Page 58 of His Revelation
“That is fine,” she gasped, shifting, so she could throw one leg over his thighs. “The journey is long.”
Humming, he agreed. It would take them several hours to reach his—their—estate, and whoknewwhat kind of intriguing activities they could get up to in the meantime.
During the last weeks, the two of them had snuck away often enough, since the Dumpkins house party offered plenty of opportunities for wickedness. They’d spent plenty of time talking about their future, holding hands, and sharing thoughts…but they’d found enough privacy forotherthings as well.
And it wasn’t as if this would be Tiffany’s first arrival at Blabloblal. She’d visited often enough to meet the staff and prepare for her official reign as a viscountess. Her smiles, and the way she was genuinely interested in the running of the place, had made the staff love her. He knew Tiffany was up to the challenge of running an estate like his, completely unaided.
So aye, she’d been introduced to everyone she needed to worry about impressing, and surely they wouldn’t begrudge their new mistress arriving at her new home a bitrumpledon the morning of her wedding?
Smiling, Lysander shifted positions, settling himself upright against the squabs, and pulled her leg even further across his. “The journeyislong,” he murmured, loving how enthusiastically she climbed atop his lap. “And I can think of any number of ways to occupy ourselves.
“Good,” she gasped, as his hands closed around her breasts. “Because that creative thinking is one of the things I adore about you.”
“Whatotherthings do ye adore, love?” His hands were already digging at the piles of petticoats bunched between their legs, and he appreciated the way she lurched forward on her knees, helping him.
They both sighed in unison as she settled herself down, her warm dampness flush against his alarmingly aroused cock.
“I love all sorts of things about you,” she murmured, cupping his cheek. In the light from the windows—which he’d scandalously left open as they sped through the Highlands—he could see her wicked grin. “Including the way you listened to my suggestion to wear a kilt to our wedding.”
She’d worn a delightfully low-cut gown, and he was prepared to take advantage of that. “Aye?” he asked, as he bent to brush a kiss atop one plump breast. “I thought it was because ye liked to look at my legs.”
“That, husband, and I appreciate the easy access.”
When she reached down and closed her fingers around the hardness tenting the front of his kilt, Lysander began to chuckle.
Tiffany suspected she should control herself. But the thought of spending the next few hours in this coach merelyholding handswith her new husband was atrocious. They had forever for that sort of thing.
Besides, a bit of a cuddle might be nice…after.
Aye, after.
When she lowered her lips to his, Lysander’s chuckle turned into a groan, and she had to smile triumphantly. Her fingers encircled his hardness, stroking the way he’d shown her a fortnight ago, and sitting in his lap made her feel powerful, desirable.
Of course, that was when he squeezed her breasts lightly, then reached into her bodice and scooped them out entirely. When he moved his attention to her nipples, she forgot exactly what she was doing.
He’d learned early on that her nipples were reallyquitesensitive, and all he needed to do to get her hot and ready was?—
“Yes!” she gasped against his lips. “Like that!”
He chuckled again, lifting one breast to his mouth as his other hand delved between their bodies, fighting through the mass of petticoats to find her slick, wet heat. As his fingers teased her folds, she dragged her fingers through his hair.
“Lysander! Cease teasing me.”
She felt him grin around her nipple, and his thumb found her clitoris, the center of her pleasure, and gave it a gentle flick. Her hips jerked into his, and she gasped as her aching core instinctively cradled his hard length.
“Now, wife?” he growled.
She didn’t need to be prompted, but raised up far enough on her knees to shift her weight forward…and slide down atop him. As his hard length slid into her, they both exhaled, as if releasing tension.
For the first time, Tiffany became aware of the motion of the carriage.
Apparently, she’d been distracted enough earlier that the constant rocking hadn’t bothered her. But now she realized Lysander had propped his booted feet against the opposite seat, his head back against the cushion, and the rocking…
Well, the rocking was really rather fortuitous, wasn’t it?
“Why are ye grinning?” he asked.
Her smile grew. “Because…” She shifted forward again, lifting herself just slightly off his hard length, which allowed the motion of the carriage to slide him infinitesimally in and out of her. “I have decided carriages reallyareremarkable contraptions.”
