His Wanton Marchioness by Sorcha Mowbray

Author:Sorcha Mowbray [Sorcha Mowbray]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amour Press
Published: 2021-05-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Carlisle watched the hem of the sheer nightgown float around a corner and then disappear. It was bloody difficult to run with a full-on cockstand, but by God, he’d teach his wife not to tease him in such a manner. When he caught her, he would do unspeakable things to her. He would undoubtedly spank her lush backside, and then he would do as she had requested. He would fuck her. Thoroughly.

His feet slapped the parquet floor as he closed in on his quarry. She tore through the music room and then into the conservatory. He was nipping at her heels by the time she reached the ballroom. But she found a new well of energy and pushed out of his reach. As she slipped around a corner and into the dining room, he cursed. She’d led him a merry chase through the downstairs areas of the house, but she seemed to be making her way back toward the stairs. Then she broke into the foyer from the dining room, and he extended his stride, closing the distance between them. He’d enjoyed the chase, but now he wanted to end it. He wanted her. She was about to reach the stairs when he caught the hem of her pitiful excuse for a nightgown and gripped it in his hand. He then drew her back, fist over fist of cotton, reeling her in like a fish he’d once caught on a hook out of the lake at Carlisle Manor.

“Got you!” he exclaimed with great satisfaction and then pulled her into his arms. She wiggled against him in the most enticing manner, half-heartedly trying to escape. Already fractionally out of his mind with lust, he couldn’t take more of her gyrations, so he threw her over his shoulder and started up the stairs. With his big hand resting on her bottom while her head hung over his back and her feet dangled in front of him, she lay compliant for now.

In a few long strides, he was up the stairs and marching toward his bedroom. He needed room to maneuver her. His bed would afford him sufficient space. Inside, he closed the door and then strode over to the bed and set her down. Her hair fluffed out in a cloud around her, making her look like an angel draped in gossamer. A very naughty angel.

“Carlisle, I—”

“Do not make excuses for what has transpired here tonight. You came downstairs wearing that nightgown with every intention of luring me into your clutches. Well, my dear, you have achieved your desire. What remains to be seen is if you got all that you bargained for. I suppose we shall see.” He growled as he yanked his cravat free of his shirt. Then he stripped off his coat and waistcoat.

All the while, his wife watched him with desire-glazed, storm-grey eyes and flushed cheeks. When he jerked his shirt over his head, she licked her lips again. The sultry move had tested his willpower downstairs and now was no different.

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