Rebel Marquess

by Amy Sandas

  He looped his arm beneath the hollow of her waist to hold her more securely to him as he swept his tongue into her mouth. The lovely taste of him burst past her lips and she groaned with a mixture of dismay and relief.

  It was a decadent kiss and Eliza wanted more of it. She tilted her head and met his tongue with hers, her bones melting. She grasped his face in her hands, loving the rough texture of the stubble on his jaw, and gave herself over to the exploration of what could be experienced in the passionate play of lips and tongue and teeth.

  He kissed her with the ferocity of pent-up desire and she responded in kind. Her skin grew flushed and her pulse tripled in speed. Bright new emotions stirred and she delighted in the delicate rush of power and pleasure.

  When he executed a sensual roll of his hips between her thighs, lightning sparks of pleasure exploded through her and she broke from the kiss to gasp for air. He rocked his hips again and her gasp turned to a heavy moan as heat bloomed in her sex. He slid his hand up the outside of her leg, pushing her skirt up to her hip. His fingers curled around the back of her thigh, reaching deliciously close to the center of her current frustration. Acting purely on instinct, she bent her knee and planted her foot against the sofa to lift her hips, pushing herself against the hard length of him.

  She feared she had done something wrong when his fingers dug painfully into the flesh of her thigh. He pulled back, breaking the lock of their mouths. His breath was ragged. Hers was thin and gasping. They stared at each other for a long moment and Eliza saw the battle waging within him. His desire was potent. She wanted to sink into it, be consumed by it, match it with every pulse of longing within her. But she saw a shadow of denial in his gaze. A hard note of resistance.

  Panic speared through her. She bit her lip against the words of entreaty that rose in her throat and met his gaze with all of her feelings exposed and raw.

  She needed him. And she knew in the depth of her marrow that he needed her.

  “After this, there will be no turning back,” he said in a gravelly voice full of tension.

  “I do not care,” Eliza whispered as she curved her hand around the back of his neck and urged him back to her.

  He lowered his head again and plunged his tongue past her teeth. Her entire body went up in flames. She lifted her leg higher against his side, urging him farther.

  He responded with a sweeping caress over the curve of her buttock and a decadent thrust of his hips.

  “Not here,” he muttered against her mouth.

  In a swift and sudden motion, he lifted himself clear of her body, rising beside the sofa so fast she barely had time to utter a sound of protest. Once on his feet, he reached for her. He wrapped his hands about her waist and before she knew it, he had tossed her over his shoulder to carry her from the room.

  A bubble of laughter escaped from her throat as he stalked down the hall.

  “What are you doing? Where are we going?” she asked, pushing her hands against his back to lift her upper body. Her hair loosened from its pins to tumble down over her face.

  “Somewhere more private.” He turned into a room and kicked the door shut behind him. A brief moment later, he lifted her from his shoulder and she fell back onto a high four-poster bed.

  “That was delightfully barbaric.” She grinned as she pushed herself onto her elbows.

  He stood at the side of the bed and started to unbutton his shirt. His harsh gaze traveled over her body, igniting more sparks of delicious sensation. He stripped the shirt from his body and tossed it aside.

  “You enjoyed that, did you?” he asked with an arched brow.

  There was something dangerous in his tone, but she couldn’t bring herself to focus on that as her senses were overwhelmed just then by the simple sight of him. Her breath caught as the wild tingling in her belly intensified. Goodness, but he was an amazingly formed man. Her gaze flew over the sculpted contours of his chest and abdomen. Her mouth went dry with the desire to press her lips and tongue to every inch of him.

  As if sensing her hunger, he stopped in the process of opening the front of his breeches and reached for her instead. He removed her shoes and then leaned over her and grasped her wrists to draw her to her feet. Standing between the hard wall of his body and the bed behind her, Eliza felt a wonderful surge of vulnerability. As he reached around her to release the line of buttons at the back of her gown, she laid her hands on the muscles that wrapped his ribcage and stood still within the circle of his arms, content for the moment to await his next move.

