Cora (Virtue & Vice #4)

Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CORA

T hat evening, Cora returned to an empty home with her head spinning. The things Tulip had shown her were shocking, but she couldn’t bring herself to be appalled. Instead, she was intrigued that lovemaking could encompass such a variety of acts.

All sense of herself as worldly and experienced had evaporated. Over an afternoon of billiards lessons, Tulip had convinced her to take a tour of the House of Vice. Cora never had made it to see Honey, instead rushing to make it home in time for supper only to find an irritable note from Martha waiting for her. She tossed it aside, lost in thought.

Did Gideon know about tying ladies up? Or spanking? She hadn’t realized it was a common thing to enjoy until Tulip told her how she had made a career of smacking men’s bottoms. Her specialty was humiliation.

Cora didn’t find humiliation erotic.

Blindfolding, however…

How did one go about asking for such things?

At the House of Virtue—or rather, its diabolical twin, the House of Vice—there was a protocol. You couldn’t start hitting or humiliating without setting ground rules first. That was where the real intimacy came into play. Trusting a stranger with your deepest thoughts and desires was an act of vulnerability.

Impossible to imagine Gideon being vulnerable with her like that. And yet, there had been a moment when he was murmuring against her ear when he’d let a secret slip: that he’d wanted to claim her, and couldn’t.

The regret in his voice haunted her. She needed to know the full story of what had happened that night from his lips. That meant she had to apply all of her new lessons to win a game. After that, she could think about what Tulip had shown her.

Wincing, Cora stretched her sore hands as she made her way up the stairs to their private rooms. The Flowers had been merciless in their instructions, from how to bend across the table and distract a man with one’s breasts while subtly edging a ball aside, to the best hold for taking tricky shots.

A little piano playing might help to stretch them out. Nothing much. Just a few warmup scales.

Cora tucked her skirt aside and sat on the piano bench. For the first time in eleven years, she began to play.

* * *

Gideon

Faint musical notes greeted Gideon when he arrived home that evening. He hesitated, tipping his head wonderingly at the unmistakable sound of a piano floating down the stairs.

A simple song. One appropriate for a child learning to play for the first time, and played with childish delight. His mouth curved into a smile as he made his way up to their connected rooms and leaned against the doorframe to watch. Cora’s eyes were closed, her chin tipped up, and she hummed along with the tune. Radiant. Just as beautiful as she’d been the night he ruined her.

She hit a wrong note. The spell broke. She startled and pressed one hand to her bosom.

“Don’t stop on my account.” He clapped a few times. “I’m glad to see you using your wedding gift.”

Her demure, shy smile punched him right in the gut. Instead of starting another song, she slipped off the bench and sauntered over to him.

“I’m sorry I was such an ingrate upon receiving your gift.”

Gideon blinked.

He did not know what to make of this sudden thaw, but he was not going to argue with the way she ran her hands up his lapels and drew him in for a kiss. When her lips met his, the contact was charged. Electric. He had anticipated this moment for so long. Now that it was happening, he didn’t know what to do with it.

“I ruined your joy,” he murmured. “I had no right to take that from you. None.”

“Are you ever going to tell me why you did it?”

He did not want to tell her. Nothing about what he’d done presented him in a positive light. Gideon locked his arms around her waist. “I’ll tell you if you can best me at billiards.”

She never would. Not after the lack of skill she’d exhibited. He had years of experience; she was a neophyte.

“Challenge accepted,” she said. A smile played over her generous lips.

He huffed in amusement. “I’m not thinking about games, songbird. Or at least, not that one.”

She twined her hands around the back of his neck. This was the kind of marriage he’d dreamed of. Her, pliant and warm, leaning into his touch. She represented the kind of softness that men of consequence, who dealt in hard truths and fought for dominance with bare knuckles that left bruises, weren’t supposed to yearn for. Yet he had, for eleven long years.

“I want you to continue playing for me.” His breath skimmed against her cheek. “Not right now, but soon.”

“I’m rusty.”

“Then practice.”

An idea sprang fully-formed into his mind. If she was still that good after neglecting to practice for eleven years, she could get back to performance-ready in no time. He could erase their fraught history and secure her a spot as one of London’s most refined ladies with one simple performance. The hard part would be getting her to agree, but that was no reason to hold off.

Gideon liked the way his risky bets had been paying off lately. He was on a winning streak. He’d forced Cora to the altar, acquired her brother’s bank, and she was none the wiser.

Her breasts were pillowy and sweet against his chest. Gideon slid his palm down the curve of her hip, not low enough to be vulgar, though he wanted to. Right now, he wanted this sweetness more.

“I don’t care if you hit every note off-key. I love watching you play. I love the way you close your eyes and tilt your chin just so. It makes me want to kiss you.”

“Such poetry from such a man,” she teased breathily. Her palm slid down his back, confident. Nothing of the demure maiden about her. Gideon liked the way she touched him. All these years he’d imagined her being missish and shy. In truth, the reality of her was far more enticing.

“Tell me something?”

“You can ask,” she said. “I may or may not answer.”

“Why didn’t you wait?”

