by Tessa Bowen
His big dark hands cradled the mound, gently but firmly claiming the life within. She felt a stirring not in her belly but lower in her nether region. She wasn’t sure why she’d ever denied herself his touch. The feel of his heat was as comforting as it was arousing. She supposed she’d never experienced such a high temperature in a body before. This was England after all—the land of cool cucumbers. This man was no cool cucumber. He had hot coals glowing under his skin, skin that covered a body that thrummed with a potent life force. Some of that potency grew inside her now, swelling and ripening with each passing day. Perhaps that’s why she found herself craving his touch. She only knew one thing: She wanted him to melt the ice cubes in her cucumber cooler and now.
On pure instinct she covered one of his hands with hers. “I find…I rather like your hot hands on me…Jack.”
THE WAY SHE SAID HIS NAME MADE HIM TINGLE IN HIS TOES. Her fingers wrapped around his, lifting his hand away from her bump to place it on another swell, this one a good deal softer and fleshier and in the definite region of her rack. Not in the region, on the region—and what a glorious mountainous region it was. His fingers sunk into downy flesh, guarded behind the barricade of some corseted nightmare of a bra. The silly female contraption wasn’t doing its job, for her ripe breast spilled into his hand, overflowing it with delicious plumpness. For a second, Jack just stared like a dumb animal. The contrast of his tanned fingers against the white lace placket of her dress was rather striking.
Involuntarily, he tightened his hold on the bountiful globe, weighing it in his palm before caressing over the circumference. That’s what a guy was supposed to do when he had a woman’s breast in his hand, right? He watched her reaction as the pad of his thumb met with her distended nipple. Her minky eyelashes fluttered as her eyelids lowered to half-mast. Her features relaxed into a seductive expression and a little sigh escaped her parted lips. The sigh soon turned into a purr. Her provocative sounds were drawing him, turning him on. And oddly enough so was her big belly. She seemed ripe for the plucking. He wondered if the place between her legs had ripened too, not that it hadn’t been succulent before. His cock (already roused) sprang boldly to life at the thought. Their breath mingled as his other hand (the one that had been on her abdomen) crept up her torso to capture her other breast.
“Are you trying to get me to sleep with you again?” he asked in a husky murmur.
She nodded as she arched into his touch. “Yes…Jack.”
There was that tingle again, this time it wasn’t in his toes. It was in the stiff length of his trouser rod. All the blood was leaving his brain, heading south at a rapid pace, but there was still enough oxygen going to his noggin to warn him this wasn’t a good idea. Sure it would feel nice—damn nice. And it might even be a little special.
After all, he’d never had sex with a woman who was carrying his baby. It was bound to be meaningful and more than a little erotic for both of them. He would relish rediscovering her body this way, finding out what pleased her. He’d have to be gentle of course, not like before. Not that he’d truly let loose before, but this time he’d be extra cautious. Maybe he’d come at her from behind and place his hands over her belly while he moved inside her. If that was too much, she could sit astride him (like before) and take the lead. He’d still put his hands over that belly. Something about the idea excited him and that was precisely why he couldn’t go through with it. There would be nothing casual about this interlude. It would actually mean something and therefore would put him on a path to fuck-knows-where.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “I can’t. I’m already too far in.”
She licked her lips in a sultry gesture. “I’d like you deeper in, if you catch my drift.”
Jack’s eyes rounded and his jaw fell open.
Holy shit—she’s a man-eater.
He dropped his hands from her as if she’d burned him. He stumbled backward, grinning in boyish surprise as she came for him. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
Laughing with a mixture of gleeful amusement and nervous anticipation, he made a ridiculous show of covering himself like a virgin about to be ravished. “Something tells me I won’t be sleeping on the couch but under the couch tonight, crouched in a little ball shivering in terror. I’ve seen that look in your eyes before. I better make a run for it.”
