He hauled her up by the armpits, the bathwater cascading over them both to the tub and floor. A hand catching up her sopping wet hair, he crushed her to him and sucked at her lips as she gave him the sweetness of nectar. “Two can be tempted, madam.”
“I don’t want to be tempted, Jack,” she told him on a sigh. “I want to be satisfied.”
He made an ungodly sound in the back of his throat. His eyes grew dark with desire. “As before?”
“Definitely.”
He glanced toward his bedroom. “I doubt I will make it to the bed.”
“Why not here?” She could not resist taunting him.
He growled and tugged her toward his own larger tub. Climbing in, he sank and led her to join him. The water was delicious. Her hunger for him rabid. His charm irresistible. “What if we love here? Would that please you?”
“If you, milord, are loving me,” she teased him with a toss of her head, “yes. You think there is room?”
“You are so nimble. And I will endeavor to match your dexterity.” He pulled her toward him and put his mouth to her belly to kiss her navel. “Get in here, my darling. Let me lick your lovely nipples, tempt you, take you. Christ, you taste good. There. Now come closer and wrap your legs around my hips. ”
Her eyes went wide at her risqué thoughts. Her gaze fell to his cock and what she might do here with him in such a confined space. She yearned for his hands on her, in her, his rod filling her. She shut her eyes, swaying, intoxicated with him and his alluring ways.
“Look at me, wife. You can wash me.” He took her hand and dropped a small towelling into her palm.
“Everywhere?” She tingled with the prospect.
“Of course.” He leaned back, closed his eyes and draped his arms over the rims.
She stared, admiring the man who would allow her such liberty.
He opened one eye to observe her. “I am your husband and you may have all of me. As I have had all of you.”
“And was I…?” She bit her lip and began to soap his chest.
“What?”
Oh, hell. She could ask. She had done so many intimate acts with him—and he had given her nothing in return but truth and erotic delight. “Was I worth having?”
He covered her hand with his. “Do not doubt it.”
Her eyes grew moist. “For such a kind man to think that I am worthy of him is—”
“Emma. Darling. I am a man of the town. Not accomplished at anything, really, except running this estate and a few investments. You compliment me too much to think that you must be worthy of me, when I am the one who strives to be worthy of you.”
She glanced away, modesty and joy triumphant in her heart. “You do like me.”
“Look at me. I like so many things about you. Shall I tell you, darling?”
She nodded, appreciating the way he settled his legs beneath her, his penis rising to nestle along her seam. He brushed his hands down her arms to draw her close, then stroked errant curls behind her ears. “You have the most amiable constitution. Funny. Wise and honest, too. A refreshing mix. Then there are your looks, madam. The sunny hair, the alluring grey eyes and intoxicating skin. Your stunning oval face. The fullness of your lower lip and the rich bow in your upper. A confection to gaze upon. So alluring that my mouth waters. You like my descriptions? You are blushing, sweetheart.”
She nodded. Her breasts tingled, her insides turned to wet flame, her mind went blank of nothing but him and his power to enthrall her.
He stroked her back and her buttocks, hugging her nearer. “I like your body too, my darling. A delicious meal.”
“Oh, you are being romantic now!” she scoffed, decadent and loving the richness of his words, yet fearful of succumbing too much to his spell.
“And honest.” With gentle fingertips, he traced her calves and thighs. “Shapely legs like carrots.” She snorted as he lifted an arm in the air. “Long limbs like celery stalks.” She laughed as he weighed a breast in his palm. “Firm apples here, topped by ripe strawberries.” She whimpered as he skimmed her ribs. “Strength of character here.” Her navel. “An orange.” Her nether hair. “Hmm. And what is this? A coconut?”
She pinched his forearm and snickered.
“And this,” he whispered as he slid two fingers up inside her channel and she squirmed to get closer, “this, my wife, is a succulent passion fruit.”
“You are a sinful man,” she said as she laughed against his lips.
“I hope for you I am a better man,” he told her as he shifted and his cock probed at the entrance to her body.