“Wait for whom?”

She arched one eyebrow. Gideon swallowed. He had just admitted too much.

“For me,” he gritted out. Her other eyebrow rose in twin arcs of surprise.

“Gideon, you seemed content to humiliate me and then let me rot in obscurity forever. Did it never once occur to you that I wasn’t going to drift through the rest of my days like a wraith, waiting for some man to rescue me from a life of loneliness?”

Her tone was light and teasing, but her words were tinged with an undertone of deep hurt.

“As a matter of fact, it didn’t,” he said ruefully. “Once I had you safe?—”

“Safe?”

Cora pulled back, but Gideon wasn’t about to let her go. He tugged her hard against his front. “Yes, safe. Through no fault of your own, you were a target. I acted in the only way I could.”

She scoffed. “And then you let me molder for more than eleven years.”

“But you didn’t molder,” he said, knowing he’d already revealed too much. “You ripened. You grew. You had space and time to figure out who and what you wanted to be.”

Again, she made a dismissive noise, but it was softer this time. Less convincing.

“I wanted to shine in Society,” she said wistfully. “Be important, you know? I wanted to be admired. I thought they would at least give me a chance, despite my parentage. After you ruined me, I decided Eryx was foolish to want their approval, but at least he was honest about what he wanted.”

Gideon pressed a kiss to her throat. Her robe slid down the slope of her shoulder and he tasted her there, too.

“You will win every heart and mind in the ton, ” he murmured against her skin. “You will dazzle them with your wit and beauty. You will take London by storm.”

Once she won over the starchiest scions of Society, she would rake in money for Wentworth’s bank, too. What a fool Eryx had been not to leverage his sister’s warmth and kindness to advance his business—but then, he had been fishing in the kind of waters that teemed with sharks. Now those sharks were being dealt with, either by calling in debts they couldn’t repay and forcing them out, or by making clear their lines of credit were subject to cleaning up the less savory aspects of their enterprises.

Countess Oreste remained a problem he could not yet solve, but he would. The instant she was back, he would ensure that scandal of a fake charity house she ran closed forever. Unlike Wilder, he owed the woman nothing. But until she returned from wherever she was hiding, there was nothing to be done.

Nothing, except his wife.

Cora’s low moan as he sucked her breast deep into his mouth sent blood racing to his cock. She spiked her hands through his hair and clutched him to her.

From there, clothes dropped. His cravat. His waistcoat. Her robe, followed by his shirt, leaving only the thin silk of her nightgown as a barrier between their heated skin. Their kisses were hurried, but languid, suspended on a wire of tension between wanting to savor her and throw her onto the bed and bury himself inside her. Relieve this need that had been growing ever since their wedding.

Granted, he’d also imagined taking her over his knee and spanking her on more than one occasion, not necessarily for pleasure. Cora didn’t only spark with the bright fire of a diamond. She sparked with him, like two prizefighters in a boxing ring. She challenged him. Made him work for her approval.

No woman had ever done that before.

Every fantasy of gently initiating Cora into the world of sex he’d entertained for the past decade went flying out of his mind, replaced with a rush of increasingly creative and filthy things they could do together. She had gained some knowledge during her time in exile, and he was suddenly eager to exploit it. Expand upon it. For as much as Cora thought she knew, he had more to teach her about sex.

Even better: they had so many things to learn together.

Gideon’s skin flushed with volcanic heat, so hot with need that a slight tremble shook him. He bit down lightly on one puckered nipple and savored her answering moan.

He hooked his arms behind her knees and lifted her body. Cora’s legs locked around his back. One cap sleeve of her nightgown had slipped down her shoulder. It drove Gideon to the brink of insanity that the other still clung valiantly to its place, denying him full view of her tits.

Without preamble, he carried her to the bed, dropped her in the center, and took the neckline of her nightgown in both fists. Leveling his elbows, he tore it straight down the center with a deafening rip.

Cora’s lips parted. No sound came out. Her green eyes were alight with awe and excitement.

“That was new!” she protested.

“I’ll buy you a dozen more,” he growled, “and rip those off you, too.”

He shucked his trousers and pushed her back into the pillows, parting her legs. To his relief, Cora didn’t give him a hint of shy missishness, though she did try to keep her knees together for a moment.

“Let me see you,” he demanded. He was not going to be gentle. Nor would he be rushed.

“Can’t we turn out the lights?”

There it was. Whatever man had taken her for granted had done so out of incompetence. Gideon wasn’t afraid of besting a man who couldn’t bring himself to look at a woman’s body in the soft, romantic lighting of a lady’s bedchamber.

“Why, when I want to see your tits?” He squeezed them, scraping the pad of his thumbs over the tips until she arched. Pink flushed her delicate skin all the way down to the rosy tips. “I’m not turning off a damn thing. I want to see all of you. Every inch.”

Without giving her a chance to protest further, he moved one hand down and stroked his fingertip reverently through her petals. Liquid dripped down his knuckle. He came so close to losing it in that moment. Shoving his way inside and taking his pleasure without mercy—but then it would be over too soon. He intended to savor her.

