Free Her Perfect Match by Jess Michaels Page A

wife, Jocelyn. She comes from a good family of breeding and standing. She is the Duke of Stenbrook’s youngest.”
    Vivien’s lips pursed. “Of course she is,” she breathed, her voice little more than a whisper.
    Benedict shrugged. “And though she certainly fit the description of a perfect match for my brother on paper, I do not think that is what drew them. From the first moment he laid eyes on her a year ago, anyone could see he was smitten. In fact, I would say it took him less than a month to fall deeply in love with the girl.”
    Vivien’s expression did not change and he could read nothing of her reaction to that declaration. “And what of the wife? Is she equally as devoted?”
    Benedict nodded. “She seems to be. I do not think he enters a room that she isn’t tracking him with her gaze. They seem to be a very happy match indeed.”
    Vivien was curiously silent for a long moment before she set her half-empty plate aside and wiped her hands on her napkin. “Then I offer them my most sincere felicitations for their union,” she said. “Although I assume he must be furious to know you are here with me.”
    Benedict pursed his lips. “I suppose he might disapprove if he knew.”
    She laughed. “Don’t you think he will know by tomorrow if he does not already? I would think your brother to be quite resourceful about such things.”
    Benedict leaned forward. He could see this subject troubled her, a fact he did not understand. “If there is to be trouble tomorrow, Vivien, than I shall handle it tomorrow. I would rather live in this moment while I have it.”
    He leaned forward to kiss her and in an instant her troubles seemed to fade. She cupped his cheeks and returned the kiss with an abandon that spoke of her need for him.
    He dragged her to her feet and motioned for the carriage. As he drew back, he smiled.
    “What I would like to do next requires a bit of privacy.”
    She did not refuse him, but simply followed him to the vehicle and allowed him to help her inside. He gave his driver a brief directive, then joined her and shut and locked the door. She was on his side of the carriage in an instant and the kiss that had begun so sweetly outside immediately spiraled out of control.
    She tore at his shirt, desperate in her need to touch him. He doubted he was any better, ratcheting her skirts to her waist, reaching between her legs to touch her where he found her deliciously wet already.
    She sighed as he stroked her entrance and the fluttering movements of her hands ceased.
    “I have been ready for you since I first saw you in the bookstore,” she moaned as he breached her with one finger, two, three.
    He blinked as an image filled his mind of throwing her against the bookshelf in the very proper shop and fucking her for all to see. The idea excited him and he drove into her harder, loving the flex of her sheath around his fingers as she gasped. He wanted that same flex about his cock, to make her come while he looked into her face in the increasing darkness of the carriage.
    She seemed to read his thoughts, for she fumbled for his trouser buttons, unfastening them with little finesse. He lifted her when she was finished and his hard, ready cock bobbed free of the confines of his breeches. She moaned as he positioned her above him and then lowered herself, inch after wet, hot inch, over him.
    She flexed as she took him inside, massaging him wickedly as her body stretched to accommodate his length. He had never been so pleased by a woman’s body, not before her nor since their last parting. And he had been punished greatly for that obsession. Even long after she was gone, in his every erotic dream, it was her pussy he took. Now, as he filled her, reality left those dreams far behind.
    He flexed his hips to take the last inch of space within her and for a moment they sat perfectly still, staring at each other in the gathering darkness of dusk, panting with pleasure at the joining of their bodies.
    He