Willful Depravity

by Ingrid Hahn

  Her hand cupped his face. He pulled away, staring intensely into the depths of her eyes. “Are you hungry?”

  “Hungry?”

  “Yes. Are you?”

  “No.”

  “Good. We’ll have trays brought up later, then.”

  “Brought up? Brought up where?”

  “To our room, of course.” He gazed at her, certain that the all-consuming fire of his need burned brightly in his eyes. “I think it’s time to go to bed.”

  Chapter Nine

  The marquess shut the door. They were in a grand bedroom with narrow leaded windows overlooking a wild expanse of countryside. The room had clearly been refurbished since Castle Glenrose’s original construction, and no expense had been spared. Indeed, a few expenses might have been added simply for the pleasure of spending the money.

  The enormous fireplace was carved of a marble veined with an unusual blue, the color of tarnished copper. The postered bed, hung with lavish curtains dyed exactly to match the blue tones in the fireplace stone, could have fit the entire royal family.

  Ashcroft caught her staring at the bed. His expression didn’t change. It didn’t need to. He looked at her like a libertine demanding submission to his debauchery…

  Her heart beat like a caged sparrow desperate for freedom. Freedom to do exactly as he wished. To give herself wholly over. To lose herself in a world where nothing existed but the pleasure they created.

  A wicked smile slowly crossed his face. “We’re alone.”

  “Yes.” In a castle where everyone thought they were newly wed, doing exactly what it was that those fresh from the altar most wanted to do.

  “I need my tongue in your quim.”

  Thank heaven. She’d waited long enough. She deserved this.

  Patience drew in a shaky breath, arousal making her hot and needy. “If you talk like that, I’m going to come before you even touch me.”

  Still standing in front of the closed door, he pulled away his jacket.

  “You’re going to come when I’m good and ready for you to come.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Ashcroft stalked close. “Are you challenging me, my beauty?”

  Her internal landscape crackling with sparks of heady defiance, she raised her chin at him. “Daring you, I’d say. But why scruple over words when we both want the same thing?”

  He began to strip. “You want to know all the things I’ve been dreaming of doing to you?”

  The question had an instant effect. She went from warm to hot. From swollen between her legs to damn near clenching. “What?”

  “Running my tongue over your skin. Exploring you inch by heavenly inch.”

  There was no doubt she’d give him every opportunity to do exactly that—and the sooner, the better. “What else?”

  He smiled that cocksure smile of his, pleased as a well-fed tiger and just as certain of his beauty. His waistcoat went, button by button, and the neck cloth fell next. “I’ve been dreaming of sinking my fingers knuckles-deep so I can stroke you from the inside.” The white linen shirt followed. After untying the tapes about his neck, he swept it over his head in one smooth movement, leaving his upper torso bare.

  Patience had never needed to touch or be touched so desperately in all her life.

  He raised his brows at her and held out his arms. “Well?”

  The firelight made his smooth skin glow. His body was lean and muscled, with a dusting of hair over the defined planes of his broad chest.

  She barely trusted herself to speak. Her mind was a haze of desire. “You…need compliments, my lord?”

  “I need to know…” He paused and flicked hair out of his eyes. His voice plummeted to velvety depths. “…that I please you.”

  His head dipped. Their lips came dangerously close. The scent of him deepened her anticipation and widened the breadth of her eagerness.

  Patience skimmed her fingers down the front of him. Bare skin to bare skin. His muscles were harder than she’d expected. A stark contrast to her fleshiness. “You do things to me that I didn’t know could be done.”

  She explored him, roaming her hands over skin warmer than she’d have guessed. He was a study in textures. Smooth in the curves under his biceps. But another kind of soft entirely where the hair dusted the hard definition of his upper torso.

  “A lusty woman like you, Miss Emery? I imagine you expect quite a lot.”

  “I do.” The fearful part of her heart, where a voice resided forever cautioning against none but the lowest expectations, had thought she could only hope for a grope in the dark. “But you exceed all expectations.”

