EPILOGUE
Lilly sunk back down on Ryan’s aching cock, rolling her hips with the ebb and flow of the waves beneath them.
“Can I release my hands?” Ryan pleaded.
Thankfully the newlyweds had not gotten seasick on the journey from England to America, because they had spent a great deal of the time lying horizontally and occasionally prostrate.
Lilly had wanted to try everything that the Bluebells had suggested. She was particularly liking having all of the control over her handsome husband.
She squeezed her inner muscles raking her nails down his chest, “I don’t think so.”
Grinding her hips in a circular pattern, Lilly sat up and began to play with her breasts for him. Tracing patterns on their milky softness, and then pulling on her aching nipples until her head dropped back on its own accord.
“I get to choose the next game!” Ryan ground out.
Lilly flipped her head up, very interested, “Really, what did you have in mind?”
“Something with you tied down, preferably,” he grumbled.
Lilly kept up her rhythm, but she had to admit the idea has merit, “Keep talking.”
He looked at her in surprise. Was this turning her on?
“I would make sure that you could not move a muscle,” his voice was dark.
Lilly felt something new in the pit of her stomach.
He snapped the cravat she had tied around his wrists and grabbed her breasts.
“I would leave these exposed so that I could worship them as they truly deserve to be worshiped.”
Lilly felt her heart skip a beat, “Do people do that?”
His gaze was hot and didn’t break with hers, “I don’t give a damn what people do.”
He slid a hand from her breast to her core, “But this, Lilly, you would never doubt for any moment that this was mine. I would make you come so many times that you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day. I would worship you with my mouth, my hands, my body, with everything that I am. But it would be on my terms and not on yours.”
Lilly’s eyes were as wide as platters, “Yes,” she agreed.
“Yes?” a slow smile started to spread across his face.
“Yes, to your wicked eyes, your wicked mouth, your wicked hands, your wicked ideas, and most certainly your wicked plan.”
Ryan thrust up into her, grabbing her hips, reminding Lilly that her game wasn’t over.
With a raw cry, Lilly ground into him, her breasts scraping against the hair on his chest intensifying the moment. Every thrust, sending them closer and closer until they both shattered into a million pieces.
He wiped her damp hair off her forehead.
She lifted her head weakly, “Am I too heavy?”
He laughed, shaking her body in the process, “Not even close. It is a burden that I will always be happy to bear, my love.
“I love you, Ryan,” she whispered against his neck and went to sleep, secure in the safety of his arms.
Author Note:
Lillian and Ryan have gone off to America on their honeymoon. But Mr. Harris with the war office is still needing assistance. Can Juliana and Samantha figure out the mystery surrounding that French nursery rhyme?
Jack Rattenbury was introduced in Lovely Lillian as a smuggler. His appearance in this story is purely fictional. But his existence is not. Jack was born in 1778 and did indeed marry a young woman named Anna. To learn more about him and his illustrious career: Go to
Dedication:
I am so very thankful to each person that has picked up my stories. For the words of encouragement, and the love that has come from around the world, I am truly blessed. I want to extend a special thank you to Clarissa, Lidia, Liz & Fallen Angel for reading the first drafts. You have my heart.