She backed him up against the velvet sofa and hiked the slim skirt of her dress high enough to straddle his lap. “Don’t be ridiculous—the only thing you’ll be under is me. And if you want to crouch that can be arranged.”
“Guess those hormones have really kicked in.”
“So what if they have. You said earlier I would need you and I do need you. I have a woman’s needs and they need to be fulfilled.”
“That’s a whole lotta needs.”
When he chortled, she swatted at him like an annoyed kitten. “The least you can do for making me agree to that wretched verbal contract is…is...”
“Put out?”
Her brow furrowed in honest confusion. “Oh…I was rather thinking you’d put it…in.”
He broke into a fresh round of chuckles. “You’ve got it real bad.”
“You display the most surprising combination of masculine command and youthful exuberance. It makes you entirely infuriating and quite… irresistible.”
He wore a playful smile, dimples dancing. “You find me irresistible, do you?”
“As well as infuriating.”
When she wriggled atop him, he winced and stifled a moan.
“Why do you resist? I can feel your arousal.”
“Where I come from, we call that a hard-on.”
She let out an annoyed puff of breath. “Well, I can feel it, so I know you want me.”
His hands encircled her still slim waist. He allowed his fingers to curl far enough around her rib cage so that he could feel the swell of her belly. “Of course I want you, it’s just not a good idea…”
“It’s not as if I can get bloody pregnant,” she hissed in frustration.
“You’re already pregnant,” he said just to drive her crazy.
“Precisely—perhaps your body has responded out of pure instinct, but the actual idea of having sex with a pregnant woman repulses you.”
She deflated in his lap. She looked so damned sad as she started to rise off him that he clasped her closer, so she couldn’t retreat. “No, it’s not that—and I think we’ve established I’m not ‘repulsed’.”
“I suppose you don’t like older women then…”
“Older women are sexy,” he placated. “And you’re only a little bit older.”
How could he explain to her why he couldn’t go down this road with her? How could he explain it to himself with her beautiful body wrapped around his? He was forgetting why he had denied her in the first place. Jack only knew that he liked her sitting on his lap like this, with her belly between them. He liked teasing her too. He liked even more the idea of feeling her in this same position but naked instead of fully dressed. Jesus, did he like her? Not just her top-ten tits and her belly with his kid inside it, but her? He couldn’t take the path that led to the bliss in her drawers. Like could easily turn into…
“Have you ever been with an older woman…Jack?”
Jack couldn’t remember at that moment for she’d recovered from his harassment and resumed her seduction. She wrapped her hands around his neck and was running her nails through his scalp.
“Not sure, I don’t make ladies fill out a form or anything.”
“Perhaps an older woman could teach you a thing or two.”
His hands slid lower to grasp her hips, fingers seeking out the rounded curve of her backside. “What could an old crumpet like you teach me I don’t already know?”
She took the bait with a viperous glimmer in her green eyes. “I may only have been with one man all those years, but rest assured I am well-versed in the art of lovemaking. You don’t get to be the Devil Duke’s mistre
ss for twenty years if you’re a snore between the sheets.”
Jack could feel his face harden. His body hardened too, tensed up like steel. He wondered if his veins had hardened. The only part of him that wasn’t hard was his dick. That had softened in a matter of seconds. The only reason he didn’t toss her off him was because she was pregnant. Still, it was without any tenderness that he plucked her from his lap and placed her on her feet. He was just rough enough that she let out a little huff of protest when his fingers dug into her waist to push her away from him.
“You’re on your own, Baroness.”
“I don’t know why you take offense when I mention my former lover’s name. It’s not as if you are willing to do the honors. Anyway, your assistance wouldn’t be required for very long.”
“My assistance?” he spat. “What am I, your sex valet?”
“I just meant I’ll find a lover after I have the baby.”
“Poor bastard.”