  The marquess made a growl of pleasure. Their mouths collided. He reached up his hands to cup her cheeks so he could kiss her more deeply, parting her lips and caressing her tongue with his own.

  A wild pulse beat between her thighs. Her legs went numb, her knees weak. Her head was light, as if she couldn’t take in enough air.

  “Time to remove your gown, I think.”

  He treated each pin and tape with reverence normally witnessed in papist priests handling the relics of their holy men. Her gown fell in a heap.

  “Sit on the edge of the bed.” He beckoned her.

  Heart pumping, she did. The marquess knelt by her feet and gently lifted her chemise. He plucked one garter ribbon free and then the other. The backs of his hands followed her rounding calves upward. Patience shivered. To be touched as if venerated—it was nothing she’d ever expected, or even dreamed possible.

  One at a time, the marquess found the tops of her stockings and rolled them down her legs. He took her hands and helped her to stand again, tugged the laces of her stays free, stripped away the garment, and bent to grab the hem of her chemise and lifted it over her head.

  There was nothing on her but firelight and his heated gaze.

  “See this?” He unbuttoned his falls and withdrew an erection that would have put a stallion to shame. “It’s all for you. You did this to me. This is how much I want you.”

  “And this…” Head spinning with her unbelievable boldness, she took his hand and guided it between her legs. She needed him to know how wet she was. “Is how much I want you.”

  …

  One look at her nude form and Giles was lost. Miss Emery was an allegory for lovemaking. Her body went on and on, each bountiful part more beautiful than the last. She was nothing but curve after curve of ripe feminine flesh. Huge breasts with large areolae of dusky pink. A rounded stomach and enormous rippling thighs.

  The flickering candlelight around them made her hair gleam and the depths of her eyes all but fathomless.

  She was all his dreams come alive before him. Proof that there was a God and he was not only good, but generous even to the lowliest of his creatures.

  Giles studied her, the hues and textures, cataloging the way he would mix paints to capture the color of her hair and the shimmer it caught by candlelight…the undertones of her skin and the exact shade of her nipples.

  Oils and pigments and canvas would do this woman no true justice. No artist in the world could hope to replicate the glory of the creation before him. “You are the perfect muse. All the beauty under the sun.”

  Miss Emery scoffed. “What nonsense.”

  Giles caught her by the wrist. “Look at me.” Their gazes met. He held the stare and spoke with ferocity. “I don’t speak in untruths. I don’t—”

  “Stop talking and fuck me. And don’t say the word ‘patience’ to me as if you’re making a clever pun about my name, for I won’t find it amusing.”

  Alluring, strong, and feisty. It was an intoxicating combination in a woman.

  “Put your claws away, my lovely.” He helped her onto the bed, positioning her so she would see the surprise he’d installed to delight her. He flashed a grin and lowered his voice. “We’ll save those for later.”

  “Save what?”

  “Your claws, of course. We’ll save them for rougher play.” Giles settled
on the mattress sideways beside her and ran his fingers of his free hand through the loose waves of her lustrous hair, bringing her head closer to kiss her again. “And I do hope I wouldn’t be so dreadfully dull.”

  “Dreadfully dull?”

  “As to make a pun of your beautiful name.” His tongue found hers. Silk slid around silk. He inhaled. She smelled as good as she looked. Sweet. Womanly.

  He moved his hand over her skin. She broke the kiss and pulled back a trifle to run her gaze down his body. “I always thought people did this in the dark.”

  “In the dark? With you? Send me to the gallows if I tried.”

  “I’m ever so glad we’re not.” A shy smile touched her lips—ridiculously endearing considering the circumstances.

  Taking her hand, he led it downward. She needed no coaxing, wrapping her hand around him without hesitation. Her pressure was firm. Confident, too, as she began stroking. “Oh, Miss Emery, what a sweet death you’re leading me to.”

  “Good.”