  Time seemed to slow as she breathed in the heady male scent of him, but soon he had the gown loosened enough that it slipped from her shoulders. The only sound in the room became the sliding whisper of silk and satin and the hushed whisper of bated breath. When the dress caught at the swell of her hips, he eased it past her curves with the flat of his hands sliding down the sides of her body. Her petticoat followed.

  Still without a word, he turned her around, keeping her positioned between his body and the bed. When he swept the tangle of her hair over her shoulder to expose the laces of her corset, her chin dropped forward and shivers cascaded like a fall of delicate sparks down her back. He pressed light, feathery kisses across her nape and she had to bite her lips against a groan and lock her knees to keep her legs from collapsing beneath her.

  He released the laces of her corset and removed the stiff stays. All that remained now was the light chemise, and suddenly that one piece of clothing felt unbearably cumbersome and suffocating. Eliza could remain still no longer. As she turned back to face him, she grasped the material of her chemise and whipped it off over her head.

  She heard his breath catch on a heavy groan and the chemise drifted from her fingers to the floor. Standing completely naked, inches from pressing her bare skin to his hard body, she lifted her gaze to his.

  The stark heat of need raged so profoundly in his dark eyes that an inexplicable sob clogged her throat. She swallowed down the swift rise of emotion and lifted her hands to lay them flat against his chest. Feeling the harsh thud of his heart beneath her palm gave her a rush of feminine power and she leaned into him, making contact by slow, torturous degrees. First the peaks of her breasts, then her belly and thighs. She slid her arms up over his shoulders and rose up onto her toes to press her mouth to the underside of his jaw.

  With a growl of possession, he wrapped her in his arms and lifted her off her feet to drive them both back onto the bed. They fell together, the welcome weight of his body crushing her into the softness of the mattress.

  Rutherford struggled to shove his breeches down his legs without breaking the contact of their bodies. Realizing his trouble, Eliza lent her assistance and the last of his clothing dropped to the floor. And then she felt it all; the heat of his skin, the crisp brush of hair on his legs, his solid muscled frame moving over her as he positioned himself between her thighs. And then the smooth tip of his erection was poised at the entrance to her body.

  They paused then as if in mutual acknowledgement of the line they were about to cross. He lifted his head to look fiercely into her face. So much in his expression felt like a reflection of her feelings and she smiled up at him. She lifted her hand to trace her fingers over the stern creases in his forehead until they flattened out. Then she ran her thumb over the firm line of his lips until they softened beneath her touch. He darted his tongue out to flick against the pad of her thumb. A gentle laugh bubbled in her throat and she lifted her head to press her mouth to his, sweeping her tongue against his to taste him fully.

  He grasped her head in his hands and kissed her back. A wealth of words were contained in that kiss, and Eliza heard every one of them. When he shifted his hips against her, she relaxed her thighs and raised her knees, entreating him to go farther.

  He obliged with a deliberate thrust of his hips that slid his erection along the seam of her sex, gliding in elegant contact against the sensitive bud at the apex. Showering sparks of pleasure spread out to every available cor
ner of her awareness. He repeated the action twice more while she gasped and lifted her hips for more. He obliged again, except this time he changed the angle of his thrust and the very tip of him pressed past her entrance and eased a short way into her body.

  The pressure of his penetration was intrusive and hot and incredible.

  Eliza arched her back. A whimper escaped from her lips and he responded with low murmurs of comfort and encouragement. And all the while he pushed forward, claiming her body, her heart and her soul. The pain was inconsequential to the lovely possession and fulfillment. Eliza held her breath from the wonder of it all and did not even realize he had stopped moving until she felt his breath ragged with forced control against the side of her neck.

  They were so deeply joined she could feel the pulse of his member against her womb. And something new and amazing began to happen then.

  The stretching pressure within her began to lessen, and as it did, the burning pain of her rent virginity receded. The taut muscles of her thighs trembled and heat bloomed in the place where he pressed so intimately into her body. She realized she needed him to do something.

