Claimed by the Marquis

by Carole Mortimer

  More hours of repeatedly asking herself these questions had followed, but Sally knew her decision was already made. That her mind had been made up since she faced the thought of a whole summer of not seeing or being with Nicholas, in fact, and only her pride had held her back from saying so.

  Nicholas having written to her nullified the need for her own pride, and she had finally succumbed and written an even shorter note back, informing him she would be packed and ready to leave at eleven o’clock the following morning. Her maid had delivered the note, but there had been no reply.

  Her parents had expressed great disappointment after receiving the note she sent to them explaining she had decided to spend the summer with friends rather than joining them, as had originally been planned.

  “Sally.”

  She glanced across to where Oxbridge lounged comfortably on the seat opposite her own in his very best carriage, a sleek and racy affair pulled by even sleeker horses. A much heavier carriage had called for her maid earlier this morning, Rose and Oxbridge’s valet traveling into Berkshire together. Leaving Sally to travel alone with Oxbridge in the plushness of this carriage.

  So far, Oxbridge had made no comment in regard to the reversal of her decision, and his expression was such that she had no hopes of being able to tell what he was thinking. What he might think of her for having agreed to accompany him after all.

  “I do not know which emotion to feel the most, admiration or fear.”

  Her eyes widened at Oxbridge seeming to be able to read her thoughts. Although it was perhaps not too difficult for him to do so; no doubt her own expression was tense enough to have revealed exactly what she was thinking and feeling. Terror and excitement, at the risk she was taking with both Oxbridge and her reputation.

  She swallowed. “What is there for you to fear?”

  “Nothing,” he acknowledged. “But you… You, Sally Derwent, are a woman unlike any I have ever known before.”

  She looked at him beneath lowered lashes. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

  “I have no idea.” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “No other lady has ever asked to sketch me nude. No other lady of my acquaintance would have agreed to travel with and then stay alone with me on my estate in Berkshire.”

  “Then perhaps you were correct”—her tone was waspish—“and I am neither decent nor a lady. For I find I do not regret my decision in the slightest.” She would feel happier if Oxbridge would only show some emotion, something of what he was feeling. A small sign he was pleased to have her here with him would suffice.

  And perhaps dispel the butterflies which seemed to have taken up residence in her chest.

  He sat forward to place one of his much larger hands over her own gloved ones as they lay clenched together in her lap. “We will be stopping for lunch shortly.”

  She frowned at his change of subject. “I have no appetite.”

  “Neither do I.” He paused before adding, “Not for food, at least…”

  “Will that be all, my lord?”

  “Yes, thank you, John.” Nicholas was terse as he dismissed the curious landlord of the coaching inn. “We do not wish to be disturbed, for any reason,” he added before the man left with obvious reluctance.

  Nicholas had secured a private dining room at the back of the busy building, their cold luncheon and a flagon of wine having arrived quickly and already set out at one end of the large table standing in the middle of the barely furnished room. There was only the table and the eight chairs placed about it, a bench seat along the back wall, the fireplace unlit in the warmth of the day.

  Nicholas was well aware of the reason for the landlord’s curiosity. He called regularly at this coaching inn for luncheon on his way to Oxbridge Park, but it was the first time Nicholas had brought a woman with him.

  Sally hadn’t spoken a single word since they alighted from the carriage, and she now stood in front of one of the windows, her back toward the room as she looked out onto the busy stable yard, her shoulders discernibly tense beneath the dark brown pelisse worn over the bodice of her gown.

  “Sally.”

  She drew herself up straighter still before slowly turning to face him, her expression unreadable beneath the brim of her bonnet. “Nicholas.”

  He drew in a sharp breath. “That is the first time you have used my given name.”

  Her lips curved in a self-mocking smile. “It seems a little ridiculous to stand on ceremony, given the circumstances.”

