Her Missing Marquess

by Scott, Scarlett

  Better. She rather enjoyed this power over him.

  She parted her legs a fraction, just enough to grant him a glimpse. “I will let you pleasure me on one condition.”

  His gaze was on the apex of her thighs. Hungry. “Name it.”

  “I am the only one who spends tonight. And afterward, we will continue dinner, and I will retire to my chamber. Alone.” She did not know where she had found the strength to issue such a demand, but she could not deny the surge of delicious need it gave her.

  “Agreed,” he ground out.

  She parted her thighs.

  He was upon her in an instant, his hands flattening on her flesh, spreading her wider. His gaze was hot, burning, like a touch. She liked his eyes on her. She wondered what he saw and tried to imagine: a contrast of black skirts, pale thighs, and wet, pink flesh.

  Her heart pounded and so did her core as she watched him, awaiting his next move. His head dipped closer, but still he did not touch her with his mouth. Instead, he inhaled deeply, as if he were mesmerized by the scent of her excitement.

  “I love your cunny,” he told her softly. “So soaked for me, darling. So hungry.”

  Slowly, he stroked her with his fingers, stopping when he reached her folds. Gently, he parted her with his thumbs, holding her open. He pursed his lips and blew a puff of air over her pearl.

  His teasing was agony. Sweet, delicious agony. Her nipples were hard, her breasts heavy and aching. She scooted forward in an effort to get the contact she wanted, but he withdrew, a knowing smile on his lips.

  “So impatient, Nellie.” He blew another stream of air over her. “You made me beg, and now it is your turn.”

  How quickly, how easily he had turned the tables on her. And was that not the way of things with them? Just when she believed she had thwarted him, he made her want him and she became a slave to her need.

  “I want your tongue, Jack,” she said. “Give it to me.”

  “Beg me.” He glanced up at her, his grin wicked.

  She continued to hold her skirts trapped with one hand, and with the other, she reached for him. Her fingers sank into his silky hair. “Please give me what I want.”

  “With pleasure.”

  He licked her then. One slow swipe on her pearl. A moan stole from her. It was so good, sensation rocketing through her. He flicked his tongue over her, up and down, focusing upon the needy bud at her center. The sounds of him pleasuring her heightened her excitement.

  “So wet for me.” He kissed her pearl, then sucked it into his mouth. “So damn delicious. Whose cunny is this, Nellie?”

  “Mine.”

  He released her, keeping his mouth near but denying her the pleasure he had just been bestowing. “Wrong answer, love.”

  She released a shuddering breath. She was aching—trembling—with desire. But this was a battle between them. “Do it, damn you.”

  “Not until you tell me.” He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh instead.

  She was quaking now. Dripping. Mindless. Desperate.

  “Yours,” she said at last, surrendering to him, to pleasure. “My cunny is yours.”

  Because it was true. She had never felt this way for any other man. As if she would die if she did not have his touch, his kiss, his tongue.

  He gave it to her. On a low growl of triumph, he licked her seam. Then he caught her pearl between his teeth and gave her a nip that had her hips jumping and her back arching. Bliss shot through her, beginning in her core and blasting outward.

  She raked her fingers through his hair and pressed herself into his face. He alternated between little licks and long sucks, pleasuring her with that wicked mouth she loved so well. She grew wetter still. He moaned as he buried his tongue inside her, thrusting again and again. And she rode his tongue the way she wanted to ride his cock, pressing his head to the apex of her thighs.

  She wanted to coat his face with her. She wanted to mark him. She wanted him to go to bed with her on his lips and his cock hard and aching, wishing he could plunge it inside her. She wanted him to writhe in his big bed.

  A helpless moan escaped her as she undulated against him.

  Her head fell back. Her eyes closed, and she gave herself over to sensation.

