He’d never have imagined it of her. Perhaps his hopes for this fortnight were not in vain.

Lipscombe increased the pace of his thrusts and Vivi’s hand kept time with him. When the viscount pinched his wife’s teats, Vivi followed suit with her own breasts.

Tucker couldn’t take just watching any more. He undid the flap of his breeches and pulled out his painfully hard shaft, then stroked himself while he watched the scandalous scene before him.

Lady Lipscombe let out a scream of pleasure. Moments later, her husband followed her into bliss with his own shout of release. Vivi had yet to find hers, however. When the viscount carried his little wife back into their suite, Tucker’s wife still stood on the portico, frenziedly rubbing against her nubbin with a tortured look on her face.

Could she not achieve her petite mort on her own? Then again, now that Tucker thought about it, he wasn’t entirely certain she’d ever experienced such pleasure. Not really. She always smiled afterward and told him how lovely it had been, but was she ever in rapture from his touches? Not that he could recall. This was a lapse he’d have to rectify. Soon. Not to mention often.

Yet here, standing out in the open air where anyone might chance upon her from down in the gardens or standing out on their own porticos, she was attempting to bring herself to a pleasure she’d never known before. Tucker stood back and watched, careful not to disturb her studied efforts as he wanked his yard.

Then finally, her breath came out in wild little gusts and soft, high-pitched sounds came from her throat. Vivi’s eyes rolled back in her head and she closed them, then leaned back against the wall as her hands came to rest by her sides.

Magnificent. Tucker couldn’t wait to see her spend like that when he’d brought her to it.