by Joanna Shupe
But Nick had other plans. Though he longed to feel her orgasm on his tongue, screaming his name as she shuddered, he needed to draw this out, make her so mindless with lust so she would never forget him. He leaned over to pluck his glass of liqueur from the table.
A hint of apprehension flickered in Juliet’s eyes. She didn’t know what he was about, and Nick liked it that way. This night, he would erase the memories of all her former lovers, and if she didn’t know what to expect, all the better.
“Nick, what—” she started until a small amount of liquid splashed onto her naked chest.
She gave a sharp intake of breath, and he watched, fascinated, as the amber-colored liqueur snaked down the valley between her breasts then trailed around her side. Her glorious body spread before him like a feast, he eagerly bent over and pressed his tongue to her ribs, cleaning the sweet wetness from her skin with his mouth. The almond and apricot flavor mixed with her soft skin, the taste and feel of her under the rasp of his tongue more intoxicating than any liqueur.
Onward he stroked, higher, until he licked the underside of her breast, gently bathing the plush, plump skin. Unbelievably, his cock stirred to life and thickened with a desperate desire only this one woman seemed to elicit from him. He’d never been so insatiable in his life, but Juliet made him feel as randy as a lad at his first tupping.
He began teasing the valley between her breasts by pressing wet kisses slowly up her breastbone, one after another, until she arched her back and clutched his head. He still hadn’t used his hands on her, a fact he knew she was well aware of. She tried to bring his mouth to the rosy pink tip of one breast, but Nick slid away, determined to torment her.
Lifting over her, he dragged his tongue over the long length of her collarbone, cleaning away the stickiness from the liqueur as he went. She panted and shifted restlessly on the bed and he willed himself to be patient.
“Nick, please.”
He nibbled the delicate column of her throat.
When she tried to meet his mouth with her own, he pulled out of her reach and studied her. Her face flushed with passion and eyes closed in sweet surrender, he’d never seen a more beautiful woman.
“Please,” she breathed, and his patience cracked under her throaty plea.
He poured a long, thin thread of liqueur down her body, ending just over her mound. She jerked and shivered, and Nick absently tossed the glass on the floor, his focus entirely on her naked flesh.
He leaned down and quickly slid his tongue along the line of liqueur, not wasting time before shifting between her legs. The sweet musky scent of her arousal combined with the almond and apricots, and his shaft hardened even more.
“I want to hear you scream, Juliet. Do not hold back,” he said before lowering his head, his tongue making one bold sweep through the length of her folds. Her hips lifted up in response and he smiled. He planned on enjoying this as much as she did.
Using his thumbs, he parted the glistening lips and blew gently. Then he laved the little nubbin of engorged flesh with his tongue, circling it rhythmically until she moaned beneath him, held on, and panted for breath. God, he could do this for hours. But he wanted to give her more, bring her higher, so he slipped a finger inside her warm, wet channel, then followed with another. Juliet arched up off the bed, called his name, and he knew she was close.
He continued using his tongue on her, even sucking her a bit, until her thighs began quivering. Her inner muscles clamped down on his fingers, and she stiffened. He felt her orgasm ripple through her whole body, and she shouted loud enough to be heard in Rome.
When she stopped shaking, he could think of nothing but possessing her one more time. His cock achingly hard, he rose up on his knees, gripped her thighs, and drove all the way inside her tightness with one smooth thrust of his hips. She grimaced and let out a squeak.
He froze, the haze of lust instantly clearing from his brain. “Are you in pain?”
Her lips were pressed tightly together. “A bit,” she murmured. “But—”
He gently withdrew and kissed her cheek. “I am sorry, Juliet. I shouldn’t be so demanding of you during our first night together. Forgive me.”
“It’s I who should apologize, Nick—”
“No, tesorina.” He rolled and wrapped her in his arms until she rested atop his chest. “You owe me no apology. And I promise to let you rest if you stay with me.” Nick liked the way she felt against him, all soft and warm. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt quite this content.
