EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN YOUR LOVEABLE PARTS

EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN

YOUR LOVEABLE PARTS

M iles, Daisy, and Belle walked back from the woods to find the manor house dreaming in the afternoon sun, the main rooms clean and quiet, their butler nowhere to be seen. When Miles poked his head into the nursery, Nanny Plum was sitting by the window, folding a stack of tiny garments.

There she is! Nanny cried, springing from her seat so quickly that clothing tumbled to the floor.

Belle hid her face against Miles s shoulder as if she were shy-which she was not-and then peeked at her nanny.

Please come to me?

With a radiant smile that suggested confident assurance that everyone in the world loved her, Belle held out her arms.

Who s the best baby in the world? Nanny crooned. My little Bluebell, that s who

The sound died away as Miles closed the door to the nursery.

When he slipped through the door to their bedchamber, latching it for good measure, Daisy was leaning back against the headboard, wearing a chemise.

Nothing but a chemise.

Miles stiffened, every muscle in his body clenching. The garment was translucent and embroidered with just enough scattered blossoms to draw a man s focus to the pale pink nipples visible between a sprinkle of rosebuds.

He peeled off his shirt and tossed it to the side.

You did promise to show me your loveable parts, his wife said, looking appreciatively at his chest.

Miles tried to force some words from his throat, but all he could manage was a hoarse Right.

He stripped off his boots, breeches, smalls all the garments by which men hid themselves from the world, until he stood naked at the side of the bed: unfashionably burly, unbecomingly hairy, with an extremely large cock bobbing inelegantly against his belly.

Daisy looked him over slowly, a light in her eyes telling him that every part of him was lovable.

I m arrogant, he told her, making sure she knew what she was taking on. Angry and disillusioned, because of the criminal behavior I witnessed and couldn t punish. I am ashamed of my rakish past. But I love you, Daisy. I love all of you, every part of you, mind, body, and spirit.

She came up on her knees, which meant that her chemise pulled against her generous breasts, the swell of her hips, the straw-colored curls between her legs, and held out her arms. Miles went to his wife, because he would always go to her.

She was his, and he was hers.

In the end, he ripped the chemise from her body so that he could lick her nipples and make love to every lovable part of her. It wasn t until she was shivering, whimpering, and pleading that he braced himself over her. Ready?

God, yes, Daisy said. With feeling.

There s no going back. You ll be mine, Belle will be mine, your horde of half-siblings will be mine, too. You ll become my family. Ask my sisters: I never give up on my family.

Her hand caressed his cheek. I know. You will shout when you re tired, and walk the floor if one of us is teething, and love us unto death. Did I cover everything?

Miles nodded.

You ll be mine , as well, she reminded him.

I can t imagine a better fate. He glanced down. My cock is thicker than my fingers.

Daisy s lips curled up. I m looking forward to that. Her eyes promised a life he had never imagined: one of decency and love and desire.

His voice rasped from his heart. You re going to kill me.

Let the deflowering commence! Her eyes were lit with pure anticipation.

It may hurt, Miles said, hating that idea.

So I ve heard. But I m already aching. No man could have refused that plea.

Daisy s reaction to the said deflowering was a shiver and then a request that Miles go faster. She wiggled, sending fire through his body. Actually, could you come deeper? Her voice was intoxicating, a mixture of desire and happiness as potent as any siren s song.

When Miles pushed up one of her legs and stroked into her, harder and faster, his wife s eyes widened, and a low moan broke from her throat. Her hands clamped on his shoulders. I think I finally understand Byron s poetry.

The only poetry Miles wanted came in the form of Daisy s cries. The very fibers of his being were focused on making sure that his bride enjoyed herself. Found enjoyment. Fragments of thoughts flew through his head like cracked china. Daisy s moans. The way she arched her neck. The way her legs curled around his hips.

The whole of it. The profound joy of making love to his wife.

When he finally rolled onto his back, sweating and exhausted, he thought dimly that he was the luckiest man in the world. Daisy lay beside him, air sobbing from her lungs, but a minute or two later, she turned her head, and he saw a smile in her eyes.

She swung herself over him coming down on her knees, wearing only a violet diamond and a wedding band. Miles crossed his hands behind his head and enjoyed the fact that his body responded to her as if he were a mere lad again.

I have an idea, Daisy announced. She wiggled her hips side to side, and he drew in a sharp breath. It s something I read about. I couldn t envision it, but now I understand.

Miles s attention was caught by her breasts, because there they were in front of him, gloriously lush, reddened by his lips. Did I bite you? he asked, looking closely.

You are marvelously obedient when I said harder, Daisy told him. She bent forward, bracing her hands on either side of his head. I finally figured out what you meant, she said, easing down onto his cock with a blissful expression.

What? Miles grunted. It was all he could summon up.

Some parts of you are more lovable than others, Daisy said, joy liquid in her voice.