  Suddenly, she was talking. Babbling. Saying wicked, forbidden things. “Later, when you are in bed all alone, I want you to take your big, thick cock in your hand and think of me. I want you to come hard, thinking about the way I tasted and how desperate you were to have me on your tongue. But it will only be your hand you are fucking, Jack. Not this cunny.”

  Her taunts made him wild. He rubbed his face over her folds and attacked her pearl with almost vicious deliberation. Sucking, using his teeth. When he plunged two fingers inside her, thrusting them in and out in delicious friction, she lost the tentative hold she had on her control.

  She thrust against him one more time. He sucked her and curled his fingers, and she cried out as her release exploded. She clenched on him, bringing him deeper, white-hot bliss shooting from her center and washing over every part of her. Even her toes curled in her heels.

  Her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving from the force of her climax. As the last ripples of pleasure rocked through her, he released her pearl and withdrew his fingers. They glistened with the evidence of her spend. Catching her gaze, he swirled them over her painfully sensitive bud.

  He was going to make her come again.

  Just to prove to them both how little restraint she had when it came to him. As if she needed the proof. His lips were swollen and wet.

  “Mine,” he rasped, increasing his pressure.

  She bit her lip, determined to ride out whatever he would give her but to deny him the satisfaction of admitting just how thoroughly he owned her once more. He moved faster.

  “So pretty and pink and wet,” he said. “For me. All for me.”

  He moved faster.

  She was on the edge already. Desperate for another taste of what only he could give her. But she was stubborn. She would not allow him to win.

  As he worked her pearl with his right hand, he swiped over her folds with his left forefinger, parting her. He slid it back inside her passage and she clenched on him instantly, a sigh leaving her. She bit her lip harder.

  “Every part of you is mine, Nellie.” He withdrew his finger, then slid it deeper, adding a second finger, then a third.

  She jerked at the sensation. Thrilling. Her nerves were alive. On fire. She was on fire. Coming apart. She held her breath as he worked her.

  She wanted more.

  “Say it, Nellie,” he gritted. “Every part of you is mine. Say you want me. That you want me to fuck you and fill you until you scream.”

  She could not say it. Because she was beyond words. Because he slid his fingers deeper still, and his possession of her was so intense, she could scarcely even breathe. He rubbed her bud, and she came again.

  Stronger than before, her body tightening, and she was soaring. Flying. Coming apart.

  She moaned his name as she spent against his hand, as she clenched on his fingers. As he proved to them both just how right he was. About her. About the way she felt for him. About everything. She was stretched and filled and throbbing, and no matter how much she wanted to resist him, she would never stop wanting him.

  Damn his beautiful hide.

  Not that she would admit it.

  “You were right about one thing,” she told him instead in the aftermath of the climaxes he had given her. She dropped her skirts back into place. “You made me forget all about the mutton pie.”

  The smile he gave her melted some of the ice in her heart. “You are bloody well right I did.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Thirteen days to convince his wife to remain his wife.

  Jack sighed and grasped his cock. Since last night at dinner, he had been sporting a perpetual erection. And Nell had taken all the pleasure he had given her and promptly fled to the sanctity of her chamber. He had taken a
cold bath to dampen his ardor. It had not worked.

  He had then lain alone in his bed, gripping himself to thoughts of a golden-haired siren who owned his heart. Her cunny had been so sweet on his tongue. Sweeter than honey. And watching her come undone had been an erotic art all its own. She had been as desperate for him as he was for her, undulating against him, thrusting herself into his mouth.

  How glorious she had been, making him beg to pleasure her. And how satisfying it had been to show her she was just as mindless for him as he was for her. The attraction between them had always been there, burning hot. Threatening to consume. And he could not help but to feel if he continued wearing down her resistance by appealing to her desires, he could perhaps find his way back to her heart.

  Still, he did not seem any closer to convincing her to end this divorce nonsense by this morning’s bright light than he had been last night when he had been thrashing her dripping cunny with his tongue.

  His ballocks tightened as remembrance hit him. Her taunting words returned to him now.

