“Two,” the man repeated, and then hustled for the door. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”
Mr. Carlisle shut the door as he exited, and Marianne started at the quiet click that indicated she was now alone with Alexander. In a chamber they would share. In a chamber where she would surrender her virginity to him.
He moved toward her, and she couldn’t help but tense as he closed the distance with only three long steps. He came to a sudden stop. “I’m not going to jump on you,” he said.
Her breath hitched and she stared up at him, mesmerized by the intensity of his face, the beauty and the imperfection of it. She wanted this man, propriety be damned.
His eyes narrowed. “Unless that’s what you want,” he whispered, moving even closer. His body heat surrounded her and she could hardly breathe at all now. He sucked up all the space and air between them with his presence. “Is that what you want?”
She swallowed, struggling to find words. It was odd, since she often babbled, especially when she was nervous. But right now she could hardly breathe. Finally, she merely bobbed her head once. His expression grew harder, more focused and purposeful, and he reached out to trace a thumb across her lips. She fought the urge to capture it with her mouth, suck it and let him drag his skin across her skin.
He caught her arm and pulled her against him, hard, tight, and then he lowered his mouth with exquisite slowness. She lifted into him, eager for his kiss, eager for him in general, and when he brushed his mouth across hers, she let out a ragged sigh of relief.
What started as gentle spiraled almost immediately into a hungry claiming of her mouth, and she lost herself in the incessant drive of his tongue and the heated grip of his hands on her arms. She recognized that he was pushing her backward, into the bedchamber, and she didn’t resist. The bedchamber was exactly where she wanted to be.
He maneuvered them into the room and kicked the door shut behind them as he continued to kiss her and kiss her until her blood boiled and her vision blurred with desire and sensation. If someone had asked her a week ago if she would be here, she would have said no. She would have been aghast at the suggestion. But now that she was, there was nowhere else she’d rather be than in this room, with this man.
This man who had wrapped his arms around her and was now stripping open the buttons along the back of her dress, pulling it free like he had earlier in the carriage. She felt the fabric droop and he pulled away from the kiss to tug the entire contraption down, past her hips to pool on the floor at her feet.
“Step out,” he ordered, his tone low and ragged.
She followed the order—how could she not?—and kicked the dress aside. Her chemise hit just above her knees and she blushed as he looked at her, despite what they’d done in the carriage earlier in the day. She was not accustomed to being viewed with so little on. Would she ever be?
He was still for what felt like an eternity and then reached out again, catching her hips with his big hands, drawing her forward to collide with the solid muscle of his body.
“I should not do this,” he whispered, his breath catching as he stared down into her face, just inches from his own. “What little of a gentleman is left of me is telling me to stop. To let you go.”
She caught her breath at the idea that he would free her from their bargain. She supposed she should thrill at that idea, but she didn’t. What he suggested didn’t sound like freedom to her. More like abandonment. Loss.
She pulled from his arms and lifted shaking hands to the straps of her chemise. Drawing a deep breath, she pushed the undergarment away and now stood naked, save her stockings and slippers.
“You and I have a bargain,” she managed to squeak out past dry lips. “Tell me you don’t plan to renege.”
His eyes went wide. “No. I don’t think I could even if I tried. Not anymore.”
She folded her hands before her, heat flooding her from head to toe. “I-I don’t know what to do.”
“Take off the rest,” he suggested.
She nodded, turning away slightly. She toed off her slippers and rolled her stockings down her legs, draping them over the arm of a chair closest to her. When she turned back, she found Alexander still staring at her. She stared right back, for he had removed his jacket, waistcoat and shirt while she focused on her stockings.
She’d never seen a half-naked man before. And her mouth went utterly dry at the sight of this one. He was…granite. Steel. An unmovable object. His was a body of strength, with tanned flesh overlaying what seemed like endless ripples of muscle. He had a peppering of dark hair across his chest, leading in a trail down to his trouser waist.
“Oh my God,” she murmured.
“My thoughts exactly,” he said, his tone thick with what she recognized was desire. Again her mind turned to the carriage. To his mouth on her, to the racking pleasure that had turned her inside out and changed her forever.
“The bed,” he grunted, pointing to it. “Now, please.”
She looked at the bed. When they entered the room, she had been too distracted by his touch to really take in the chamber. Now she caught her breath. It was a large bed, with crisp white linens. It faced the fire, so there was a golden glow across it, almost welcoming her to the future she had never guessed she would now be facing.
A future as this man’s lover.
She climbed into the high bed and settled back on the pillows, watching as he parted the buttons on his trousers and slid them down his trim hips. She stared at what he revealed.
“Do you know what it’s called?” he asked, staying right where he stood.
“That?” she whispered, pointing to the hard thrust of muscle between his legs. It had a mushroom head, a long shaft and a thatch of dark curls at its base. Where her sex was soft and wet and pliable, his looked like a weapon.
“A cock,” he said. “Do you know what I’ll do with it?”
