asked the question, he pulled the last of the buttons free, making her night rail gape.

"Very much," she said, still watching them together in the mirror.

What an erotic picture they made, her handsome husband at her back, his mouth on her neck, biting and sucking, the pale mounds of her breasts revealed, her nipples still scarcely shielded as they tented the fine linen, her sex on display, framed by her thighs.

"If I touch your sweet cunny, will it be dripping for me?" he asked wickedly, his caress trailing lower, but stopping short of where she wanted it most.

"Yes," she said, unable to keep her hips from pumping, seeking his hand.

He kissed her ear, her cheek, and gave her a light pet. Just one sweep of his palm over the curls at the juncture of her thighs. "You are wet, aren't you, lovely?"

He was torturing her. She wanted his fingers on her, in her. But the game itself was almost as delicious as spending. Rafe was an expert at drawing her pleasure to an almost delirious peak before sending her over the edge.

He petted her again, his touch no more than as if it were a feather, passing over her heated flesh. "I didn't hear your answer. Is this pretty cunny of yours wet?"

"Yes," she repeated. "Oh, Rafe. Please. I need you."

He shifted then, hooking the rung of a low stool with his toes and bringing it nearer to her. "Place your foot on the cushion, sweet."

She did as he asked, the movement leaving her thighs parted, the glistening folds of her intimate flesh visible to both their gazes. He hooked his thumbs in the fabric pooled on her shoulders and dragged the night rail down until it fell to the floor with a hushed sound, leaving her completely bare. In the mirror, his gaze traveled over her, searing her as surely as if it were a touch.

"Beautiful," he praised, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. "Touch yourself. Feel how wet you are for me."

Oh heavens. His wicked directive turned the pulsing between her legs into a steady throb. She knew what he wanted, and she wanted it too, though she would have preferred his fingers to her own. Still, her knees trembled as her hand dipped, unerringly finding her pearl. She strummed over the swollen bud, feeling the slickness of her own readiness on her fingertips. Her touches were hesitant at first. She had never touched herself like this as he watched before, and she found the act both shocking and deliciously exciting all at once.

A soft sound of need slipped from her, and she stopped, fingers stilling as her shyness overcame the need for more.

"Don't stop." Rafe kissed her other shoulder, then the hollow behind her ear, his hands caressing paths of fire over her aching breasts, toying with her nipples. "Make yourself come."

His words sent an answering rush of heat to her core. She licked her lips, wondering if she dared to be so bold.

"Don't make me beg, lovely." At her back, he flexed his hips, driving his cock against her bottom. "I want to watch you please yourself."

His tongue traced the whorl of her ear, and her knees nearly buckled. But he was there, his arm around her waist holding her up, keeping her pressed tightly to his warm strength. She swirled her fingers over her bud, emboldened by his encouragement and the need that was still pulsing inside her. Once, twice, then faster.

"Yes, darling. Just like that," he praised, nipping her earlobe. "Don't stop. Look at yourself, so ready and perfect."

Her senses were sharpened to ultimate alert, and she was aware of everything. His scent enveloping her, his hardness at her back, the warmth of his breath fanning over her throat, her own fingers flying over her flesh, the steady ache building within. In the reflection, her cheeks were flushed, lips parted and dark as if she had been kissed, nipples hard, cunny pink and glistening. She loved the sight of Rafe's hands on her the most, so large and manly, yet touching her with such delicacy.

His left hand glided down her belly as she watched, then grazed over her inner thigh. He found her entrance and plunged two fingers deep inside her, crooking them forward until he found that exquisite place she had never known existed. As she continued pleasuring herself, he fucked in and out of her, bringing her swiftly to bliss.

She cried out, hunching forward, nearly toppling over at the ecstasy. He remained with her, gentling his thrusts, kissing her cheek and whispering words of love to her as he kept her from falling to the floor entirely. Gradually, the ferocity of her climax subsided. Rafe withdrew from her and turned her in his arms, taking her mouth in a slow, lingering kiss, his tongue dipping past her lips to slide against hers.

When he lifted his head, he was breathing as harshly as she was, his expression laden with so much desire and love that she wanted to burst. "Come to the bed with me, sweet. I want to lick you until you spend on my tongue."

Persephone was feeling greedy. She wanted his release as much, if not more, than her own. He had already left her limp and sated from their play at the mirror.