  Nicholas studied Sally’s face beneath the brim of a bonnet made from the same deep gold silk as her travel gown. Her eyes were an even deeper gold today, cheeks paler than usual, lips a deep rose from where she had been chewing on them for most of the journey.

  He had been telling the truth earlier when he said he admired her. Sally was not only direct and outspoken—sometimes outrageously so—she was also a woman who was determined to travel her own path, in a world dominated by men and a set of rules dictated by the Society to which they both belonged. This, being with him, intending to spend the summer with him, went against every one of those rules.

  Sally was determined to do it anyway.

  Which was why he both admired and feared her. For her.

  Nicholas knew himself well, and he could not spend the whole summer with this particular woman and not make love to her.

  But he was not a gentle or an easy lover, and Sally should be made aware of that before they reached Oxbridge Park. Before that arrival committed her totally to the risk of scandal that could ensue if anyone learned of her presence in his home. He meant it when he said he did not care for himself. But Sally…

  Nicholas knew he had deliberately dared her two days ago, tempted her by allowing her to touch him but not complete those caresses. As he had been taunting her when he told her by the fourth day of his posing nude for her, she would be the one desperate for a lovemaking he predicted would be wild and frenzied.

  Words that had come back to haunt him.

  He had believed himself relieved when Sally refused to accompany him to Berkshire. Had told himself he was well rid of a woman who aroused him merely by breathing.

  That evening, he had gone to his club, gambling and drinking heavily, returning home in the early hours of the morning, utterly convinced he had put Sally Derwent from his thoughts.

  Until he lay down in his bed and the throbbing hardness of his cock refused to abate, even after he had brought himself off twice. It just swelled back up again, eager and ready to go.

  Utterly disgusted with himself, Nicholas had done his best to ignore that painful ache and finally fallen into a fitful sleep. A sleep dominated by huge golden eyes, and full and rosy-tipped breasts he suckled and pulled on, until he heard Sally’s cry of release echoing around his brain and shuddered and shook as he found his own release. Over and over again, the dream repeated itself, until Nicholas woke fully in the pale light of dawn, covered in sweat, his sheets sticky with his own cum in a way they had not been since he was very young and inexperienced. And perhaps not even then…

  The thought of spending a whole summer that way had been intolerable, which was why he had decided to write Sally a terse note informing her of his plans to leave Town the following day. The hours until she wrote back, informing him she would be ready if he should call for her, had dragged by interminably.

  With days and weeks of her company ahead of him, Nicholas knew he could wait no longer to determine what he intended their relationship to be from now on. There was still time for Sally to return to Town, with no one the wiser, if she should decide she did not want this after all.

  With that in mind, Nicholas crossed the room in long strides to stand in front of her, holding her widened gaze with his own as he unfastened the ribbon bow beneath her chin securing her bonnet, before removing it completely and putting it to one side. The tops of her breasts quickly rose and fell as his fingers deftly unfastened the two buttons on her pelisse before he disposed of that too.

 
“Nicholas…!” Sally gave a surprised squeak as she suddenly found herself thrown over Nicholas’s shoulder and carried across the room. “What are you doing?” she gasped as he carefully lay her down across the end of table not covered with food.

  “Eating my luncheon.” His answer more resembled a growl as he first bent her legs at the knees and then hooked the small heels of her soft leather boots far apart on the table’s edge, before stepping in between her widely parted thighs.

  The skirt of Sally’s gown had rucked up to her waist, revealing the tops of her silk stockings, held up by ribbon garters, and her white silk drawers that somehow seemed more immodest than if she had been wearing none at all.

  “Are your curls the same gold here, I wonder?” Nicholas did not bother to remove her drawers—Sally was not sure that he could have done so, in any case, with her lying in this position—but instead grasped each side of the open gusset and simply pushed the flimsy material out of the way, exposing her completely to the heat of his gaze.

