Her Missing Marquess

by Scott, Scarlett

  But her objection was unnecessary, because both of them knew damn well that she was.

  “You saw all of my things removed to the attics,” he pressed. “And yet not this box. Why?”

  “I told you, I had forgotten where I kept them,” she muttered, picking up the forget-me-nots and making a low sound when they broke apart. “Oh, curse you, they are ruined.”

  He placed a hand over hers, stilling her in her frantic actions. “Why should you care if they are ruined?”

  She stiffened. “They were pretty.”

  But her eyes told a different story. They were luminous with unshed tears.

  “You kept them,” he said, “all this time.”

  “It means nothing,” she whispered.

  “Wrong, my love.” He laced their fingers together. “It means everything.”

  She swallowed, shaking her head. “No, Jack. This changes nothing. I…these were mementos of a better time. A time that was the happiest of my life. But that time is gone.”

  The flames of his hope burned ever brighter.

  “I am not gone, and you are not gone.” He squeezed her fingers. “I am here. You are here. We are here.”

  “We cannot return to that time.”

  “Why should we want to when what we have now can be so much more?” He searched her gaze, seeing her inner struggle.

  Realization hit him then, with the force of a derailed locomotive.

  All this time, he had believed the greatest war she waged was against him. And in truth, it had been against herself. She did not just want him in her bed. She also felt something for him. Regardless of how much she liked to pretend she did not, Jack knew Nell, and he knew she would never preserve all those objects within reach unless they meant something to her. Unless he meant something to her.

  You have not won yet, Sidmouth, he thought, triumphant at this newfound knowledge. Nellie is my woman, my wife. And her heart has not forgotten me any more than her body has.

  “Please.” Her lower lip trembled. “Please, Jack, leave me be. I cannot do this with you. Not here, not like this.”

  Fuck.

  That.

  They were doing this. To hell with breakfast. To hell with forcing her to dress. To hell with the rest of the memories of their courtship spilled over the floor. To hell with anything else and to bloody perdition with anyone who was not Nellie and anyone who dared to interrupt.

  “You can.” He stood, tugging on her hand until she stood along with him, her expression uncertain. Torn. “I am not going anywhere, Nellie. Not ever. I will court you anew. I will buy you a new box, write you new letters, pick you new flowers.”

  “I do not want to be courted.”

  She did, and they both knew it.

  “You deserve to be courted. And by a better man than the one who courted you then.” He tugged her body into his. “By a man who has lived without you long enough to know he never wants to live without you again.”

  Her body was soft and willing against his, all womanly curves. Her nipples were hard, poking into his chest. The jet discs of her pupils were wide. Her lips parted. And she could deny it all she liked, but he knew all the subtle responses of her body. She wanted him.

  “I do not want any of that,” she said, remaining stubborn as ever.

  “Prove it to me,” he dared her, knowing the surest way to prod her into action was to test her pride. “Walk away.”

  Before she could extricate herself from his embrace, however, he acted swiftly. His mouth crashed down on hers. Hard. He kissed her with all the fury and the hope and the love warring within. He bit the luscious lower lip she so often worried with her teeth. Then he nipped the sweet bow in the upper for good measure.

  She moaned into his kiss, her arms going around his neck. He wasted no time in sliding his tongue into her mouth and tasting her. Her response to him was fervent, as always. She could deny him with her words all she wanted, but her body did not lie. Her body was his. Her heart would be too. He vowed it.

  He kissed her harder, angling his mouth over hers, putting all his emotions into this connection of their lips and tongues. But her palms crept to his shoulders, and she planted them there, pushing him away.

  He jerked his mouth from hers, ending the kiss.

  “Go on,” he urged her, feeling as raw as he had ever felt since his return. His heart was nothing but an inflamed, throbbing organ in his chest. He wanted her so badly, loved her so much, but she was forever denying him and pushing him away. “Walk away from me now, Nellie. Do it.”