In response, she snuggled into his side. Nick listened to her breathing slow while she drifted off to sleep, a small smile on his face.
The next afternoon, Sergio presented Julia with a note. “Grazie,” she said, taking the paper. It was from Nick.
My Dear Mrs. Leighton,
Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the theater this evening? I fear I may not fully understand the production unless you are there to offer insight.
Yours,
Nick
“Is his man awaiting a reply?” she asked her footman.
“Yes, signora.”
“Then allow me a moment.” Julia got up from the couch and went to the small desk in the corner of the sitting room. She wrote a quick note, telling Nick she would be delighted and he should collect her later that evening.
When the footman left with her note, she turned to her aunt. “I am to attend the theater tonight with Colton.”
Theo smiled. “Does that mean you shall again spend the night elsewhere?”
“Perhaps,” Julia replied, ignoring the thrill that coursed through her when she imagined another night with Nick. The memories of being with him, the feel of him inside her, struck her with giddiness at the oddest times today. And the way he’d lapped liqueur off her bare skin . . . She sighed. The man was deliciously wicked.
She’d crawled out of his bed early this morning, the duke fast asleep. At the time, it had seemed easier, but part of her wished she had stayed to experience more wickedness at his hands.
Her aunt studied her carefully. “Anyone can see what you two were about last night. You’re positively glowing today.”
Julia felt heat creep up her neck. “I am not.”
Theo snorted. “My dear, if you appeared any more relaxed, you’d be asleep. I guess I needn’t ask if the rumors of your husband’s prowess are exaggerated.”
Julia frowned. She didn’t want to imagine Nick bedding other women—women like Mrs. Leighton. No doubt the women in his past were far more beautiful and skilled than she, the inexperienced wife he never planned to see again. All the familiar anger she’d carried for eight years, the resentment she’d forgotten with a few passionate kisses, bubbled up.
The things he’d said—and did—last evening were so intimate and personal. Did he do and say those same things with every woman he bedded? Or was it the nature of men to act so . . . loving toward a woman one day and then turn to another the next? And they said women were fickle creatures.
Julia rubbed her brow. It would not do to become maudlin over the situation. She’d come to Venice to seduce her reprobate of a husband. That he was a reprobate only helped her achieve her goal. And she’d already succeeded. Soon she would find herself with child, whereby she would leave and never see him again. Wondering about the long line of women before her or the ones who would surely follow did no good whatsoever.
Besides, it would ruin the elation over her victory.
She’d actually done it. She’d seduced her husband. “Just think, Aunt Theo. I could be enceinte at this very moment.” Her hand found its way to her belly. “Will I make a good mother, do you wonder? I don’t remember much of my own. You’ve been more of a mother to me than anyone else.”
“You shall be an excellent mother. Loving, compassionate, and ready to fiercely protect her child. Any woman who would go to the lengths you’ve gone to get what you want . . . You’ve got spine, Julia. Your mother wasn’t quite so strong.”<
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“How so?” Theo rarely spoke of the late marchioness. She and Julia’s younger sister had died in childbirth when Julia was four years old.
“You’ve got your father’s—my brother’s—stubborn streak. Your mother was content to let others make decisions for her, to obey your father’s wishes. Somehow, I don’t see your marriage being anything less than equal.”
“What marriage? Colton won’t give me a chance to be a wife.”
“Perhaps what you have now is better for the both of you.”
Julia smiled affectionately. “How did you get to be so wise, Aunt Theo?”
“One very short marriage of my own, with a husband who had the graciousness to die early.”
Before Julia could respond, Simon strode in. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he greeted, dropping into a chair. His eyes met Julia’s and he paused, assessing her carefully. “Not that I want details, but please tell me Colton didn’t hurt you.”
“Simon!” Julia felt her face grow warm for a second time in a few short minutes.
He held up a hand. “Jules, I would ask the same of a sister, which is precisely how I feel about you.”
Was the fact she no longer possessed a maidenhead so obvious? “Colton did not hurt me.”