She opened his banyan and pushed it from his broad shoulders, gratified when he stood before her, splendidly naked, his cock jutting high, a glint of moisture seeping from the crown. The urge to lap it up struck her.

She took him in hand, giving the velvety-smooth length a loving stroke. "I want you in my mouth."

"Ah, God. You'll be the death of me, wife." But he was grinning as he kissed her swiftly once more before taking her hands in his. "Come. I've an idea that will give us both what we want."

He tugged her to the bed and they fell onto it together, kissing passionately, wrapped around each other, their bodies writhing. When he tore his mouth from hers once more, it was to roll away from her and settle on his back.

His big hands grasped her waist. "Turn around and get on your knees, lovely."

Wondering what he was about, she did as he asked, allowing him to guide her until her back faced him and she rested on her knees on the thick, comfortable counterpane.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "What are we doing?"

"I am going to eat your cunny, and if it pleases you to, you may also suck my cock."

His words made her wetter still, so candid and forbidden.

All she could manage was a one-word response. "Yes."

He positioned her so that she was astride him next, her bottom near to his face. The springy hairs of his chest tickled her inner thighs and the still-pulsing flesh of her sex. It was utterly scandalous.

He stroked her hips. "Give me your cunny, love. I can't wait to taste you."

The need in his voice banished any lingering shyness. She allowed him to help her shift, until…

Oh.

She rested atop him, her belly to his chest, and his tongue was flicking fast and hot and wet over her pearl. Rising toward her was his cock, thick and engorged and within perfect reach of her mouth. She took him in hand, gripping the base, and then lowered her head to run her tongue over his cock head. The taste of him filled her mouth. She flicked her tongue in lingering lashes, licking up every drop as he sucked on her, gorging himself on her cunny as if it were a feast and he was a starving man.

The wet sounds of him pleasuring her mingled with hers, filling the chamber. She took him deep into her throat on a moan, loving the way his hips jerked beneath her. Her ability to give him pleasure was a constant source of wonder to her, and his reaction to her efforts always served to heighten her own desire in return.

His tongue filled her, thrusting in and out as her cunny contracted around him. Already, she was close. He returned to her sensitive clitoris, delivering tender bites that had her riding his face and groaning around his cock. He was slick with her saliva and the precursor to his own spend. She took him deeper, wanting to make him as wild as he was rendering her, sucking and licking and pulling him to the back of her throat, which she knew always brought him so deliciously to the edge.

His hands traveled over her sides, her bottom, branding her, molding her to his touch. On a groan, he held her still for him to flutter little licks over her with gentle pulses before slowly fucking her with his tongue.

She came apart, her release shuddering through her with a violence that took her by surprise. Sparks of light danced behind her eyelids, and she moaned, her mouth full of him, his fingers kneading her hungry flesh as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over her.

She was boneless, but still intent upon him finding his own release when he pulled her from him, arranging her limp and sated form on the bed. His lips shone with her juices, his cock beautifully erect as he settled between her thighs. She opened wide for him in invitation.

"Come inside me, Rafe."

He gripped his shaft and aligned himself with her aching center. One thrust, and he entered her, the movement fast and sinuous. Leveraging himself on his forearms above her, he began a pace that was fast and furious and everything she wanted. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, body moving in time to his thrusts, urging him on.

She pulled his head down to hers, sealing their lips and sucking her own juices from his tongue. How good he felt inside her. How right. He reached to where they were joined, his fingers working over her pearl until she was coming again, clamping on his cock.

He moaned, his body stiffening, as he finally found his own release, the warm flood of his seed sending another rush of pleasure to her core. He remained where he was, their lips joined, his breathing as harsh as hers, his heart pounding against her breast.

When his head raised, the love in his eyes stole her breath anew. He kissed her nose, his hair tickling her cheeks. "I love you so bleeding much."

She smiled up at him, sweeping an errant curl from his forehead. "I love you every bit as bleeding much, Rafe Sutton."

He grinned, his dimples appearing. "Here now, lovely. I fear I'm debauching you with my wicked ways."

"I know you have," she said softly. "And I love it."

"Good." Still grinning, he kissed her again. "Because I have a lot more debauching to do."

"I am counting upon it, my love," she said against her husband's lips.

Thank you for reading Rafe and Persephone's story! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it.