Page 80 of The Best Marquess

He grinned. “Well ma’am, I understand you know the wicked ways of pleasure toys. Specifically, ones that go in the arse. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her nipples now visible against the fabric of her nightgown. “They make a body come in the most delightful way.”

“Then I hope you might take pity on a green lad like myself…and do that to me.”

A smile of pure sin curved Pippa’s lips. “I suppose I could do that. Do you have toys here? And some oil?”

“In that bottom drawer,” said Finn, pointing to a carved oak dresser. “Look for a leather purse.”

His wife practically flew across the chilly room. He almost laughed when she paused to stoke the fire and light two fresh candles—not even the prospect of pleasure could halt that practical streak inside her—but her enthusiasm was obvious; she practically ransacked his drawer to find the purse, and lifted it above her head with all the triumph of a pirate brandishing a treasure chest. “Got it!”

Unable to resist, Finn reached down and took his aching cock in hand, giving it a few gentle squeezes. “Bring the oil and the thumb sized dildo.”

Pippa returned to the bed and presented the items to him with a flourish. “Oh Finn. This is so exciting. What should I do next?”

“Prepare me,” he replied, taking two pillows and stuffing them underneath his lower back so his hips were raised. “Don’t forget to be generous with the oil. And at each step, tell me what you are about to do in the filthiest way possible.”

“Oh God,” she said huskily, lifting her nightgown to slide a hand between her legs. “I am going to touch myself and you are going to watch.”

At the sight of Pippa stroking her wet, fragrant center, Finn groaned. But when her fingers were slick with her own honey and she leaned forward and anointed his lips, he almost came. “More,” he rasped, as once again his tongue confirmed that caramels were a distant second to his wife’s pussy.

Pippa shook her head. “Don’t be greedy. Now, lie back like a good husband so I might see that fine backside of yours.”

He bent his knees and curved one arm behind his head as though utterly relaxed. “Fine? That is high praise. Not much to work toward, then?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Faint praise to manipulate someone into doing more is a shockingly bad habit that I will strive to forget. You have a magnificent arse, Finn. Superb. It is firm and yet not too firm to dig my heels in. The only reason that I refrain from having it cast in stone or bronze, is that I prefer the enjoyment of it to be mine alone.”

“Well,” he said bashfully. “Lovely.”

Picking up the bottle of golden oil, Pippa uncorked it and took a sniff. Her nose wrinkled slightly, but she poured some into her left palm, then swirled the tip of her index finger in until it was coated in the substance. “Ready?”

“I am.”

“By the by…you may not touch your cock.”

“I must protest!” said Finn, reluctantly moving his other hand behind his head.

“Protest acknowledged and dismissed,” she replied crisply. “Now, dear husband, I am going to rub some oil around that hole, then push my finger in. Just like you did to me. It felt…so strange. So very naughty. And the stretch burned a bit. But it was a good burn that made my clitoris throb. I shall henceforth be a strong advocate for pleasure toys in backsides. In conclusion, I hope it feels equally good for you.”

“Please do proceed.”

At the first tentative touch of Pippa’s oil-slick finger, he almost laughed at the tickling sensation. But then her touch firmed and she circled his back entrance before penetrating him about half an inch.

Finn shivered. “Do that again. Please.”

After re-wetting her finger in oil, Pippa carefully slid her entire fingertip inside him. He moaned at the intoxicating pleasure-pain sensation; as she had said, the stretch burned, but at the same time his back arched, wanting more. Christ, his cock ached. And not being able to touch himself and gain ease was a secondary sweet torment.

“How is that?” asked Pippa, peering at him over her spectacles as she thrust her finger in and out of his arse.

He clenched his jaw against a hot wave of sizzling arousal. Goddamn but those spectacles were like another pleasure toy for him. “Good. Very, very good. Could you possibly add a second finger?”

When she did so, knitting together her well-oiled index and middle fingers and pushing them deep, Finn’s ragged gasps echoed in the bedchamber. Much like she had a special spot inside her pussy, it seemed he had an internal one too.

“Do I take it that is satisfactory?”

Panting, he managed to nod. “A bit more, then the dildo.”

Her fingers continued to move inside him, sometimes straight in, sometimes twisting or parting a little. But when she withdrew them, then carefully penetrated his backside with the cool, unyielding jade dildo, Finn clenched the pillow under his head in an iron grip. Nothing mattered but sating his engorged, seed-damp cock; he was so close to coming he could scarcely think.