  A modestly brought up young lady, Sally had never seen herself there, either growing up or since, but she had looked at drawings of a lady’s privates in her collection. It was not true that all ladies looked the same between their thighs. There were slight differences—pretty pink lips guarding a tiny rosette, fatter lips and a more lax opening, often slick with juices, the nubbin above sometimes small and covered by its hood, and then so swollen its redness was fully exposed amongst the curls.

  Sally sincerely hoped that she was as pretty there as she thought some of those other ladies to be.

  That Nicholas thought she was pretty there.

  After all, he was so much more— “Oh!” Sally gasped breathily as she felt the light caress of the warmth of Nicholas’s fingers against her folds.

  She closed her eyes as that warmth spread straight to her core, followed by the release of her lubricating cream.

  “No.” Nicholas placed a hand on each of Sally’s knees to prevent her from covering herself. “You’re beautiful here. Perfect.”

  The perfume of her arousal—musky and hot—filled and saturated Nicholas’s senses as his fingers returned to stroking the dampness of her crease, and then up to where her nubbin was already swollen. A tiny throbbing erection, much like his own larger one pressing demandingly against his pantaloons. Considering the number of times he had spontaneously released in his sleep again last night, he chose to ignore that greedy demand for now.

  “I am going to devour you.” He stroked the wetness of her pussy round and round until his fingers were covered in her juices before moving slowly up to her clit. He stroked and tweaked that nubbin until it stood up firm and pulsing, and the deep-rose-colored lips beneath were plump and parted invitingly.

  It was an invitation Nicholas was only too happy to accept as one of his thumbs continued to press and stimulate her clit. He lowered his head to first breathe in the heady scent of her musk, then tasted it when his tongue slipped over and around those moist and responsive lips, before plunging hard and hot inside the contracting walls of her channel.

  Sally cried out as her sudden release washed over and through her. She cried out a second time as Nicholas’s mouth was replaced with thrusting fingers and his lips claimed her still-pulsing nubbin and suckled deeply. His tongue flicked against that throbbing nubbin, sending her into another release even more intense than the first, carrying her along on a wave of ecstasy she felt for a moment as if she had lost all sense of reality.

  The rustle of Nicholas’s clothing brought her quickly back to her senses, a glance down showing that he had unfastened his pantaloons completely and released the long length of his swollen cock, the crown a bright red and already moist with his juices.

  Was Nicholas going to take her here? In broad daylight? On top of a table at a roadside inn?

  Chapter 9

  If anything, Nicholas was more aroused than he had been two days ago, and the size of his cock reflected that arousal. He had never seen it so long and swollen, and so thick around he was not sure his own fingers would be able to span it.

  But did he really want to take Sally for the first time draped over a table at a coaching inn? A table half-covered with the food for their luncheon, and the room smelling of beer from the busy saloon just feet beneath them? Her cries of ecstasy may already have been heard by the patrons below.

  No. He couldn’t do that to her. When the two of them finally came together, it would be in his bed at Oxbridge Park. A leisurely, sensual taking of each other, after which they could curl beneath the bedsheets together and fall asleep in each other’s arms—

  He never spent the whole night with a woman. Ever. That sort of intimacy tended to give them a false sense of his attachment to them. And while he admired and liked Sally, he did not intend to become emotionally involved with her. Or any other woman.

  Nicholas strengthened his resolve. This, what was between them, was sexual attraction, nothing more. And it was now past time Sally sated his sexual arousal, as he had satisfied hers, several times. Sentiment had no place here between the two of them.

  Sally had no idea what was happening as Nicholas moved up onto the table, his knees resting on the tabletop either side of her as he straddled her breasts, his cock just inches away from her mouth.

  “Open,” he growled, his hair falling forward over his face as he bent forward to grasp the edge of the table behind her head, his cock now pressing for entrance against her lips.

  Sally parted her lips to answer him, only to have her mouth suddenly filled with that wide crown. She groaned low in her throat as she had the first taste of him on her tongue, sweet and salt together, with an underlying musk. Delicious.