  She wanted to move. She wanted him to move.

  He lifted himself to his elbows so he could look into her eyes. Eliza thought perhaps she should be embarrassed by this new level of familiarity between them, but she met his gaze openly.

  “Are you all right?” The rough texture of his voice warmed her nearly as much as his concern. “The pain?”

  Eliza slid her fingertips up and down the surface of his broad back, feeling giddy and languid all at once. “The pain has gone, but…”

  “What?” His brows furrowed. “Something is wrong.”

  “It is just…” she paused, uncertain how to voice what she wanted. She shifted beneath him and the small movement caused him to draw a tight breath between his teeth as he closed his eyes. “There is more, isn’t there?” she asked hopefully.

  His eyes opened again and she saw a flash of surprise in his gaze, then his beautiful lips curved into a smile and a warm chuckle rolled from his chest. “Yes, you minx, there is more. Much more. I wanted to be sure you were ready.”

  Eliza smiled back at him. She arched her back and wrapped her arms more tightly around his back. “I am ready. Please tell me what to do.”

  “No,” he said gruffly as he lowered his head to press hot kisses across her chest between her collar bone and the swell of her breasts. “I will do everything. All you need to do is feel.” His murmured words rolled across her skin, and he slowly withdrew from her sex.

  Eliza’s eyes fell closed at the delicate sensation aroused by the strange friction. Before he completely left her, he slid forward again, claiming her anew. The pain had gone and she felt only pleasure in the glide of his body in hers. His movements were long and leisurely, as if he would willingly take a lifetime to ease her initiation into this heady new realm. He coaxed pleasure from her body with slow and torturous attention. His strong hands roamed her curves, caressing and gripping her thighs, drawing her legs higher around him as he plunged into her core. And his mouth teased. His tongue laved the sensitive pulse behind her ear, the slope of her shoulder and the peaks of her breasts.

  The build-up was slow, wondrous and exhilarating. After a bit, something fierce and demanding began to swirl with the pleasure flowing from her center, making her limbs tense and her back arch deeply. She curled her fingers into the muscle of his shoulders and moaned with the clawing need that overtook her. The pleasure that had been growing began to spark with sharp points of sensation. Then the sparks flashed into a rushing wave that flooded her entire body. The pleasure overtook every bit of her awareness. It took her very breath. She squeezed her thighs tightly against his hips and she curled her face into his shoulder as she rode the sensations to their end.

  It was beautiful. Unbelievable.

  He was still moving within her. The throbbing thrust and retreat of his hard member feeling hotter now with the new sensitivity of her inner flesh. He cradled the back of her head in his palm and his other hand gripped her buttocks as his thrusts grew more rapid and his breathing more ragged. She pulled her knees up under his arms, opening herself to him completely. As she felt him tensing, the amazing pleasure burst again within her and the inner pulsing of her body matched the rhythm of his release.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bliss.

  That was the word that kept floating through Eliza’s head as her body relaxed by slow degrees and her heart slowed to a reasonable rate. The marquess’s head rested on the pillow beside hers and she lazily trailed her fingertips up and down his back. She was glad his face was tucked against her neck and he couldn’t see the silly grin stretching her lips.

  She wondered why she hadn’t heard more about the sex act before now. Oh, she knew how it was done. She had learned the mechanics of it years ago by eavesdropping on her sisters’ conversations. But she could not believe their discussions had not included more of what she had just experienced.

  The consuming need, the heat and the ultimate pleasure. The complete, wondrous bliss.

  Perhaps it wasn’t always like this, she considered.

  It made sense Rutherford would be exceptional in this as he was in so many other ways. Or perhaps they were exceptional together.

  The thought gave her a rush of satisfaction.

  Lost in her musings, she nearly shrieked when the marquess gave a sudden jerk of his big body.

  “What happened?” she asked quickly.

  He issued a short series of growling sounds that may have been an attempt at words. Then he stilled again. But a moment later, as her fingertips feathered up the outer curve of his ribs, he jerked again and clamped his arms tight against his sides. This time the sound he made was definitely a growl.