  “Damn you, Jack,” she cried out. “Why do you insist upon torturing me?”

  “Because our marriage is worth saving. Our love is worth saving.” He paused, searching her gaze, hoping she would see how sincere he was. “Because I will not let you leave me without putting up one hell of a fight, Nellie. You are my wife. Mine. Whatever you have with Sidmouth cannot compare. I refuse to believe it.”

  Instead of answering him, she yanked his head down and kissed him again. He was on fire for her. He had not intended to enter her chamber and kiss her. Hell, he had not even intended to touch her beyond the requirements of playing lady’s maid. But now that he had, he could not stop. Seeing the careful way she had preserved their courtship had moved him.

  And now, he had to have her.

  All his good intentions fled as he walked them across her chamber, meeting her kiss for kiss, toward her bed. His cock was already at attention, hard and throbbing, his ballocks drawn tight. He was ready, so ready for her. And if the way she kissed him back was any indication, she was similarly ready for him.

  He was so intent upon kissing her that he had not realized he had already moved them across the chamber until he could not move her any farther. They lost their balance as one and fell to the bed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nell fell on her back, Jack landing atop her on the pliant softness of her mattress. He caught the bulk of his frame on his forearms to keep from crushing her with his big body. But in that moment, she did not care if he pinned her down with his weight. She did not want gentlemanly concern or consideration. She wanted raw, unrestrained.

  She wanted him to shag her senseless.

  “Have I hurt you?” he asked breathlessly, looking down at her with such tenderness in his expression, her heart gave a pang. “Forgive me, love. I was so lost in you, I had not realized we were approaching the bed until it was too late.”

  She had been every bit as lost in him, but she dared not admit it aloud. She had once more found herself unable to resist him though she knew she should. Her heart had never been more confused. Her body, however, was quite certain of what it wanted.

  Jack.

  Always, only Jack.

  “You did not hurt me,” she reassured him at last. “Not this time.”

  “Nor ever again.” He kissed her swiftly. “I promise you.”

  He had promised her before, and look what had happened.

  She did not dare believe him. But it was not his tenderness or his promise she wanted now. It was his body. Her resistance had fled the moment he had kissed her. Perhaps even before that.

  She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. His lips were softer than velvet, hot and firm. Commanding and coaxing and owning. She gave herself up to the meeting of lips and tongue and teeth. Her senses were abuzz. The heavy ridge of his cock nestled in the apex of her thighs. He was every bit as ready for her as she was for him.

  She was already soaked and throbbing. She rolled her hips beneath his, seeking friction to alleviate her ache. But there was only one solution for what ailed her, and she knew what it was.

  Nell slid her fingers into his hair and grasped it, tugging until he lifted his head, breaking the kiss. “Take off your clothes.”

  On a growl, he did as she commanded, tearing at all the layers of his garments. He had been dressed for breakfast. Handsome and debonair. And now he was wild and savage. His eyes were dark with stormy passion. She helped hi
m with his waistcoat and shirt. Together, they made short work of his trousers and smalls until he was naked at last.

  His body was a wonder. So masculine, so magnificent. She caressed his chest, pressed kisses to the walls of muscle. Flicked her tongue over his skin to taste him.

  “I want you naked,” he said, tugging at the belt on her dressing gown.

  She wanted to be naked, too.

  “Yes,” she agreed, taking her hands from him only to aid in freeing herself of the silken robe and its line of buttons.

  They were both completely nude, their bodies intertwined in the way of old lovers. Her body knew his so well. His mouth feathered over hers in light, teasing kisses as his hands cupped her breasts. He plucked at her nipples, then rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers.

  With a frustrated growl, she tried to deepen the kiss. But Jack was once more in control when she had already lost all hope of restraint. He drew back, looking down at her.

  “So impatient and greedy,” he said, licking his lips as if he relished the taste of her. “Slowly, Nellie. I want to enjoy this.”

  How like him to stoke the fires and then take his time.