“I saw…animals on my father’s estate in the country,” she admitted. “And once I found a very naughty book in his study. So I have some idea.”
“But your mother never spoke to you of this?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I was young when my mother died, not close to marriageable age. She never talked to me about this, nor did anyone else.”
He shut his eyes, and for a long moment he said nothing, nor did he move. Then he looked at her again. “It will hurt the first time. I’ll do everything I can to ease the pain, but it is part of what will happen. But after, once this first time is through, there will not be pain again. Do you understand?”
“And what I’ve felt when I touched myself, when you…licked me?” she asked, blushing so dark that she was sure she looked like a beet. “Will that happen again?”
“I’m going to make sure of it,” he whispered, and at last he moved toward her. He was like an animal, stalking its prey. Slow and steady, he never removed his gaze from her, focused and intent. She, like a rabbit facing a fox, froze, waiting for him, her breath short and her body tense with anticipation. He joined her on the bed, his big body dipping the mattress as he stalked toward her, now on all fours like the beast she could see living inside of him.
He moved over her, caging her against the pillows with his arms and staring down at her, his expression hard to read beyond intense, powerful desire. He dropped his mouth and brushed his lips back and forth against hers. She sank into the kiss once more, memorizing the feel of his mouth on hers, the sensation of the slightly raised mark of his scar rolling over her skin.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispered as he pulled away.
She swallowed. Despite his darkness, this man inspired honesty in her. Perhaps in part because she sensed he would settle for nothing less than that. If she lied, he would see it. And he would not allow it.
“There are so many thoughts,” she began. “A thousand bouncing off each other and creating such cacophony that I can hardly discern one from the other. So where do I begin? Or
do I—”
He let out his breath. “Marianne.”
The interruption, her name said so softly, settled her mind a fraction.
“I’m afraid,” she admitted. “Not just of what is about to happen, but of how much I want it. How much I want…you. Is that wrong? You are hardly more than a stranger and I’ve spent my whole life being told to guard what I am about to hand over to you.”
He pushed off her, rolling to the side where he faced her, his expression pensive. “Not wrong. Ladies are taught that what they want, what they feel, is to be hidden, but it’s natural to feel desire. After all, you’ve experienced that pleasure that comes from orgasm.”
She tilted her head. “Orgasm?”
He shook his head slowly. “Release. The pleasure you felt here—” He glided just the tips of his fingers down the apex of her body, settling them gently at the soaking entrance to her sex. “—when you came. That drive to feel that release is natural, even if the arrangement we’ve come to is unorthodox.”
He didn’t move his hand when he finished speaking, but gently massaged the sensitive flesh between her legs. She shut her eyes on a ragged breath and began to lift toward him.
“This is the last chance, though, Marianne,” he whispered, his breath rolling over her throat before he kissed her neck, nibbling the sensitive flesh. “Once I take you, there’s no going back. So you must tell me now, is this truly what you want?”
She opened her eyes, watching as he dragged his mouth down her collarbone, over the heavy swell of her breast, and then his pink tongue stroked out over her nipple. She gasped, lifting her hips hard into his hand, feeling his fingertips breach her just a fraction as sensation rushed through her, powerful and almost overwhelming.
In that moment, the truth hit her like a slap in the face. She was doing this not to save Juliet, not out of desperation, not for any other reason but that she wanted this man. She wanted the pleasure he seemed capable of giving with just a flick of his wrist or his tongue. She wanted it for herself, with no other ulterior motive, even if she would benefit from her decision in the future.
She reached for him, tucking a finger beneath his chin and forcing him to lift his face to look at her. “Yes,” she said, holding his gaze steady. “I want this. I want you. The answer is yes.”
Chapter Six
Alexander had been with many women in his life. Before he was scarred, he’d been known as a rake, a seducer of women, and they had fallen at his feet for the opportunity for a night in his bed. Tonight should have been nothing out of the ordinary for him. Oh, it had been a while, yes. But it shouldn’t have meant anything beyond slaking a desire that had risen up so powerfully in him.
But now, staring into Marianne’s green eyes, seeing the innocence in her expression, but also the heat that bubbled beneath her demure surface…he felt a stirring in his heart that he didn’t understand and didn’t want.
He wanted it to go away.
With a growl, he rolled back over to cover her, pinning her to the bed with his superior weight. She mewled out in pleasure, arching against him with unpracticed passion that made his hard cock even harder, a divining rod that screamed at him where to go.
With difficulty, he fought the urge to simply plunge inside her tight body, and kissed her roughly. She tasted like peaches, sweet and ripe, and she relaxed beneath him with a soft sound of pleasure. When she was limp, he returned his attention to her body, dragging his mouth back to her rosy nipples, where he licked and sucked and plucked at her. He loved how her breath caught with pleasure, how her hips rolled against his, seeking what he had to offer. He loved how she shut her eyes and surrendered to sensation. Innocent or no, she was bold. She was brave.
And that spoke to him in some deep place he had thought cut off when he locked himself away from the world at large. Tonight he would allow himself this pleasure. After…well, he would decide that when he came to it.