Jack was in his own little huff as he stalked across the room to pilfer some of her pillows. He slammed them on the couch and snapped a blanket over the cushions. With jerky movements he stripped down to his boxer briefs and flung his long body down on the sofa. He threw an arm across his eyes. “Let’s call it a night, ok? I’ve had just about all I can take.”
“Why are you in such a temper, Mr. Johnson.”
He uncovered his face to glare at her. “Oh, it’s Mr. Johnson again, is it? So you call me Jack only when you want to get laid, is that it? Let me fill you in on something basic, lady. You may be five years older but you don’t know shit if you think mentioning one guy is ok while you are trying to seduce another guy.”
“Perhaps that was an error…”
He gave an exasperated flip, turning on his side away from her. “Yeah, you think? Go to bed, for fuck’s sake. Hasn’t this day been long enough for you?”
“Well, what am I supposed to do in the mean time?”
“What are you talking about now?” he hissed, punching at the pillows.
She sighed like a petulant child. “For sex—what am I supposed to do for sex while I’m pregnant?”
“What the rest of us do, play your own fiddle.”
There was a very long pause and then…
“Will you be playing your own fiddle, Mr. Johnson?”
He rolled his eyes. “I think I’d rather choke myself with piano wire at this point.”
“I don’t know what the problem is. We’re both adults.”
“I don’t like pushy women—I like to be the one to take charge.”
Another long pause…
“Duly noted—I’m just not used to that in a man is all, but now I know. I mean before, with—”
“Don’t fucking say it. Or I’ll throw the goddamn minibar out the window. Jesus Christ, you’re nothing but trouble, lady.”
Jack could almost hear her nostrils flaring.
“Fine,” she seethed. “I won’t ask again.”
“Fine—don’t.”
Jack ground his face into the pillow as he listened to the rustling of silk along with her breathless pants. This went on for what seemed like an eternity. Finally he let loose a groan that shook the room and flipped to face her. She had her hands behind her back, wriggling in frustration.
“I can’t get the buttons undone…”
He bounded from the couch, flinging the blanket across the room in his agitation. “Turn around,” he ordered. “I’ll get you out of this rigging, but no more funny business.”
She presented him with her back and a very long row of covered buttons. The row started at her nape and went clear down to the top of her crack.
“The dressmakers offered to conceal a zipper, but I wouldn’t hear of it.”
Jack began to slip the delicate silk-covered buttons out of the equally delicate silk loops. “Great, so you don’t know how to diddle yourself and you don’t know how to undress yourself either.”
“Something tells me I will have to learn.”
“Learn what?” Some of the annoyance left his voice as her dress fell open to reveal most of her porcelain back. He didn’t know which was smoother, the satin of her dress or the satin of her skin.
“How to diddle and undress myself. You’ve made it plain you aren’t going to assist me with either task.”
Jack couldn’t help but snicker. “I think you need to learn how to undress yourself before you can diddle yourself.”
“Quite right you are.”
The dress was unbuttoned all the way now. The fabric gaped wide, exposing her lace panties and the tops of her garters.
Hot damn, she’s wearing garters.
Jack had the urge to snap one of them and watch the creamy skin of her rear bloom with color. She threw him a haughty expression and then swept past him toward the bathroom.
Jack stared at the ceiling as he listened to her bash around in the bathroom. For a woman who moved with such grace she sure made a ruckus in the john. Then again maybe she was just noisy when she was pissed. He wondered how noisy she’d be if he’d snapped her garters.
Garters on her wedding day.
He cursed his own renewed erection and slammed the pillow that had been over his face onto his cock stand instead. Yeah, the night had gone well until she’d mentioned her goddamned boyfriend. That ginger fruitcake had tried to cut in earlier on the dance floor. And she’d actually batted her eyelashes at him and told him “she was otherwise occupied”. They were both lucky he hadn’t caused a scene. His fist itched to connect with the Duke’s face even now.