His prize.

Some battles were won with fists and bruised ribs. Theirs was a test of wills, and at long last, he had prevailed. Gideon licked his finger, her tang hitting his tongue and lighting him up from the inside. Cora’s eyes widened.

“What on earth are you doing?” She cut off with a gasp as he settled himself between her thighs and replaced his finger with his tongue. That was more like it. Her hands danced over his scalp, tangling in his hair, tugging lightly when he circled her clit with his tongue. Up and down, probing the tiny slit where her silky juice ran over his tongue like a ripe peach. Her hips rocked, seeking blindly. He gave her what she needed. Two fingers, curled slightly to hit the slick spot on her inner walls that made her cry out as her thighs clenched around his ears and her back arched sharply.

“What a good girl my wife is, coming for me so quickly,” he murmured.

As she was so often wont to do, Cora surprised him. “I’m not Titi,” she chuckled.

Her body relaxed, her stomach quivering with each ragged breath. She looked ready to drop into a peaceful slumber. That wasn’t happening yet, either, but before he could prod her into wakefulness, those green eyes latched onto him. She rolled up onto her elbows and inched down the bed until her head was level with his chest.

“It’s only fair that I return the favor,” she said in a husky voice that made him painfully hard, and proceeded to favor him by wrapping her lips around the ruddy head of his cock. Every few seconds she glanced up at him from below that thick fringe of lashes. Down she went, taking him as far as she could go before backing off and swirling her shocking pink tongue around the sensitive head. He could come from this alone, easily.

But Gideon had other plans.

When he’d enjoyed her enough, he tugged her elbows and drew her up to straddle his hips. His cock was nestled in the damp heat of her sex. Cora coyly caught her lower lip between her white teeth and undulated her hips.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he gritted out. “If so, I can’t think of a better way to die.”

“I’m not ready to be a widow, so no, I am not trying to kill you, husband. Though there are times when you tempt me. Sorely,” she laughed.

“Likewise. Now get on my cock and let me give you a proper ride.”

“Me? On top?”

“Don’t look so shocked.”

She couldn’t be that experienced if this shocked her. As much as he wanted to know the details of whom she’d slept with and why, Gideon did not want to explain his own history.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her ripe tits. They swayed and jiggled as she lifted her hips and somewhat clumsily held the base of his cock while sliding it along her sex. Inky strands of hair slithered over her pale skin.

“Tease,” he complained.

Slowly, she sank down. Inch by inch, she took him deep. A distant, private part of him, one Gideon usually refused to admit existed, cataloged her every expression: surprise, the flutter of those long dark lashes as pleasure overtook her, followed by their wide flare as she bottomed out. Then a hint of determination crossed her gorgeous features as she shifted forward and took him even deeper.

Satisfaction rolled through him.

Cora, willingly riding his cock and loving it, was a sight he had dreamed of but never truly expected to experience. Hoped for. Yearned for. But the hard-headed, practical side of him knew that in his quest to possess her, he’d sabotaged any chance of this.

What a fucking gift she was. Exquisitely crafted for him and him alone.

She began to undulate. Her perfect tits swung in time with each motion, a leisurely pace that let him look his fill. Despite her initial reluctance, she’d quickly regained confidence. Gideon adored how comfortable she was within her own skin. What a shame it would have been to allow that vile man to destroy her?—

But he wasn’t thinking about that now. He’d saved her, and it had cost him, but the price had been worth paying. As long as she never found out that he’d entrapped her brother as a means to forcing her into marriage, this bliss could last a lifetime. What did one little untruth matter, anyway, when all concerned were better off?

“Touch yourself,” Gideon commanded roughly. Obligingly, Cora squeezed her tits like offering ripe fruits. His mouth watered, but he couldn’t reach those tempting globes. Instead, he dug his fingers into her hips and drove hard into her, forcing Cora to balance with one hand on his shoulder. She liked his muscles. He was not oblivious to the way she looked at him when she thought he didn’t notice.

“I said, touch yourself. Between your legs. Let me watch you come apart,” he ordered gruffly. Obligingly, Cora snaked her free hand down to circle the nub at the apex of her sex. Watching his shaft plunge into her wet pussy while her pretty fingers circled her clit nearly undid him. His climax built at the base of his spine.

“Every time you play piano, I’m going to think about your gorgeous fingers pleasuring yourself,” he growled. “You playing that instrument is the most erotic sight I can possibly imagine.”

“I shall have to practice more often,” she purred.

He gripped the back of Cora’s head and dragged her close, his orgasm breaking over him in a powerful wave as he kissed her cheek and said, “Practice all you want, darling. I am your instrument to command.”

She exhaled a startled breath and shattered on his cock, her inner walls tightening, squeezing, milking every drop of his come until they both melted into a boneless tangle of limbs. Cora snuggled close, half-draped over him, her nose tucked into the crook of his neck and her breath a steady, soothing rhythm. Contentment, unfamiliar and new, settled into Gideon’s bones. He lay there for a long time, awake and stroking her soft hair, her smooth skin, wondering with amazement at how well his great gamble had finally paid off.