“Well, if he does, I will have to kill him.” He leaned forward to pour a cup of tea. “He asked me to dinner, presumably to ascertain the reason for my hostility last night. I haven’t yet decided what to say.”
“Simon, you cannot stay angry at him over my financial situation. Tell him it was temporary jealousy.”
“Or,” Theo interjected, “a ruse to force he and Mrs. Leighton together. The battle of a common enemy.”
Simon said nothing, merely stared in his cup. Julia could tell by the hard set of his jaw he was battling his anger.
“You may take solace in the idea, Simon, that my plan is working. And Nick has no suspicion of my duplicity.”
Again, nothing. Julia changed the subject. “Colton and I are to attend the theater this evening. Are you coming along as well?”
“No. I will be engaged elsewhere tonight.”
“With Veronica?” Theo asked, stirring her tea.
Simon rolled his eyes. “Is nothing private in a house with two women? Yes, with Veronica.” He leaned forward. “Jules, has Colton said anything about the attempts made on his life?”
Julia blinked as her head swam. She gripped the arms of her chair to steady herself. “The . . . what? A-attempts on his life? To kill him?”
Simon nodded. “I’ve heard rumors. And it hasn’t been only in Venice. Apparently, trouble follows Colt wherever he goes. It’s one of the reasons he has that giant hulk of a man as a valet.”
“But kill him? Why?” Theo asked.
“No one is sure. Colton denies it, of course. Word is he was stabbed in Vienna. Now he never goes out at night without Fitzpatrick at his side.”
Stabbed, Julia thought in horror. She hadn’t noticed any evidence of a scar on his body. But then she’d been focused on other things last night.
“Regardless,” Simon continued, “when you’re with him, take care. Make sure Fitzpatrick is near if you’re out at night. I shouldn’t like it if you were hurt.”
“I daresay I wouldn’t like it either,” she mumbled, her mind churning with this piece of news. Why would anyone want to kill Nick? Well, anyone other than the wife he’d ignored for eight years. But it wasn’t her . . . so who was trying to kill the duke?
It wasn’t until the middle of the play’s first act that Julia realized something was amiss.
Yes, when they came in together, the legendary Depraved Duke and the infamous Mrs. Leighton, heads had turned their way. People craned their necks or stood up from their seats to get a better look inside Colton’s box. Julia had found it somewhat disconcerting, but Nick seemed to take it all in stride.
What troubled her was that the stares were directed at her during the play. Not with hostile expressions, but rather appraising ones. The women studied and remarked to their companions behind their hands, more focused on Julia than the stage. It drove her nearly mad. What were the women talking about?
She found out when Veronica and Simon came into the box at the interval.
“Simon!” Julia said, standing up to greet him.
“Evening, Mrs. Leighton. Colton. You remember Veronica DiSano.” With her slim figure perfectly outfitted in a luxurious blue gown, Veronica seemed to be having an issue with her coiffure. A long sweep of dark brown hair fell out and over the beautiful actress’s forehead. Julia tried not to stare as she exchanged greetings with the other woman.
Julia turned to Simon. “I thought you were engaged elsewhere tonight.”
Simon tipped his head toward Veronica. “We were until she heard you would be here.”
Veronica’s olive skin turned a dull red. “Well . . . I cannot be the only one not talking about Mrs. Leighton’s dress tomorrow.” She turned to Julia and gestured to her head. “What do you think of the hairstyle? Everyone has begun to copy it. They ask their maids to ‘Leighton-ize’ their hair.”
Julia’s jaw dropped. She gave a quick glance around the theater and noticed more than one woman with such a bizarre style. Heavens, Mrs. Leighton was setting fashion trends. “I am . . . flattered,” she managed, and looked at Simon, whose blue eyes sparkled with mirth.
“It appears Mrs. Leighton has some devoted followers,” he said, clearly struggling not to laugh.
Nick slid his hand to cup her waist and draw her tightly against his side. With his other hand, he clasped her fingers, brought them to his lips, and placed a kiss to the tips, his intense gray eyes piercing her soul. Julia shivered. “Utterly deserved,” he said. “And I find myself eager to join the ranks of just such a mob.”