  Her lips were stretched to their fullest as he pressed more of his cock inside her mouth, one of her hands moving up to grasp the inches that wouldn’t fit inside. She was once again surprised by how silky soft the skin of his cock felt. Sketches and paintings were all well and good, but they did not portray the feel of that steel encased in velvet that now invaded every inch of her mouth as Nicholas slowly began to thrust forward.

  Anyone walking in on them—God forbid!—might think she was being forced, even violated, but they would be wrong. Nicholas had pleasured her so many times and received nothing back in return but the satisfaction of knowing he had given her that pleasure. She now wanted to give him the same ecstasy. More than wanted it, she craved it.

  It was exhilarating to know, by the unevenness of Nicholas’s breathing and the way his arms shook as he exercised restraint to hold himself back from thrusting deeply into her mouth and possibly hurting her, that she was responsible for affecting this strong and arrogant man in this way. It wasn’t only exhilarating, it was freeing, and in a way Sally had never felt before.

  Her fingers tightened about him, and she began to suck and then stroke with her tongue each time he pulled out and then thrust in again, quickly matching her rhythm to his, and knowing by the deepening groans and the heavier flow of juices into her mouth that his release was imminent.

  “Dear God…” Nicholas looked down at Sally in shock as the fingers of her other hand moved down to become a tight band about his balls, instantly stopping the hot flow of his cum from erupting upward. One look into her deceptively innocent eyes and he knew it was deliberate.

  Where in hell had she learned to do that? From reading those books of her grandmother’s? Or from practice with other men?

  The thought of it being the latter, and the knowledge she was daring to tease him, was enough to make Nicholas thrust harder and faster. Those thrusts became erratic, half-pleasure and half-pain, as the pressure of his cum built up inside him, needing the release Sally was refusing to give him, his groans becoming almost desperate as he refused to beg for mercy.

  No matter what he did, grinding, thrusting so deep his cock hit the back of her throat, Sally took it all. The expression of joy in her eyes as she looked up at him said she was enjoying every moment of it.

  “Plea
se…!” he finally groaned. He no longer cared if he sounded as if he was begging—because he was. He couldn’t take any more of this torture. “Sally, for God’s sake— Yes! Oh God, yes…!” His shout was triumphant as those fingers loosened at last and his cum shot up his cock with the force of a volcano erupting, arriving in her mouth in hot, thick ribbons, which she swallowed down greedily.

  Nicholas felt as if he was shattering apart as he kept coming, and so fiercely still, it was as if all his strength was being drawn from his body with each shuddering release. As if he hadn’t released for a month or more, when in reality, he had ejaculated more in the past two nights—more often than not on his bedsheets—merely from dreaming or thinking about Sally.

  Even when the pulsing release finally shuddered to an end, his cock didn’t soften but remained hard and aching as he pulled out of the furnace of Sally’s mouth.

  His eyes narrowed as he moved back slightly to bend down until his face was only inches above hers. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  Sally blinked at the harshness of Nicholas’s tone, and she was unsure of the emotion behind the glitter in his eyes too. “It was not to your liking…?”

  “Do not be so bloody— Of course I liked it.” He sounded exasperated. “I merely wondered what other surprises you might have in store for me over the next few weeks.”

  “Oh.” She nodded her relief. She would hate to think that Nicholas had been shocked or not enjoyed their lovemaking as much as she had. “My grandmother’s books are quite…enlightening. I have brought several of them with me, in case I am in need of in—inspiration.” She substituted that word for the “instruction” she had originally intended to use. She didn’t want Nicholas to find her wanting as a lover. That would never do when he was so sexually experienced himself.

  The strength of his thighs kept his full weight from her as he sat back to straighten his clothes. Except his cock was so rigid still, the crown so swollen, it didn’t seem to want to go back inside his pantaloons. He glanced down as Sally giggled. “You find your effect on me to be amusing?”