My Bratty Wife
Chapter 241 - Two Hundred And Forty One

Chapter 241: Chapter Two Hundred And Forty One

Suzy’s touch was light, her finger tracing an idle path from one point of his shoulder to the next as she walked slowly behind his chair. He could feel the warmth of her presence, smell the faint, sweet fragrance of the lavender soap he’d used when he bathed her.

"Is that so?" she replied, her voice a low murmur that seemed to vibrate against his ear as she leaned in slightly from behind him. "You think I’m the one who might not be alright?" She paused, her lips very close to his ear now. "Am I alright, Ryan?" she asked, echoing his earlier concerned question, but her tone was different – teasing, almost challenging.

Ryan’s mind, which moments before had been occupied with murder investigations and estate documents, became a chaotic mess.

Did something offend her again? Did I say something wrong? Was my choice of words inadequate?

Her recent mood swings, a mixture of emotions he was still learning to navigate, had him perpetually on edge, terrified of inadvertently causing her distress. This predatory air she now exuded was entirely new and deeply unsettling, though not entirely unpleasant.

She rounded his chair slowly, her silk gown whispering with each step, and came to stand before him. Her earlier assertion of independence now seemed to have transformed into a quiet, confident occupation of his space.

"Yes, my love," she answered her own question, her eyes, those deep brown pools he could so easily drown in, sparkling with a bright light. "I believe I am quite alright. But," she paused, her gaze dropping meaningfully to his lips for a fleeting second before returning to his eyes, "there is a little problem."

Hearing those words, " little problem ," immediately sent a jolt of worry through Ryan, overriding his confusion. He started to rise. "What is it? Are you hurt anywhere? Is it the baby? Should I call Dr. Abernathy back?"

Suzy merely smiled, a slow, captivating smile, and placed a gentle hand on his chest, a soft but firm pressure that urged him back into his seat. "No, no, my dear. Nothing like that." Her fingers continued their distracting movement, now tracing the lapel of his coat, then moving to the fine linen of his cravat, her touch light yet sending sparks wherever it landed. "The problem," she said, her voice dropping to an almost inaudible whisper, "is that I’m starving."

Ryan was utterly perplexed. "Starving?" he repeated, his brow furrowed. "But Mrs. Madelyn sent up a substantial tray after your bath. You ate quite well, I thought. Is it a craving? Do you want something specific? Pickled walnuts? Sugared plums? Just say the word, and I’ll have the kitchens prepare anything you desire." He was already half-rising again, ready to summon a servant.

Again, Suzy’s hand, now on his arm, gently but irresistibly pushed him back down into his chair. He sank back, utterly confused, his mind struggling to keep up with her shifting moods and intentions.

"Cassandra...?" he said, his voice laced with bewilderment. This wasn’t like her usual cravings. There was something else in her eyes, something that made his pulse quicken for an entirely different reason.

She gave him that mysterious smile again. Then, with grace, she sank to her knees before him, her silk dress pooling around her on the rich carpet. She was now at eye level with his lap, her hands resting lightly, proprietarily, on his thighs. The gesture was so unexpected, so intimate in the formal setting of his study, that it stole the breath from his lungs. He could feel the warmth of her hands through the fabric of his breeches.

"What... what are you doing, Cassandra?" he asked, his voice suddenly hoarse, his composure beginning to fray. The scent of lavender and her unique, feminine fragrance enveloped him.

"Satisfying my hunger, Ryan," she murmured, her gaze locked with his, direct, open and a tender desire that made his heart stop, then restart at a gallop. Her fingers tightened ever so slightly on his thighs.

Ryan swallowed hard, his carefully constructed dam of restraint beginning to fall apart. He felt a flush creep up his neck and let a low dangerous moan.

"C-Cass-Cassandra," he stammered, his mind a blank canvas save for the intoxicating image of his wife kneeling before him, her mouth taking all of his length. He was finding increasingly difficult to resist. "We... we are in my study. Davis... he could return..."

"Mm-hmm," she hummed, a soft, throaty sound, as her mouth began a slow, deliberate journey upwards and down along his shaft, her touch light but electrifying.

She paused, looked at him, whispered, her lips curving into a slow, seductive smile, "you should be quick about deciding how to sate your wife’s... enormous appetite." She bent her head and went on her ministrations.

Just as his resolve was crumbling, his eyeballs were hitting the back of his head, his moans were filling the room, a sharp, decisive knock echoed from the study door.

Ryan froze, every muscle tensing like he’d been caught doing something wrong . He shot a panicked look at Suzy, who merely raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in her eyes at his predicament, bend over and continued.

"Who’s... who’s there?" Ryan managed to call out, his voice emerging several octaves higher and considerably shakier than usual.

"It’s Davis, Your Grace," came the aide voice from the other side of the door. "I have the quarterly estate reports you asked for."

Ryan looked down at Suzy, who was still kneeling before him, her expression a delightful mix of innocence and playful provocation. He felt trapped, flustered, and undeniably, intensely aroused.

"Can you... can you come back later, Davis?" Ryan called out, his voice strained. "I find myself... quite indisposed at the moment."

"My apologies, Your Grace," Davis replied, a hint of confusion in his tone. "But you did say they required your immediate attention. There’s a courier waiting for your seal on the land grant petition within the hour."

Ryan groaned internally. Duty. Always duty. He looked at Suzy again, a silent apology in his eyes. She stopped and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shrug, as if to say, ’Well, it was worth a try.’

"Very well, Davis," Ryan said, resigning himself to the interruption, though his body was still thrumming with an unmet need. "Enter."

Davis entered, his gaze serious as he carried a stack of documents towards the desk. He placed them neatly before the Duke. Then, he paused, his eyes noticing Ryan’s rather flushed appearance, the way his cravat seemed slightly askew, the almost feverish brightness in his eyes. The air in the study felt... different.

"Are you quite well, Your Grace?" Davis asked, his voice laced with genuine concern. "You appear a trifle... warm. It is a cool day."

Suzy who was still under the table had shifted a little and positioned herself well to attain comfortability in front of Ryan’s chair, partially shielded by the bulk of the desk. She took his shaft once again, letting her tongue range from tip, to his pole strong erection.

Ryan tried to stifle a groan that was part overwhelming arousal and part frustration. His attempt to sound composed was, he knew, a dismal failure. "No, no, Davis, I’m... I’m perfectly fine," he said, his voice coming out rushed and slightly forced.

"Just... just tired. A long morning. You can leave the documents. When I get some rest, I’ll be fine."

Davis looked at the Duke who offered him a serene smile. "Very well, Your Grace," he said, though a small frown of puzzlement remained on his face. He bowed and discreetly left the study, closing the door behind him.

The moment the door clicked shut, Ryan turned to Suzy who has stopped with a triumphant teasing glint in her eyes.

Ryan, still trying to recover his equilibrium, his heart racing, looked at her, a mixture of exasperation and adoration on his face. "Cassandra," he began, intending to ask what that was all about, perhaps even to gently scold her for nearly getting them caught in a most compromising, albeit delightful, situation.

But she cut him off, her smile widening. "I told you I was starved, Ryan," she purred, stepping closer, her hand once again finding his erection, her fingers lacing through it. "And as you can see," she added, her voice dropping to a husky whisper that promised delightful future endeavors, "I am not yet satisfied."