Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1)(73)

Julian did not welcome the idea of sharing Lily with her family so soon since their wedding. He’d had quite enough of company at Val’s house party. But to prohibit Lily would be mean and ungracious of him. “If you’d like that, then do invite them all to Willowreach. Few like to stay in London as the summer approaches.”

She pursed her lips and glanced out the window, her cheeks red.

He took hope from her embarrassment. “Why are you blushing, my dear?”

She clamped her legs together. The sensuous move was like spark to tinder.

“Lily?” He put two fingers to her chin and led her to look up at him. He ducked to avoid getting poked by the feather in her bonnet. What he saw in her eyes was molten blue desire. “Shall I dispense with your hat, my darling?”

“You shouldn’t.” She sighed, forlorn, her mouth turned down.

Resigned, he put his lips to her cheek. Of course not.

“I’ll arrive a mess.” She put a hand to his thigh and squeezed.

He shuddered.

Her eyes drifted closed. A frisson shook her. “But you want me.”

“I do.” Frustration assaulted him. He’d be a cad to pull up to her father’s house and show that man how he’d mistreated his daughter.

She faced him, her expression stark with hunger for him. “Isn’t there a way?”

Growling, he lifted her under her arms and led her to straddle him.

“Exactly,” she breathed as she kissed him deeply, her lips parting from his ever so slowly.

He brushed her skirts and petticoats high up her shapely naked thighs. At the sight of her tight little bush, he swallowed hard. His cock strained against his trousers. He cupped her soft tight curls and sent one finger up inside her juicy channel. Barely biting back a whimper, she coiled over his chest and worked diligently at opening the buttons to his flies. In a second, she had his member out in her hand. She stroked him with sure intent.

He could have her. Give her pleasure. In his private carriage. Satisfy them both.

“Come sink over me.” He heard himself, insistent, gruff.

Eager, she went up on her toes and inched forward. With her hand on him, she guided him to her entrance as she drifted down over his flesh. When she settled and he could go no farther, she flung her head back, mouth open. He’d never seen her more beautiful. With reverence, he rocked into her. She was all sweet, hot heaven and he fought like a savage to keep his patience and give her as good as he got.

But she lowered her face and locked her gaze on his. All tempestuous siren, she rode him in swift, smooth rhythm. He lost his breath along with his mind and drove into her with a long moan. She was his and a glorious possession she was. She deserved all of him and he had every reason on earth to fuck her and fuck her well.

She came with a cry.

He followed, giving up his all to loving her.

Panting, murmuring senseless words, she fell against him.

The coach rolled on, striking a hole in the road, jostling her in his embrace. She flexed her muscles to hug his cock and he grunted in pleasure.

The feather on her hat stuck him in the eye. Chuckling, he pushed it away and cuddled her close.

She laughed.

“What’s funny?” he asked, pushing errant strands of hair from her temple.

“I wonder what my father would say if we arrived like this in Piccadilly.”

“He’d shoot me.”

She nuzzled her nose against his throat. “I’d like to stay like this.”

His cock was already shrinking. “You’d have to give me time to catch my breath.”

She rolled her eyes. “We should, you realize. Go again.”

He glanced down, both brows high. “And why is that?”

“You promised me an education.”

He threw her a pained look.

“You said such things were possible anywhere.” She ran a fingertip along the edge of his lower lip. “And to date, I count only our bed, the dining room table—”

“Don’t forget Val’s garden.”

“I remember,” she said with a shiver. “There’s a stable left. A hay stack, to be precise.”

“The floor,” he added.

“And standing up.”

His cock jumped at that idea. Stroking her inner thigh, he parted her wider. “We’ll perfect this position first. Hmm? What do you say?”

She wriggled in glee, her feminine folds yielding to the quest of his fingers. “Lead on.”

“Right you are.” And he continued his seduction of his willing, wanton wife.





“Lady Elanna is definitely not a happy bride.”

Lily wished she didn’t agree with her younger sister, Ada. The eighteen-year-old, along with her father, her brother Pierce and Marianne had also been invited to this pre-wedding ball given by the Duke and Duchess of Seton. They’d returned from Paris for the occasion.

“Doesn’t her family see this?” Ada waved her fan, anxious for Elanna.

“They know.” Lily watched Julian’s sister in the far corner talking with her intended husband, Lord Carbury. Are they arguing? Here? “They approve of him.”

“Even though she doesn’t love him?”

Pierce, the younger, slimmer version of their tall, brusque, Black Irish father, gazed at the bride with a cool detachment. In his formal attire, the black and white highlighting his sharp bone structure, he was devastatingly handsome. Like their father, he moved quickly, decisively. He appeared a brash American who could enthrall or repel with one glance. “She’s quite luscious. A perfect China doll. I see why the man wants her. Who wouldn’t?”