  It will only be your hand you are fucking, Jack. Not this cunny.

  Damn her.

  He needed release, and it would seem he was the only one willing to provide it at the moment. But he would bide his time. He would do whatever she wished. And he would seek out every opportunity to tear down her walls with lovemaking.

  He could not bite back his moan as he thought of her on the dining room table, her legs spread, completely on display for him. Of the way she had rocked against him, until she had commanded all his senses. Of the slickness of her desire coating his tongue.

  A bead of mettle leaked from the tip of his cock as he stroked harder. He imagined fucking her cunny hard, getting himself all wet and slippery with her juices. He imagined her moaning beneath him, wanting more. He would go slowly at first, feeding her his cock in shallow thrusts…

  “Fuck,” he cried out as he spent, his seed spurting all over his abdomen in thick jets. He tightened his grip as the last of his climax thundered through him.

  His heart was pounding, his breaths uneven. She had turned him into a slavering, lust-ridden beast. Jack’s head fell back against his pillows.

  Suddenly, the door adjoining his chamber to Nell’s flew open.

  “Jack? Is something amiss?” she asked, sweeping into the chamber, wearing nothing more than her night rail.

  He did not bother to cover himself.

  Her eyes went wide as she stopped, taking in the scene before her. “Oh!”

  He was sure he looked like a satyr, lying there with his limp cock and his seed coating his belly. “Close the door, if you please,” he told her.

  “I…forgive me.” Her cheeks went red. She closed the door as he had asked. “I ought to have knocked first. It is merely that I heard a cry…”

  He hoped to hell her lady’s maid was not next door, but if she was, the last thing he wanted was for the poor woman to get a peek at his depravity.

  “I was following my lady’s orders,” he told her calmly.

  And already, his much-abused prick was twitching back to life now that Nell was almost within reach once more.

  She swallowed, her gaze dipping to his burgeoning cockstand. “My orders?”

  “Your orders,” he agreed, stroking himself once more. “I believe your instructions were to take my cock in hand and think of you. Were they not, Nell?”

  Her lips opened, then closed. “I may have said something similar.”

  “Oh, you did.” He smiled at her, stroking again. “You told me you wanted me to come hard, thinking about the way you tasted and how desperate I was to have you on my tongue. And I did that, Nellie. I stroked myself just like this, and I thought about how your cunny was like nectar on my tongue, and I thought about how you rode my face and how much you liked it—”

  “Stop!” Her cheeks darkened, and even her ears went red. “Do not continue, you scoundrel. That was perfectly depraved of you to do in the midst of dinner. All of it.”

  He was hard once more. If she crossed the room and sat on his cock, he would fuck her silly and come all over again. She was a witch.

  “Do you know what else I thought about, Nellie?” he continued, ignoring her protestations. “I thought about fucking you. About putting my cock inside you, and how tight and hot you would be.”

  “Jack!” Her eyes were wide.

  He had shocked her with his vulgarity. But she was also excited. He could see it in the way she bit her lip. He stopped stroking himself and crooked a finger at her. “Come here.”

  To his utter shock, she obeyed him. She moved slowly, gracefully across the chamber.

  “This is all your fault, Nellie, and now you are going to have to do penance,” he told her.

  She licked her lips, desire making her expression go slack. “What do you want from me?”

  “You made this mess,” he told her, knowing it was a risk. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Knowing he was being ridiculously, foolishly bold. But knowing he had to do everything in his power to win this woman for good. And the only way it seemed he could reach her was through desire. He was changing tactics. This siege had just become a sensual onslaught.

  Thirteen days.

  That was all he had left.

  Nell knew she should never have crossed the boundary separating her chamber from his. But she had risen with the intention of reading for a few minutes before ringing for her lady’s maid when she heard Jack’s shout. She had been worried for him. Before she’d had a chance to ponder the wisdom of her actions, her feet had been instinctively flying, taking her to him.

  She had never expected to see the sight which was before her now.