  But when he lowered his head to suck a nipple into his mouth, she forgot to care. White-hot desire shot to her core. The sight of his handsome face nestled against her breast was at once heart-rending and erotic. She could not bear to watch him pleasure her, and yet neither could she look away.

  He sucked harder, then gently bit, catching the peek between his teeth and tugging. Dear God, she was going to melt before he even slid inside her. She reached between their bodies, her fingers unerringly finding his cock. She grasped him, stroking from root to tip, gratified when he made a low hum of approval and flicked his tongue over her nipple.

  She wanted him inside her so badly.

  It was wrong, and she knew it. All wrong. She had told herself she would not succumb to her desires again. What a liar she was, to herself, to everyone around her. How could she ever resist this man? She could not, and that was the problem.

  Resisting him had been easy when he had been halfway across the world, out of reach. Now that he returned, she was as desperate as she had ever been. Except, if anything, the time and distance had made her more desperate for him. Hungrier.

  Jack turned his attention to her other breast, cupping the one he had just tortured in the hot palm of his hand while he suckled the other. She stroked him hard, undulating against him, seeking to get him where she wanted him most.

  He took her wrist in a gentle grip and removed her hand, flicking his tongue in lazy circles around her nipple. “Minx. If you do not stop touching me like that, I will not be able to make this last.”

  “I do not want it to last.” She was already breathless. Her pearl throbbed with the need to be touched.

  So she stroked herself instead, moaning when she grazed over the swollen bud. She was so slick for him. Her own need heightened her desire. She was at his mercy and she liked it. She was a quivering, desperate creature. A slave to her own lust.

  But he caught her wrist once more, removing her hand before she could take herself to the edge.

  “Not yet, darling,” he said.

  “I can touch myself if you will not,” she groused. “I am desperately ready for you, Jack. So wet.”

  His nostrils flared, and against her, his cock twitched, evidence he was not as in control as he pretended. “You cannot touch yourself unless I give you permission. Your cunny is mine. You have not already forgotten, have you?”

  Dear heavens.

  His wicked words sent another pulse of liquid desire to her core.

  “I lied,” she told him, enjoying their games, the battle for power and control between them. “I lied when I told you my cunny was yours, just because I wanted your mouth on me.”

  “Is that so?”

  She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Yes. It is mine, Jack. Not yours. Never yours.”

  He raised her fingers to his mouth, his gaze never wavering from hers. Her fingers were wet with her juices. He wrapped his lips around them and sucked, lashing her with his tongue, sucking every last drop of her up.

  “Your cunny tastes like it is mine, Nellie,” he said, his voice low.

  What could she say to that? Her wits were too scattered to form a response. He was undoing her. Slowly and with sweet, seductive promise.

  He sucked her fingers again, humming his approval. “I want more.”

  She wanted him to have more, too. She wanted his tongue on her, in her. Anything he wanted to do to her, she wanted it all. And then she wanted it again.

  That was how mad her need for him made her.

  He settled between her legs, caressing her inner thighs and spreading her wide. She wondered if he would tease her again as he had the last time, tormenting her until she had surrendered.

  “Your cunny looks like mine too, Nellie,” he murmured, his heated gaze devouring her most intimate flesh.

  She whimpered as he trailed his forefinger up her seam in the ghost of a touch. It was not enough pressure. Not enough. She arched into him, seeking more. But he avoided her pearl.

  Instead, he cupped her mound. It was such a carnal way of claiming her, and she knew she should be shocked, but the action only made her want him more. She thrust against his palm on a moan.

  “Your cunny feels like mine,” he said. “Are you sure it is not mine?”

  “Sure,” she bit out, clinging to the last remaining shred of her pride.

  “I am going to have to have another taste. Just one,” he said, removing his hand and trailing his finger back down her seam. At her entrance, he paused, caressing her with light, circular motions that stoked her frenzy. “One long, slow lick up your center. Mayhap a taste of your pearl. That should give me the answer I need. What do you think, darling?”