  Eliza choked back a laugh, realizing the problem. To test it, she waited until he relaxed again then lightly drew her thumbs up under his arms.

  He jumped violently and in a rush of sudden energy lifted himself to crouch over her on his hands and knees. He glared down at her with an expression that should have been fierce if not for the cause of it.

  Eliza couldn’t stop the laughter then. “You are ticklish,” she accused, grinning up at him.

  He arched a brow. “And that amuses you?”

  She shrugged. “Let me see.” And she reached out to wiggle her fingers high against his sides.

  His reaction was so fast she barely had a chance to touch his skin before he grasped her wrists and pinned them above her head. “Not a good idea,” he advised in a tone heavy with warning.

  Eliza felt a rush of something other than amusement then as she took in the details of their position. They were both still completely nude and her thighs were parted around his hips. His large body was bent over her and the muscles of his chest and arms bunched with the slightest shift of his weight. His sheer physical command was in a perfect juxtaposition to her flushed softness. Rather than making her feel weak or ineffective, she felt infinitely powerful.

  She ran the tip of her tongue over her teeth as she lifted her gaze to meet his. “Definitely amusing.” She hadn’t intended for her voice to sound so thick or sultry.

  His dark eyes gleamed with haughty arrogance. She bit her cheek to hold back her smile.

  “Do you find this funny as well?” he asked as he lowered his head and drew her nipple into the heat of his mouth.

  Eliza stretched and arched as his tongue teased the peak of her breast. With her hands secured under his, she could not slide her fingers into his hair as she wished. When he began to withdraw the attention of his mouth, she could only arch her back in an attempt to keep it there.

  He lifted his head to look at her dangerously.

  “What about this?” Still holding her gaze, he flicked his tongue briefly against her other nipple, causing it to pucker in protest at not receiving the same lavish attention as the first. But the hardened peak only elicited more taunting flicks of his tongue. As Eliza watche
d, he scored his teeth across the sensitive tip. The whimper that started in her throat turned to a moan as a sharp spear of pleasure traveled swiftly to her sex. She lifted her hips in an instinctive response and felt the subtle brush of his erection against her inner thigh.

  At the brief but potent contact, he released her hands and lifted himself away from her, leaving the bed altogether.

  Eliza blinked up at the ceiling, the flush of desire heating her skin. She sat and looked around but the marquess was gone. Without a word, he had just left the room.

  Realizing he couldn’t have gone far, she slid to the edge of the bed and lifted her chemise from the floor. She pulled the light garment over her head and slid her arms into the short sleeves as she stood.

  She walked quietly to an inner door, which had been left open, and peered inside. It was a bathing room. A large bathing tub was already filled with water and the marquess was adding more from pots that were steaming on a small stove in the corner of the room. The floor was the finest Italian marble and the walls were tiled in pure-white porcelain. She glanced up and saw the ceiling was painted with a stunning fresco.

  Catching sight of her in the doorway, the marquess nodded his head toward the tub, “I had ordered the bath earlier. The water isn’t terribly cold.”

  Eliza felt no shame in giving in to the urge to peruse the sight of his nude body. When she saw his full arousal, desire pooled between her legs and she looked up to meet his gaze.

  “Why did you leave me like that?” she asked.

  The firm lines of his expression slipped a bit. “You need some time.” Eliza would have denied it—she didn’t need time, she needed him—but he continued without allowing her a chance to interrupt. “Make use of the bath. I will wash in the other room.”

  Then he walked stiffly past her, leaving her alone in the steaming wash room.

  Eliza gazed at the tub with longing. The idea of sinking into the heated water was too great a temptation. She removed her chemise and lowered herself into the water. She lathered the cake of soap she found in a dish on the edge of the tub. Its scent was all him. That lovely exotic citrus and rich spice. She generously spread the lather over her body. The idea of making her skin smell like his caused an odd little twist in her belly. After a few minutes, that twist grew into an ache.