“Will we see you at Florian’s after?” Simon asked.
Julia glanced at Nick, who looked impossibly handsome and ducal in his impeccable black evening clothes. He’d been attentive and relaxed all evening, but each time he glanced at her, the hunger in his eyes nearly knocked the breath from her chest. She suspected he had specific plans for after the theater.
“No, I don’t believe so,” Nick answered, his hand tightening on her hip.
“Well, we shall take our leave, then. Enjoy the rest of the performance,” Simon said before whisking Veronica away.
Nick led her back to their seats. “Will you come home with me, tesorina?”
Desire raced down her spine. Julia remembered every moment of the night before, how his touch had driven her wild. It was almost as if some force pulled her to him, making him irresistible to her. Even if she weren’t trying to conceive, Julia doubted she could refuse him. Not trusting her voice, she nodded in answer to his question.
He gave her a lazy smile full of promise. “Perhaps we should leave early.”
“Nick!” she whispered, aghast. “Everyone would see us.”
“Since when do either of us take notice of what people say?” The actors took the stage and the interior of the theater quieted. His lips found her ear. “I could take you, right here in the box. Slip my cock inside you and drive us both mad with pleasure. Merely say the word.”
His words sent a course of heat racing through her body. Julia didn’t doubt him for one minute. If she said yes, he would find a way to do it. “Behave, Nicholas,” she managed.
“I find it extremely difficult to do so around you. Especially in that gown.”
She’d chosen a particularly bright shade of blue silk this evening, with a neckline bordering on scandalous. Julia had resisted such a daring dress at first, but Pearl had clapped her hands with glee upon seeing the result, insisting Julia keep it. At least Nick appreciated it as well.
“I’m pleased you noticed,” she replied, unable to keep from smiling.
“How could I not? Every man in the theater is wondering just when your breasts will burst free.” He took her gloved hand and placed it on his crotch, where she felt his erection, long and thick
, through his breeches.
Oh, heavens. She suddenly couldn’t draw a full breath—and she definitely didn’t want to pull her hand away. Julia flexed her fingers, moving over him gently through the soft fabric. His shaft pulsed under her touch, and Nick groaned. “If you do not let go soon, this shall become truly embarrassing.” But he made no move to stop her, and Julia took that as encouragement.
She pressed her palm against him and traveled his length a few times. “Juliet,” Nick growled. His head dropped forward and he closed his eyes. One would think he was asleep if not for the muscle jumping in his jaw. Lord, he was beautiful. Julia turned toward the stage in an effort to calm her racing heart.
But all she felt was Nick, hard and hot, even through the layers of cloth . . . and she could hardly sit still for the sharp lust crawling under her skin.
“Let’s go,” he whispered harshly, pulling Julia to her feet.
Before she knew it, they were out of the box, headed down the stairs to the exit.
“My cape!” she protested through her laughter as he nearly dragged her along.
“I’ll buy you ten more,” he said before whisking her out into the cool Venetian night.
There was a hint of rain in the air and the moon cast a brilliant glow along the canal. Nick couldn’t speak as he led Juliet to his gondola. Heaven help him, he could hardly think. The bewitching minx had him almost spilling his seed in his breeches.
Yes, he’d started it by playfully placing her hand on his cock, fully expecting her to pull away. But she’d surprised him by continuing to stroke him, getting him hotter than he ever thought possible.
The woman was dangerous.
Fitz had merely raised his brows when they came out of the theater, as if he’d known what prompted the precipitous exit. But Nick didn’t care. He’d been partially aroused all night, from the moment he’d seen her in that gown. Small waist, creamy skin, luscious breasts . . . Juliet was sin incarnate with a hint of innocence. Something about her was so different than his previous lovers. He felt protective of her, as if she needed him somehow. Ridiculous, really, since women of her stature prided themselves on their independence. But he still couldn’t shake the feeling.