Page 114 of The Unplanned Wedding

Then he kisses me gently, tenderly, in a way he’s never kissed me before. It’s the kiss of a husband. The kiss of a man reaffirming his commitment. The kiss of someone who’s in love.He’s in love with me. My master loves me. My husband adores me.He communicates all of that with the meeting ofour lips. And when he pulls away, my head spins with the sensations that crowd my mind. He pushes his door open, comes around, and gets mine. Then he bends and hauls me up in his arms.

"Knox," I protest.

He laughs. "Welcome to Cumbria, baby."

50

Knox

Her cheeks flush, and she flicks a glance toward the couple who live on the grounds and keep this place in working condition all year around. They smile at both of us, not put out at all by my affectionate display. I messaged ahead to let them know I’d be bringing my wife with me.

“This is Earnest and Agatha the caretakers and this is my wife June,” I introduce them.

"Welcome back, Mr. Davenport. A pleasure Mrs. Davenport." Earnest nods. "I’ll get the bags."

"Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Davenport." Agatha holds out her hand.

"It’s June," my wife protests in her sweet voice.

Amy’s features soften. "June." She nods.

"Lovely to you meet you too." My wife squeezes her hand then releases it.

“We are so happy to see the both of you," Agatha turns to me. "The place is ready for you. The fridge and the pantry are stocked. We’ve ensured you'll have the supplies yourequested."

"Thanks, Agatha."

I walk past her and follow Earnest, who’s gone ahead with the bags.

The Cumbria home was inherited by Arthur from his grandfather. He never used it, but my grandmother loved it. She came here often with her children, my father, and his brothers. Probably to get away from Arthur’s overbearing presence, is my personal theory about that. After her death, it wasn’t used much. Until I needed a place to recuperate. Now, I carry my wife over the threshold and into the grand hallway.

"Wow," She takes in the branching staircase that sweeps up to divide into two on the second floor. High above us, the stained glass set into the roof of the house lets in jeweled hues of sunlight. In the center of the space is a table with a vase in which blue and pink flowers are arranged.

"Those flowers— They’re forget-me-nots and dahlias. The same flowers I had in my wedding bouquet." She looks up at me. "You had this done for me?"

I take in her gorgeous, precious features. "I’ll do anything for you, wife; you know that don’t you?"

She sniffs. "You’re spoiling me."

"I’m giving you everything you deserve, baby." I bend and kiss her forehead. And when she tips up her chin, I oblige her with a kiss. A meeting of lips and tongue and breath sweeps through me, turning my heart to putty and my cock to titanium. I soften the kiss and pull back.

She pouts. "I want more."

"That was a husband’s kiss. But you’ll have to earn your Master’s, baby."

"Oh." Her breathing grows choppy. Her pupils dilate. "What do you want me to do, Sir?"

My pulse rate accelerates. The blood pumps in my veins. The need radiates out from my groin and entwines with the love in my chest. "Everything, sweet girl. I want you to do everything."

She swallows. "Please, show me how to please you, Sir."

"So eager, hmm?" I allow my lips to twitch.

She nods. "I’ll do anything you want, Sir. Anything."

I allow myself a small smile. "Such a willing little slut you are, wife."

"I am." She reaches up and winds her hand around my neck. "I revel in being your slut. I love being your wife. I love you so much, Sir."

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