  Chapter Ten

  The marquess had positioned Patience on the bed oddly, but it didn’t much matter if her head pointed to one of the bottom corners. They could use the bed as they pleased.

  “You’ve been waiting for this a long time.”

  “Yes.”

  “Now I’m going to fuck you.”

  “Please.” She rocked and moaned against him. “Please, fuck me.”

  “And you’re going to watch.”

  “What?” Did he say…watch?

  He grabbed a heavy drape of damask at the head of the bed and tugged. The fabric fell away to reveal a mirror. “Ever used one of these for the one part of you pretty enough to rival your face?”

  Despite the depravity of his words, the compliment was a gentle kiss upon her heart. “I’ve never considered such a thing.”

  He leaned down and kissed her briefly. “You’ll have to take some time to indulge yourself later. It’s too good. I oughtn’t to be the only one to enjoy your body. You should enjoy your body, too.”

  And so she intended.

  The marquess smiled wolfishly. “You have no idea what’s waiting for you.”

  She wiggled her hips. “I’ve waited long enough, my lord. Give it to me.”

  “I told you I’d have you begging for it.”

  “Stop teasing me.” She was about to have all she’d been forbidden her entire life. She didn’t want to wait any longer. Not one more second. Cock, she wanted cock. His. Deep and hard and moving inside her.

  “I want to, but it’s so difficult when it’s so fun.”

  She almost whimpered in frustration. “Don’t be a horse’s ass.”

  The blasted man who was torturing her smiled as he wedged himself between her splayed legs, nude, his body strong, broad, and lean. His cock huge and hard. Really more a vulgar extra appendage than anything else. It was more an object to impale rather than insert. His cock would be all hers.

  “Open wide, my lovely.” He pushed her thighs apart. “How’s the view?”

  The mirror was angled perfectly. She could see everything. Herself. The folds and lines of her quim, the outer lips open, leaving nothing to the imagination. The flesh was the color of wine that hadn’t washed out of linen.

  Gently, with his thumb putting light pressure on her clitoris, he slipped two fingers inside her.

  Her head fell back as her interior clenched around him. Patience edged close to coming…if she didn’t come soon, she’d go mad. Hands that had explored the textures and sensations of the world, manipulated pens and brushes, escorted ladies, opened doors, and moved utensils from plate to mouth were inside her body.

  Now those hands explored her.

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” He moved his fingers slowly, in and out as his thumb continued working her clitoris.

  Her head rolled to one side and her hips rocked, desperate to urge him deeper. “Yes.”

  “You like penetration.”

  “So much.”

  “Don’t you dare come yet, Miss Emery.”

  The prohibition heightened her pleasure. “I’m in your care, my lord.”

  “Yes. Yes, you are.” Ashcroft moved closer. His body was warm. Heavy. His every movement confident and insistent.

  Patience rocked harder, no longer fully in control of herself. She couldn’t stop, needing the pleasure like a fire needs air to blaze. It built, stronger and stronger.

  “I can’t help it. I’m…” Her head thrashed from one side and then the other. “I’m going to…”

  And she did. Hard. The tension snapped like a line on a ship. All she could do was submit to the tempest within. Wave after shimmering wave poured through her. One would crest. Another would swell.

  A lifetime later, it was through with her. She lay panting, relaxed to the center of her bones.

  “You’re fair glowing, Miss Emery.” He withdrew his hand from between her legs and drew the tips of damp fingers around the outline of her mouth. Instinctively, she let her tongue dart out to taste herself.

  The marquess moaned. He positioned himself so his hips were near level with hers. His body was between her thighs. Merely having him there brought a hot resurgence of pleasure. It was finally going to happen. Everything she’d wanted for so long. The act itself. Her virginity would be forfeit here, now, and forever more.

  Thank God.

  “Watch, my lovely, watch.” He jerked his head once toward the mirror. “This is the incredible part. When our bodies come together—made for one another.”