“The best man,” she affirmed and pushed forward. “The only man.”
“Only yours,” he told her as he claimed her, and she wished his statement could be true forever.
She strained upward, grinding down to get him deeper inside her. He kissed her breast, pinched her nipple, then sucked it into his mouth.
She gasped, arching up and needing more. “This is no good!” she ground out. “This tub is not big enough for your satisfaction and I daresay at this angle it will do nothing for mine!”
He sputtered in glee. “Stand up then!”
She rose in a whoosh of water.
He did the same and stepped out, then grabbed her and backed her to the wall. “I’ll have you climax here,” he growled and hooked her leg up around his hip to plunge into her. She felt her swollen body part and give, allowing him inside her with slick ease.
She cried out in languorous delight. She lolled her head against the wall, her eyes half-lidded with desire, one hand winding round his neck so that she could get her footing. “Please, oh please.”
“I should say please. I should not rush you, use you.”
“Do. Have me as you will, when and how you will.” She opened her body wider, allowed him all of her.
“Oh, my pet. You melt for me and I feel you in my blood, my soul. How is that? How?” His hips pistoned inside her. He kissed her chin, her ear. “I must have you, fuck you.”
She quaked, rejoicing in his raw words. Speechless, she clutched him with all her might and bit his shoulder as he pounded inside her with a fury she’d not known from him.
He filled her up with his cock and his passion until she moaned in fulfillment, his strong thighs supporting her as he pounded into her over and over. She shook with the turbulence of it and rejoiced in the crazed pleasure.
He came with a growl that reverberated in her bones. She felt his hot seed burst inside her core and she sank her fingers into the satin of his hair. His hands gripped her thighs, held her securely as she pulsed for long minutes in the glory of his claim.
“Oh, Christ,” he mourned, brushing her hair from her face as he let her to the floor. “I hurt you.”
“No, no! Never!” She clawed at his upper arms. “I need you. More. More.”
“Yes, here,” He sank to his knees and pulled her to the floor. He spread her out on the deep sapphire carpet and his mouth covered her mound, his hands spread her wide as he settled between her legs. Her thighs fell open. Her heart too. “Let me bring you pleasure again.”
She gasped as his hot tongue defined her cleft and she sought to rise to watch him. The sight of him licking her, petting her, thrusting a finger up inside her. Ecstasy washed over her. Mindless, she shook her head. Desire ran through her like thunder. “Jack. Jack, darling. This—this is madness.”
“Aye, Emma, darling.” He stopped his delicious torment to gaze at her with love-glazed eyes. “Every bit of you is made for mad, luscious loving.” He licked her folds.
She keened, reached out a shaking hand to proclaim somehow that she adored him.
“And this little bud here,” he told her as he flicked at some tender part of her, “is a sweet meat I must suck.” He demonstrated and she caught her breath. “And nibble.” He did it and she moaned. “Roll and pinch.” He used his expert fingers on her and she cursed at him. “Fuck you, aye, darling, I will. Let me have this part of your hot little chat, too.”
This time, he plunged one finger up inside her to massage her. Then another finger stretched her and made her arch off the floor. Yet another finger filled her to stroke her with such dexterity, she felt tears gather. “Come again, my wife,” he urged her, breathless as her body once more opened, swelled and erupted in a shower of passion that made her scream down the house.
Jack drifted over her, warming her, kissing her cheek and burying his cock inside her still pulsing and wildly tender body. “You come so easily, pretty wife, I fear we must hope the servants are deaf.”
She chuckled and wrapped her arms around him, moving her hips to revel in the length of his cock buried so deeply inside her. “I want to feel like that again and again. May I? With you?”
“I stand at the ready at any moment. Say the word.”
“Really? Oh, my. You are serious!” She tingled, her thighs hugging him closer.
“I will attempt to fulfill madam’s every desire.” He proclaimed with feigned humility, then drove inside her with a heathen’s grin. “Where next would you like to climax?”