He dragged his mouth lower, tasting the flesh of her stomach, her hip, and then parting her legs to reveal her sex just as he had in the carriage. She was already wet, and the scent of her desire drove him mad with wanting. But he wanted this to be good for her. So he pushed his own desire aside and focused on making her come, making her ready.
He spread her folds, rubbing the flat of his fingers across the entrance to her body. She gasped, turning her head on the pillows at the intimate touch. He watched her face, observing how she bit her lip, how she arched her back as he smoothed his fingers across her again, then dipped just the tip of his index finger inside.
“Alexander,” she gasped, her eyes opening wide and his name a prayer as he breached her body this time.
“I want to ready you,” he explained, only barely holding back a groan as her tight body pulsed around him. She was most definitely untried and he gently stretched her with his fingers. She dug her fingers into the coverlet, hissing out a sound that wasn’t clearly pleasure or pain, and he stopped moving. “Does it hurt?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, her breath short. “It’s full.”
He almost laughed at that statement, for she hadn’t even begun to experience fullness yet. His cock would soon stretch her, leaving no more space between them.
And he was so ready for that moment. Judging from the slick welcome of her sex around his fingers, so was she. He bent his head, drawing his tongue against the salty and sweet essence of her body. She ground up into him just as she had done in the carriage, and within a few long strokes, her body began to shake with orgasm. He looked up at her as he continued to draw her through the pleasure, reveling in the look of pure release on her lovely face.
When the tremors had subsided, he lifted to his knees, grasped her hips and slid her lower on the bed. He pressed her thighs wider before he matched their bodies, his hardness to her softness. She looked down at the place where they would be joined, and he saw the worry on her face, but also the curiosity and lingering need.
“Ready?” he asked.
She jerked out a nod. “Yes.”
He drove forward in one slick thrust and barely contained a groan of pure bliss. By God, but her tight body welcomed him, pulsing around him in the last few tremors of her prior orgasm. He looked down at her face and saw the flash of pain there, so he forced himself to hold still when all he wanted to do was pound against her hard and fast, slaking his need for her until there was nothing but blinding pleasure to wipe away everything else.
“Talk to me,” he urged, hearing the strain in his voice.
She wiggled a little beneath him and her sex clenched against his cock. He dipped his head back with a harsh grunt, fighting for the control this woman didn’t even fully realize she could take.
“It hurt for a moment,” she whispered. “But now it’s just…odd.”
“And what about now?” he asked as he slowly rotated his hips.
She gasped, her eyes going even wider as she jerked her stare to his face. “Alexander?”
“And now?” he repeated, rolling his hips again.
She sucked in air through her teeth as she lifted against him instinctually. Oh, yes, she was built for this. From her beautiful head down to her curling toes. She was built for this and for him.
He moved faster now, working to balance a desire to be gentle with her with his need to come. And she met him stroke for stroke, gasping out his name as he gathered her closer and kissed her deeply.
Their hips ground together, her sex milked him, hotter and tighter than anything he’d ever experienced before. And swiftly he approached a crisis he would not be able to avoid. Her panting breaths echoed in his ears as she neared her own release a second time and he ground hard into her to bring her there.
She let out a harsh cry, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as she nearly bucked off the bed. He drove his tongue into her mouth, catching her gasps and moans of pleasure as he drove harder and faster into her clenching body. He felt the gathering storm reaching its cr
escendo and with a moan, he withdrew from her body and spent between them.
His heart racing, he rolled from her, pulling her against his chest and holding her there, relieved from all the negative emotions that normally clouded his every move. At least for a few short moments.
Marianne pulled the blanket around her a little tighter and pushed her plate away. It had only been half an hour since she and Alexander had made love, but it seemed like an eternity. Certainly, she felt like she was with a different man.
In the bed, he had been gentle, careful, and he had given her more pleasure than she had ever thought possible. But here, sitting in the main room of their chamber, a table of food spread out before them, he was back to being distant, cool.
She shifted and hissed out a small sound of discomfort. Her body wasn’t used to what they’d just done, and it was telling her all about it.
He frowned even more deeply than he had a moment before. “They’re likely preparing a bath in the dressing room even as we speak,” he said. “After I finish eating, I’ll check. The warm water will help with the pain.”
She wrinkled her brow as she examined him closely. He was a dichotomy, that was certain. Hard and distant, but also caring and careful. Handsome but scarred. On the outside his scars were obvious, but there was something beyond that. Deeper than that.
“You arranged for a bath?” she asked.
He arched a brow. “Contrary to my appearance, I’m not a monster, Marianne. I recognize you may be feeling some discomfort.”
She swallowed hard and looked at his face closely. “You don’t look like a monster, Alexander. And after today, I do not think you are one in your heart, as gruff as you may try to be.”
“Don’t you?” he said slowly.
She heard the dangerous warning in his tone. She ignored it, even though the man made her nervous. Even though he held her future in his hands now.
Stealing The Duke Page 5