Wicked Desires (Wicked Affairs, Book One) Read Free Page A

jealousy that he could barely stand to see his wife walk out their door without him. Ridiculous whores like Anne VanLandingham could rouse his prick with ease. Around Clarissa, he felt every inch the failure.
    Just holding her in his arms was torture. It was as if he could feel her slipping away and he could do nothing about it. When he said he loved her, he meant every word.
    Only words of love couldn’t satisfy a woman like Clarissa. She was the type of woman who needed actions to go along with those words. Daily he feared she would seek a lover because of his inadequacies. He didn’t blame her.
    “Clarissa, perhaps you should reconsider your acquaintance with the marchioness. She married into the nobility while retaining all the crudity of her class.”
    Clarissa laughed as Michael swept her into a turn. “Don’t judge so harshly. She’s a good friend. She’ll be a duchess someday.”
    Michael considered another disparaging remark, but already he tread on unstable ground.
    “Darling, it’s so warm in here. Why don’t we stroll in the garden?” she asked.
    He turned, and in a few rotations, they came to a halt in front of the double doors leading to the balcony and the gardens below.
    “It’s a lovely night,” she said.
    “Indeed.” He entwined her delicate arm with his and placed his hand over hers, steering her down the crushed-stone pathway. Glass-encased candles lit the way into the darker reaches beyond.
    “It’s a lovely ball, don’t you think?” she asked, tilting her face up to look at him.
    “Yes.”
    “Do you remember our first kiss? It was a garden much like this.”
    “Yes. It was lovely.” What an idiot. Unable to converse with his own wife. As they moved into the darker recesses of the garden, they approached a covered gazebo. A gurgling foundation stood nearby. Clarissa’s mood seemed amenable to a kiss. He pulled her into his arms. She wrapped hers about his neck.
    His lips touched hers, much like they had the first time. Clarissa met him eagerly, opening her mouth as he pushed his tongue inside. She stepped back without breaking the kiss, urging him into the gazebo.
    Clarissa shoved him against the wall, her hands working at the fall of his trousers. Her mouth trailed kisses below his ear and down his neck, stopped only by his cravat.
    “Clarissa, this isn’t a good idea.” He gripped her shoulders. She slid away, going down in front of him, her skirts billowing out around her. In an instant, cool night air caressed his exposed manhood.
    He jerked, air rushing from his lungs. Her mouth covered his pliant prick. Her fingers toyed with his balls.
    He gritted his teeth. “Clarissa!” He hadn’t let her get close enough to realize his problem. She wasn’t going to find out tonight.
    Wet and hot, her mouth suckled him. And soft as he was, she had every inch of him nestled inside, her tongue sliding along the sensitive skin. Every nerve in his body screamed for satisfaction. Relief. Sweet release.
    He slipped a finger inside her mouth, breaking the suction. “My God, Clarissa, anyone could come along.” He grabbed her upper arms and hoisted her up. He then bent to the task of straightening his trousers.
    “I’m sorry. You’ve always enjoyed it before.” Her eyes filled with tears. She turned away without another word and hurried up the path.
    “Clarissa,” he said, his words spilling softly into the night air.
    He leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Still nothing. His wife, on her knees in front of him, his cock in her mouth, and the betraying manhood hadn’t responded. “Shit.”
    He palmed his cock through his trousers and rubbed a few times, considered masturbating right there in the dark, but then thought better of it. He’d take Clarissa home and then go to Madame DuPuis’ where he could relax and drink and at least recline while he climaxed. All the while thinking of Clarissa’s sweet mouth and tongue licking the cum from the end of his