  Jack, naked, the proof of what he had been doing just prior to her interruption on his taut stomach. And what had she done? Lingered. She had ventured nearer. She had allowed her traitorous body to overrule her head.

  His wicked words and the sight of him stroking his thick cock into readiness once more made her ache.

  “Well, Nellie?” His low voice cut through her troubled musings, prodding her. “What are you going to do?”

  As he asked the question, he grasped himself at the root.

  She could not take her eyes off him.

  She was going to do something very, very bad. Something she ought not to be doing. But when had she ever done what she ought to where Jack was concerned? He made her weak, and he made her want him. And he always would.

  She crawled onto his bed and moved toward him on all fours. Last night, he had ruined dinner when he had given her two of the most exquisite orgasms of her life. Now, it was time for her to return the favor.

  “Stop touching yourself,” she ordered him as she reached his side.

  He lay on his back in the rumpled bedclothes, sleepy and gorgeous. And naked.

  Jack’s body was all masculine, almost sinister in its perfection. Long legs dappled with dark hair, broad shoulders, lean hips, strong arms. His stomach was a series of muscle slabs, alive with each movement, every breath. The shadow of his whiskers returning on his jaw excited her. So did the way he watched her with his emerald stare. So did the knowledge that he had been thinking about her, fantasizing about all the sinful things he would do to her, when he had lost control and spent.

  He released his cock, at last doing as she had asked. She settled herself between his thighs.

  “Nellie? What are you doing?” he rasped.

  There was a tremble in his voice, the suggestion he did not altogether trust her.

  Good.

  She did not want him to be able to predict what she would do next. She wanted all the power this morning. All the control.

  “Cleaning my mess,” she told him before planting her palms in the soft bed linens alongside his hips and lowering her head toward him.

  She had forgotten how much she loved the way he tasted. How much she had loved his cock in her mouth, how she had reveled in torturing him until he spent. But she recalled it
now. The flesh between her legs was heavy and pulsing with remembered awareness.

  “Fucking hell,” he said on a guttural moan.

  Holding his stare, she licked a path directly to the base of his cock. Then she ran her tongue down the velvety length of him, running it around the head. She pressed it to the slit where a white drop had gathered, and grasped him in her hand, stroking.

  It all came back to her. How to make him wild. How to touch him. What he liked. What made him jerk his hips to get deeper down her throat.

  She gripped him and massaged his heavy ballocks, licking the tip before withdrawing her mouth. Just enough to tantalize him. Just enough to make him groan.

  “Beg me,” she whispered, licking her lips.

  She still tasted him. And she was greedy. She wanted more. But she also wanted to make him work for it. She wanted him as wild as she had been last night. Two could play at this game. And she would emerge the victor.

  “Suck my cock,” he gritted, his jaw clenched from the effort to restrain himself.

  She moved her hand up and down his shaft, but denied him her mouth. “I said beg.”

  Nell could not quell the knowing smile on her lips.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Witch.”

  He was being stubborn. Fine. She had nothing else to amuse her this morning save his travel reminiscences. And as interesting as his account of Constantinople was, she would far prefer this.

  “Do you know what I think, Jack?” She ran her thumb over his cockhead. “I think you want me to suck your big, hard cock until you spend down my throat. I think you want my lips wrapped around you—”

  “Please,” he burst out, interrupting her. “Take me in your mouth.”

  Her smile grew. Anticipation swelled along with need. She felt powerful. She was controlling this, and she was doing what gave her pleasure. Making him weak and desperate with lust gave her that. She relished the way she could bring him low.

  Relished making him beg.

  She did not make either of them wait any longer. She lowered her head and took as much of him as she could. The moan wrung from his lips made her cunny pulse. She was already slick with desire, and they had scarcely even proceeded. He felt good in her mouth. She stretched her lips over her teeth and stroked him with her lips as she sucked. Simultaneously, she massaged his ballocks and gripped his root.