Chapter Seven
By three o’clock the next afternoon, when Madame Duhamel arrived, Jack could count the marvellous encounters he had enjoyed with his new wife…let’s see. Three times? Or was it four? Each a more ardent and fascinating coupling than the last.
The dining room, he thought to himself as he bounded down the stairs to meet the dressmaker, had been a wild repast. At half two in the morning he had rung for Simmons, told the butler to rouse Cook from their mutual bed and asked for sustenance. Then he had gone back to Emma and led her down the stairs to feed her from his fingers. Bits of roast beef. Pieces of baked potatoes. Sugared plums. He snorted. What were they compared to the way she licked his flesh and nipped him after each taste, her luscious lips swollen from his kisses, her naked body beneath his robe the most enticing of the offerings laid before him? He’d had her there, standing up against the linen-fold walls. Then again, bent over a mahogany sideboard, her incomparable grey eyes wide with wickedness as she glanced over her shoulder at him. And upstairs, in their bed twice more, at the least. Insatiable was a word which took on new meanings for him. No woman had ever held him with her intellect and wit, as well as her body, like his new wife did.
Dressed to receive the dressmaker, he chafed under the necessity of donning frockcoat, shirts and breeches. He’d rather remain naked with his bride, but hell. She would need clothes soon and when she did, he would have her looking every inch the part of his viscountess. He took the last few steps down to the drawing room, smiling wickedly at the thought of his wife appearing nowhere else but in his bed sans every stitch of clothes. But needs must. Be good now. Not proper to appear before the wise owl Duhamel with a rampant erection, old man.
“Bonjour, Monsieur le Vicomte.” The woman dipped her head in deference. “A lovely day.”
“Superb, Madame. Let me see what you have done.” His gaze shot to the item draped over her arm, covered by a satin wrap.
She extracted the wool coat of dove grey, epaulette closures of black braid. “Madame la Vicomtesse will look divine in this.”
“I agree.” He took the coat in his hands, the merino soft as eiderdown. “A good choice for the wool.”
“We will have all the rest tomorrow, Monsieur. The negligees, Madame’s green robe for her boudoir, the evening gown, and two day dresses.”
“Excellent, Madame Duhamel. I will include a bonus for your promptness.”
“I am most grateful, Monsieur. My bill for services will not appear until you have all the garments you ordered for Madame and I know that you are happy.”
“I am most grateful.”
She lingered before him. Normally so self-assured, she pursed her lips and appeared perplexed.
“Is there a problem, Madame?”
“Not at all. I simply wondered if you had seen this?” She took from her dress pocket a paper. A broadsheet, to be precise.
“No. I never read that one.” He recognized the heavy print as that of a paper from York which only reprinted items from a notorious publication out of London. “It is a rag, Madame.”
“But it speaks of you, Monsieur, and your little wife.” She strode forward and placed it in his hands. “You should see it, my lord.”
An hour later, Jack made his way back to his wife. Tiptoeing inside their bedroom, he paused at the foot of the bed and considered this lovely creature who had darted into his life so haphazardly. His darling Emma. She sprawled across the linens, her arms up in the pose of a carefree spirit, her head turned to one side, her lips parted in exhaustion, her elegant legs open as if she welcomed him back inside her, even in her sleep. He smiled and laid the coat aside on the nearby chair. Loathe to wake her, he strolled into his bath chamber. The remains of their baths last night were strewn about still. He had not allowed the maids or footman in here. Not yet.
But life intrudes, does it not?
Mourning the need to leave this nest, he sat on the edge of one of the copper tubs and ran a hand across his mouth. Once more, he affirmed the resolutions he had made downstairs in his library after reading the scurrilous story in the broadsheet. He would destroy Pinrose and Trayne. Quickly. Financially. To make her life happy now.
According to the broadsheet, the word was out that Emma had gone missing from her home. Her stepfather had questioned his staff and learned where she’d gone. To whom and how. Pinrose had sacked his coachman and a maid for their collusion. He’d vowed to have satisfaction from Jack.