  Worry fluttered in her belly. She had to rely upon his confidence that it would work according to plan. “Be careful.” A dismaying note of panic had entered her voice.

  He placed a kiss on her forehead. “Always.”

  His muscles flexed as if he fought to restrain himself. He was big. Broad. And utterly beautiful.

  Patience stared at the mirror, unable to blink lest she miss the sight. Holding himself above her on one arm, he wrapped his free hand around the leviathan he called a cock and placed the engorged head against her body.

  He pressed.

  Nothing happened.

  The muscles on the washboard of his stomach clenched. He pressed again, harder this time, sustaining the pressure. Slightly, her body gave for him.

  She winced, and her breath caught in her throat. Dear God, this was happening. Her legs were open, not for a tongue this time, but for a man’s body. A man’s cock. A huge cock, hard and pointed straight into her. The sensation was strange and…uncomfortable.

  He was enjoying it—enjoying her. Which was more than she’d ever dared dream.

  All the more incredible was that her body could accommodate his. With careful ease, his erection slowly disappeared into her. His massive length stretched and filled her, pushing in most of the way until it bumped against the end of her passage.

  Good God. It worked. He’d said it would, and it did.

  Chapter Eleven

  Seated inside her, his body inside hers, their torsos pressing together, Ashcroft ceased moving. “Are you all right, Miss Emery?”

  Patience nodded. The strangeness abated, and a new wonderfulness slipped into its place. It didn’t seem real, while also being the most exquisitely vivid moment of her life. “I like it.”

  Liked being filled by a hard cock. Liked it more than she imagined she might.

  It was wicked beyond measure. Sinful. Unseemly and indecent. The sensation of being…for lack of a better word, impaled. Of sharing her body. Of having a man share his with her. It was utterly physical in a way no other activity seemed to be—but that had to be a trick of the mind resulting from the newness of what she was embarking upon.

  By society’s standards, she was wicked and immoral. The quintessential fallen women. She’d fall a thousand times if this was where she’d land on the other end.

  Ashcroft hissed a sharp breath. “You’re so snug. So hot and wet.”

  He let out what sounded almost like a growl. He withdrew and san
k back again, withdrew and sank back again. Patience didn’t dare blink. Her gaze was fixed on the mirror. It was simple. Simple and utterly mesmerizing.

  He unleashed his intensity upon her, rutting with sweet ardor. Patience matched the marquess movement for movement, thrust for thrust. Taking him again and again, not caring about the soreness. It was the culmination of endless dreams.

  Patience’s appetite had been roused. She’d thought she’d known how hungry she’d been before she met the marquess.

  She’d had no idea.

  He shifted himself, moving higher above her and angling himself so he could reach between them and touch her. He pressed his fingers against her pleasure point. Patience made a minor adjustment to his position so he hit her exactly in that magical place, sending shimmers through her body.

  She couldn’t help herself. She moaned and cried out, careening toward the inevitable, not quite achieving satisfaction. Reaching and reaching, straining to grasp for everything that could be hers…

  For a second time, Patience broke. And lost herself, spasming around his cock.

  Spent, she relaxed. The marquess withdrew himself and, sitting on his knees on the section of mattress between her legs, held his cock over her as he released his essence onto her stomach.

  He left the bed, crossing the room, his deflating cock bobbing with each step. Even as it reassumed a resting state, it seemed big. Without any real experience, it was difficult to know.

  The only examples she’d glimpsed belonged to the hardworking men of the docks, who would relieve themselves where they pleased. Among them, modesty wasn’t a virtue. That was, once she realized what to look for. Those other cocks in her memory were nothing but scampering mice compared to the kingly serpent lying between the marquess’s legs.

  Ashcroft returned with a soft towel and wiped her clean of the viscous liquid he’d spilled on her skin. He folded the cloth and dabbed away the moisture smeared on the interior of her thighs.

  He straightened. “Thirsty?”

  Floating in profound relaxation, Patience blinked. “I am, rather.”