  She thought she was going to explode if he did not pleasure her soon.

  “Do it,” she gritted.

  “Hmm.” He continued his gentle circles around her channel, slowly, deliciously taunting. “I think you should ask me nicely, Nellie.”

  “Please.” The lone word hissed from her.

  Apparently, it was enough, because at long last, he lowered his head and did as he had promised. His tongue replaced his finger, swirling around her entrance without dipping inside, before sliding to her pearl. He fluttered his tongue against her lightly.

  Just enough to tantalize.

  Then he raised his head again. Her dew coating his lips. She wanted to lick it off them. But first, she wanted him to make her spend with that clever tongue of his.

  “I was right,” he said. “You taste like mine.”

  “Then take me,” she dared him, desperation and desire overtaking all else.

  He lowered his head again, and this time, he did not hold back. He sucked hard on her pearl, and then he licked to her channel, thrusting his tongue inside. Her left hand flew to the bedclothes at her side, grasping up a fistful. Her right settled on his head, her fingers tangling in his hair.

  He moaned as he thrust his tongue into her again and again. She pressed his face deeper, held him there as he devoured her, thrust herself against him. He licked into her as if she were the finest dessert. As if he could not get enough. As if he relished her on his tongue.

  She was close. So close. His sensual torture had heightened her every sense. When he sucked the bud of her sex back into his mouth, she flew. Her climax was powerful and explosive. Her breath fled her as her entire body stiffened, bowing from the bed.

  Jack flicked his tongue over Nell’s engorged pearl as she cried out. He licked her slowly, deliberately, prolonging her pinnacle as best as he could. He stayed where he was, face between her pretty legs, relishing every moment of her pleasure. He loved the way she tasted, the way she came undone. Loved when she mindlessly pressed her cunny into his face, burying him in her sweet, spicy heat. She was still trembling, hips still working in quick little thrusts.

  But he did not
think he could last much longer. His ballocks were already drawn tight, and his cock was rigid and ready. With one last, lingering kiss on the flesh he had just pleasured, he rose over her, gripping himself. His cockhead dipped into her core, kissing him with wetness. The urge to mindlessly plow into her was strong.

  He held himself still with great effort, meeting her gaze. “Do you want me inside you?”

  “Yes.” She wrapped a leg around his waist, the heel of her dainty foot grinding into his arse cheek to spur him on. “Do it.”

  He slid inside her. She gripped him tight, bringing him deep. Damnation, she felt so good. So damn good. She felt like home. He groaned, remaining planted inside her to the hilt, savoring this moment, their unity, the closeness it brought them. When they made love, everything else faded away. All the conflict, all the time apart, all the hurt and agony of the past. If he could keep her in bed forever, his chances of winning her back would increase exponentially, he thought grimly.

  She wrapped her other leg around his waist, moving restlessly beneath him. Her hands found his shoulders, her nails scoring his skin. “What are you waiting for, Jack? Fuck me.”

  He was no match for the vulgar command on her lips.

  He withdrew almost entirely, and then he plunged hard. She cried out, her head going back into the pillows, eyes closing tight. Her throat was exposed, creamy and bare. He lowered his head and bit it as he drove into her once more with punishing force. He shagged her so hard, the massive bed creaked, the seemingly immovable headboard slamming into the wall.

  He ground into her in mindless repetition, filling her, fucking her. And she moved with him, raking her nails down his back, meeting him thrust for thrust, making the most delicious, mewling noises of desperate pleasure. He turned into an animal, wild for her. He nipped her earlobe, her shoulder. And she clawed at him with exquisite abandon.

  One more deep thrust, and she tightened on him, her cry echoing through the chamber as she spent mindlessly, a rush of liquid bathing his cock. He increased his pace, slamming into her harder, more aggressively, filling his hands with her bottom and angling her to him so he could sink his cock as deep as possible inside her luscious heat.