But Jack knew Pinrose well. Satisfaction, in his case, did not mean a duel. Pinrose could not wield a sword. The man never had any grace or style to impart to fencing, let alone work any talent with a pistol. The only way Pinrose had ever made a mark on anyone was by bullying them. And you shall never get Emma in your clutches to threaten her. Just wait and see, Danny. You shall not best me.
“Jack?” His wife’s sultry voice, thick with slumber, permeated his reverie.
“Yes, darling, coming!” He strode into the bedroom.
Naked, lithe and exquisite as a nymph, she stood, the sight of her halting him in his tracks and nearly sending him to his knees with lust. She bent over the coat, her tapered fingers caressing the cloth the way she caressed his skin.
“It’s absolutely beautiful, Jack.” Her gaze met his. “Will you help me put it on?”
He crossed his arms, assessing the living breathing temptation before him and fighting the urge to skip the banter and have her where she stood. “Why? Are we going out?”
Her expression blossomed into a glorious smile. “Visiting neighbors? Introducing me to the village? The local doyennes? Why, darling,” she said with dulcet tones to the endearment that set his heart to flutter, “I do hope not!”
In two strides, he had her in his arms. One hand to her nape, one to her derriere, he crushed her to him for a kiss. “You shock me, Madam.”
With a saucy toss of her head, she drifted backward to their bed. He followed, the contrast of the dove grey wool against her milky flesh a sight his body responded to with quick heat. But when she opened the buttons of his breeches and reached inside to extract his shaft, he could readily say he was even more stunned and infinitely satisfied as she pushed him to the bed. Then rose above him to ask, “Might I surprise you if I say, I do not care if we ever leave this room?”
Would that we could remain, my sweet. He touched her lower lip with a fingertip. “We’ll stay as long as possible, Emma. How could I leave such an enticing invitation?”
She beamed at him. Temptress that she was, she stroked his cock.
He caught his breath and shut his eyes.
She bent and sucked him fully into her mouth.
And his heart stopped.
“You will not hate me for this?”
He barked in laughter. “Never.”
“And you like this?”
Like? He opened his eyes, his mind afire by her possession as he trained his gaze on her. �
��I have no words to tell you of my praise.”
She rolled a shoulder. “I was inspired.”
“I am in awe.”
Her lush lips parted in glee. Her eyes twinkled as she looked from him to his erect cock and back again. “Will you teach me more?”
He snorted. “I daresay, sweetheart, on your own, you are creative.”
She grinned, then trailed her tongue over his slit. She kissed his tip and pulled away to examine the expression on his face.
He was certain he looked like a spellbound idiot.
She ran her thumb along his seam. “I never want to bore you.”
He hooted in laughter and sank his fingers into her curls. “No chance of that, my pet.” I’d lock you up and throw away the key if I were a cave man. But then I’d be like Pinrose. I want you free. And wild. And mine. Because the only way to prove to you I am the best man for you, is to prove I would never keep you against your will.
****
The next afternoon Madame Duhamel arrived on time. From the sumptuous disarray of their bed, Emma protested that she had to dress and reached to grab his wrist and bring him back to her side.
“You are pouting, darling,” Jack chuckled, leaned over her nude body, his own as naked. Winking at her, he swatted her derriere.
Admiring his impressive proportions of chest and thighs and other charming attributes, she looped an arm around his neck. “I am a bride. A cosseted bride and I can be petulant if I care to.”
“Madame Duhamel has your clothes, Viscountess! Will you make her wait?”
“You get them. They’ll fit. She took my measurements. Besides, I don’t need them.” She rubbed her thighs together, her body aflame anew to have him deep inside her. It had been hours since she’d felt him sink inside her to the hilt. Much too long. “Do I?”
He watched her writhe in sinuous entreaty and his silver eyes darkened. She vibrated in triumph to lead him toward ribald ideas. “Eventually.”
“Jack,” she crooned, outrageously eager and bold, “I am very tender.”
His black brows shot high. His mouth curved and his tongue came out to lick his lips. “You are throbbing?”
The Stanhope Challenge - Regency Quartet - Four Regency Romances Page 23