Jack knew he would never sleep when his new wife crashed out of the bathroom in a flounce of chiffon. He couldn’t resist a peek as she ripped the comforter off the bed and began rearranging the pillows with vigor and a certain amount of jiggle.
He smirked. She jiggled in all the right places now. Her swollen breasts bobbed with her forceful effort and her tight tush twitched in the lacy shorts she wore. He’d never seen that sort of combo in women’s lingerie. Chicks usually wore nightgowns to bed, or if they were less glamourous, a t-shirt. This woman definitely fell into the glamorous category. He liked her little knicker and camisole combo. It showed off the new curves on an otherwise sleek body.
“You wear your hair like that even when you sleep?” he asked.
She scowled at him as she arranged herself under the covers, then snapped off the lamp next to the bed.
“I let it down at the very last minute and only when the lights are out.”
“That bad, huh?”
“It makes Medusa’s bad hair day look like Farah Fawcett’s best hair day.”
Jack smiled in the darkness. He’d liked the way she looked a second ago on all fours, ass hiked in the air, frilly lace covered cheeks offered to him. He shifted awkwardly as his hard-on reached new levels of swellage. He wondered if he’d ever see her hair down. He wondered what it looked like—or what the hair between her legs looked like. Was it waxed down to nothing? And was she a natural blonde? He couldn’t think about the goddamn hair on her head or the hair “down there” and he couldn’t think about her backside either. In fact, he had to get far away from her as soon as possible.
He’d leave tomorrow.
“I’m going away again…”
He listened to the satin sheets rustle as she sat up in bed. “You’re leaving?”
“Uh huh, but I’ll be back before the kid is born.”
“Perhaps Nubia needs a lesson in how to undress herself too.”
His grin widened. She’d muttered the words, but he’d heard them clearly. “I told you I don’t stay in one place for very long.”
“The man of bloody mystery…”
Jack’s smile faded. He wasn’t so mysterious, just horny and confused—and restless as hell. His smile turned into a frown as he thought of something.
“Hey Slim…?”
“Yes?”
“Promise me something while I’m away?”
“What’s that?”
“You won’t ride—I don’t want you on horseback. Not even at an easy little clip, all right? It’s too risky.”
She hesitated for only a moment. “All right.”
“Promise me.”
A long sigh escaped her. “I promise.”
Jack screwed his eyes shut. He couldn’t risk looking her way. The filtered light through the curtains might illuminate that beautiful body of hers.
“Think of all the extra time I’ll have to learn the art of self-pleasure,” she continued tartly.
Jack’s hard-on twitched. He had to think about baseball or even hockey if he wanted to cool down enough to sleep. One thing was for sure, he couldn’t think about her “diddling herself” or he’d never survive his first night as a married man.
Chapter Five
The Baroness held out the stuffed bear to the freckle-faced girl. “I hope your teddy likes his new friend.”
The Duke’s daughter, Charlotte, gave her a toothy grin before snatching the toy from her grip. “Bernie will have to put him to the test, but I’m sure they’ll work well together.”
Abigail’s lips twitched as the precocious child inspected her new bear. She was a wild-looking thing with her ten million freckles and riot of red curls. She had her father’s grey-blue eyes and no doubt she’d be a rare beauty someday. For now, she was a little tartar with her mud-stained pinafore and tangled locks. Charlotte and the Duke’s new wife seemed to be partners-in-crime. The Baroness was very glad to have them both on her side now.
Trevor cocked a brow at his daughter. “What is the proper thing to say, Charlotte?”
“Thank you for the teddy, Baroness,” the girl chirped automatically.
“You’re very welcome. And do accept my apology for daring to suggest your Bernie be replaced by a newer version,” Abigail said, referring to the girl’s tattered teddy bear. “There is nothing wrong with the old version.”
Isabel gave the Baroness an encouraging smile as she adjusted her fairy wings. Charlotte was wearing a pair too, bright yellow and covered in glitter.
“Would you like to play dancing fairies with us?” the girl asked.