EPILOGUE
Wolf’s wife was trouble.
The very best sort.
She was also on his lap, which was making it deuced difficult to concentrate on the ledgers which had been awaiting him on the desk. With all the changes in circumstance his siblings had gone through—marriages, babies, new business endeavors, the list was endless—they had taken to sharing the duties that corresponded with running two successful gaming clubs. And sharing meant whomever was about attended to anything that required addressing.
On this particular evening, it was the ledgers, which had been neglected for about a week now that Pen was nearly ready to have her babe. But some day soon, when Portia was at her lying in for the child growing now in her womb, someone else would be taking Wolf’s place as he tended to his wife and their son. Aye—son. He could not contain the pride that rose within him at the thought, for young Edwin had asked several weeks before if he might call Wolf Papa now. And Wolf had never felt more complete.
“You have a penchant for disrupting me in this office,” he drawled, not regretting Portia’s surprise appearance at The Sinner’s Palace one whit.
The blasted tallies behind her could wait.
She smiled as she linked her arms around his neck, her vibrant eyes glittering into his. “It is the first place we met. Do you remember what you asked me that day?”
He thought for a moment. “All I recall about that day is what happened on this desk.”
Hungry kisses, his fingers gliding over her silken quim. Aye, he remembered that.
“You asked me if I was lost,” she said.
Ah, yes. So he had.
“You were wearing a ball gown and satin slippers,” he pointed out wryly. “It ain’t every day that a countess appears in The Sinner’s Palace, dressed like a goddess and smelling like a garden in bloom.”
She gave him a mock pout that made him long to kiss her senseless. “I hope it was just that one day, and that I was the only countess you ever seduced on this desk.”
“It was, and you are.” His head dipped, and he claimed those luscious lips for a moment before withdrawing to meet her gaze. “I reckon I’m about to seduce her on this bloody chair now as well.”
She smiled again and he kissed the corner of her lips. “I’m not a countess any longer. I’m Mrs. Wolf Sutton now.”
He grinned, pride and love crashing together in his heart and making it beat fast. “Damned right, you are.”
“And it is she who is about to seduce you on this chair,” she said wickedly as one of her hands slid down his chest in a tantalizing caress. “Not the other way around.”
“I’m not about to stop her,” he said.
“Good.” She kissed his jaw, his ear, his throat.
“Christ,” he growled when her tongue licked against his skin. “I’m harder than a fire iron.”
Her fingers danced over the fall of his trousers. “And every bit as hot.”
His head fell back against the chair and he arched into her knowing touch. “Perhaps you ought to open those buttons and feel for yourself just how much.”
“Oh yes,” she murmured. “I think I shall.”
But rather than pluck a button from its moorings, she prolonged his torture, wriggling on his lap and tormenting his poor, aching cock with the tease of her full bottom moving over him.
“Damn it, love,” he growled, clutching her waist as if that would stay her movement. “What are you trying to do, wife, kill me?”
“Not at all.” His Siren slid to the carpets before him, on her knees. She glanced up at Wolf from beneath lowered lashes. “I only want to please you, husband.”
She pleased him more than he could ever possibly convey with mere words. Even his actions, he feared, failed miserably at showing her just how loved she was. But he did his damnedest every day, to show her in every possible way.
Her nimble fingers worked the buttons on his trousers, unhooking one. He was pulsing, his cock weeping with the need to be in her hands, in her mouth. And she knew it, the sly minx. Knew just the effect she had on him. The other button slid free. The placket fell down, and cool air kissed his prick as it sprang forward, hard and ready for her.
Blast.They could be interrupted at any moment. He had to stop her.
Wolf glanced at the door, which was firmly closed, but not locked, and tried to summon his control. “Someone could come in, love. You had best not—”
His words died away into a groan at the velvet heat of her mouth engulfing him. She took him deep, all the way to the back of her throat, and held him there before slowly withdrawing, sucking his cock along the way.
“Portia,” he said, half moan, half protest.
She gripped his shaft firmly and flicked her tongue around the head of his cock, before pressing her tongue into his slit and lapping him up. The sight of his beautiful wife before him, that luscious pink mouth on his cock, was so erotic, he almost came then. But he inhaled slowly, forcing himself to hold off the inevitable release, wanting to savor every moment. His hand cupped her head, fingers sliding through the luxurious silk of her chestnut hair.
She sucked him deep again, working him with her hand and her clever mouth. And when she withdrew to run her tongue along the bottom length while pumping him with the steady, smooth motions she knew he could not resist, he gave himself over to her completely.
No more protest.