Home > Truce: The Historic Neighbor from Hell(52)

Truce: The Historic Neighbor from Hell(52)
Author: R.L. Mathewson

Chapter 29

“Your brother left again.”

“I wasn’t aware that he’d returned,” Robert murmured absently, barely sparing his mother a glance as he continued to pace the foyer.

“He returned yesterday afternoon after your father sent for him,” his mother explained with a huff as she gave up the hope that he’d stop pacing and sat down on the chair by the breakfast room.

“He came immediately?” he asked, shooting another glare towards the back hall.

No doubt his brother had been able to come so quickly because he’d been staying with his mistress, but he didn’t bother pointing that out to his mother since it would probably earn him a glare and a whole new lecture.

“Yes,” his mother said as she smoothed down her skirt, “you knew that he was eager to marry Elizabeth.”

“And get her fortune,” Robert pointed out, wondering why it was taking so long for the cook to make the peppermint tea she’d promised would settle his wife’s stomach.

“It’s how things are done,” she said with a resigned sigh.

“Things change,” he said, glancing at the clock by the door before returning his attention to the back hall. If they didn’t have her tea ready for her in five minutes, he was going back there and making the damn tea himself.

“It would have been a safe match,” his mother said quietly, drawing his attention momentarily from the hallway.

“I’d never hurt her,” he said tightly, sick of the bullshit assumptions that he’d ever hurt Elizabeth.

“Not on purpose,” she hedged carefully, “but with your history, I doubt that it will be very long before the two of you are at each other’s throats.”

“We’re getting along just fine,” he said evenly, shooting another glance at the clock.

They were getting along more than just fine. After they’d made love this morning to put an end to any more suggestions that they should annul the marriage, they’d fallen back asleep in each other’s arms. Not too long ago he’d woken up with Elizabeth straddling his lap as she once again tried to ride him. Apparently once his minx got an idea into her head, she couldn’t let it go.

Thank God for that!

It had probably been the most difficult thing that he’d ever done in his life, but he’d managed to force himself to lie there and let Elizabeth have her fun. He’d loved the way she smiled, laughed and made fun of herself as she did her best to figure out the mechanics of riding him.

She’d made him smile and laugh even as he’d been forced to fold his hands behind his head to stop himself from grabbing her and slamming her down on his cock. God, she’d been so wet, dripping on his hungry c**k as she rubbed on him, desperate to put it inside her. When she started grinding her wet mound against him as she moaned and panted his name, he’d lost the battle and reached down and gripped himself.

By that time his c**k had been completely coated in her juices. His hand slid down his length and he’d moaned. It had felt so good, so unbelievably good. His hand moved on its own as his eyes devoured the sight of her. Watching her watch him stroke himself had nearly undone him so he’d slowed down, teasing them both.

He’d loved the way her eyes became hooded, her breathing quickened, her ni**les hardened as though they were reaching for him, but nothing compared to the way that her h*ps had started to shift as though she was imagining his c**k inside her. Just watching her get excited was enough to have his balls draw up tight.

Just as he slid his hand down to the base and held it up in offering she did something that he’d never expected and had never seen another woman do before. She reached down and cupped herself between her legs and released a moan so sweet that he’d honestly been surprised that he hadn’t instantly exploded.

His hand started to move again, his eyes locked on her hand as she slowly massaged her mound. His breathing had become labored as she explored herself, her fingers sliding between her slit, glistening with her arousal and, when she tentatively slid a finger inside of herself, he’d been forced to grip his c**k tightly to stop himself from coming.

For several agonizing minutes he watched as his wife learned to pleasure herself. Her expression had been one of pleasure mixed with disbelief and wonder. She’d been so goddamn beautiful and when he told her so, she’d blushed prettily, but didn’t stop.

No, not his minx.

She’d loved the way that he reacted to her, enjoyed it to the point that she started to tease him . She’d caressed her breast with her free hand, slid her fingers slowly inside her core and he’d lost control of his tongue. He told her in detail how much he loved watching her, how badly he wanted to suck on her fingers, lick her clean and f**k her. He swore, used words that no man of his class would use in front of his wife and hadn’t cared, especially since it made her lose control.

When she found her moment, he’d simply watched her, loving the way her skin flushed with excitement, her br**sts bounced, and the way she moaned and whimpered with every thrust of her fingers. The moment that she’d finished, she found herself on her back and his c**k ramming inside her still quivering sheath.

He hadn’t lasted long, but he’d taken her with everything he had, not holding back until she was screaming his name and he was spilling inside of her. Moments after he’d come, he was still slowly thrusting his softening c**k inside of her, wanting nothing more than to take her again, but his minx it seemed had other plans.

With a muttered cry of distress, she’d pushed him away, slapped a hand over her mouth and ran to the chamber pot and proceeded to get sick. Feeling like a bastard for taking her so soon after she’d lost the baby, he got up to go comfort her, but she wasn’t having that. Anytime he came close enough to fuss over her, she would shake her head and let out a pitiful moan that left his chest aching.

He hated seeing her like this and wanted to take care of her, but the damn woman was being stubborn. The only thing that she would allow him to do was to have a bath drawn for her so that she could soak and to come downstairs and inquire about the peppermint tea that the cook had suggested would ease her stomach.

“Robert? Did you hear anything that I just said,” his mother snapped in frustration.

“Yes, of course,” he lied, ramming his fingers through his hair. Where the hell was her tea?

“No, you didn’t,” she said, sighing softly, but didn’t seem all that upset over the matter.

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