He did his best to modulate his enthusiasm. “Yes, but only if you want to.”
“I think I do.” She squirmed against him. “Watching them is making me feel strange. Restless.”
“I can ease you. Satisfy the ache.”
“Now?”
His mouth dried. He didn’t want her first time to be pressed up against a wall in a depraved club. “As soon as we make our escape from this place.”
Delilah took his hand and shuffled toward the curtains. A chesty groan from the man in the other room stopped her short. He pumped his cock and spent into the woman’s open mouth. With a saucy smile aimed over her shoulder at the onlookers, the woman rose, scooped up the mess on her chin, and sucked her finger clean.
“Turnaround is fair play, isn’t it, my lord?”
“Indeed, it is.” The man slipped from the chair to his knees, not bothering to refasten his trousers. The woman sat with her bottom at the edge of the chair and propped one foot on the man’s shoulder, leaving the other on the floor, her knees spread wide.
The secret place between her legs was shadowed, but Marcus could tell she wore no underthings. The man’s first lick between her legs sent a quiver to his knees. True pleasure flitted across the woman’s face. She might be a whore, but she was truly enjoying herself.
Delilah shot him a questioning look. Marcus smiled. “Yes, love. I’ll pleasure you like that too.”
Marcus was anxious to make their escape for a sundry of reasons. The longer they remained at Fieldstones, the more vulnerable they were. Marcus wanted to examine the book in private, but even more than that, he needed Delilah. Base instincts overrode even his burning desire for the truth.
It was their wedding night, after all. He’d planned to wait until the tangled web of deceit surrounding his father was unraveled. He wanted to woo her and give her a chance to get to know him better. The inn wasn’t the ideal location. None of his good intentions or plans mattered. The way she clutched at his lapels told him she wasn’t going to allow him to play the gentleman.
He took her hand, brushed the curtains aside, and tugged her toward the main hall. Paying them no mind, the couple in the space next to them kissed and fondled one another, flashing scandalous amounts of bare skin.
Delilah stumbled into him when he stopped to decide on their exit route at the top of the stairs. Her eyes were huge, taking in everything and everyone around them. The corridor was more crowded than when they’d entered the viewing gallery, and the buzz of conversation coming from downstairs was louder. Good. It would make slipping out unnoticed easier.
He and Delilah descended the staircase, but when she would have taken a step toward the curtained off hallway they’d entered through, he pulled her flush against him and whispered, “Too dangerous to retrace our steps. Better to take our leave through the front door as if we have nothing to hide.”
She nodded. He tamped down the instinct to hurry, keeping his steps slow and measured as they weaved their way through the crowd. It was as if Bacchus himself had arrived to oversee the gathering. No sense of modesty or decorum afflicted the couples and threesomes frolicking on the chaises scattered throughout the room.
Finally, they stepped into the chilly night. The afternoon drizzle had cleared, leaving the world outside damp and foggy. A wigged footman stood at the top of the stairs.
“Can you summon us a hack?” Marcus asked.
“Aye, sir. Right away, sir.” The footman’s accent was broad and country-fed. Marcus wondered what the young man thought of the revelries inside, or perhaps he didn’t understand the depravities taking place behind the elegant facade.
With an efficiency that would do any household proud, the footman had a hack at the curb in moments. While Marcus gave the jarvey their direction, the footman handed Delilah into the carriage. Marcus pressed a coin into his hand.
“Blessings to you and your lady, my lord.”
“Thank you. We need them.” Marcus rapped on the door and the hack lurched into motion.
Delilah turned to him, her knees bumping his. “I had no idea.”
“I had no idea such a place existed, either,” Marcus said.
“No. I mean, yes, that is quite shocking as well. In fact, I think I recognized a few of the patrons, but I’m speaking of the sorts of things that take place in the marriage bed. Mother led me to believe it was something to be endured. I already knew, of course, that I enjoyed kissing you, but—”
With an unexpected hesitancy, she reached out and lay her hand on his thigh, then slid it upward until her fingertips grazed his still-hard cock. He let out a growl and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close enough to kiss.
All his good intentions had been burned to ash by desire. Wooing would have to wait. He was an animal, plundering her mouth and nipping at her lips. She was equally crazed, her fingernails driving into the muscle of his shoulder while her other hand moved to fully press against his erection. Her curiosity outpaced her innocence.
He should have guessed Delilah would be as adventurous and brave when it came to sexual intimacies as she was in life. He slid a hand up the slick fabric of her gown to her breast, barely contained by the bodice. Her nipple was budded against his palm. He could stand it no longer and tugged the fabric lower.
Her breast was pushed high, full, ripe, and begging for his mouth. He lowered his head, his gaze cast upward to watch the wonder and shock flicker over her face as he teased his tongue across the tight peak. When he sucked her nipple into his mouth, her eyes closed, and her hand curved around his cock, making him groan.
The hack jerked to a stop. He lifted his head and stared into her half-lidded eyes. Her lips were red and puffy from his earlier kisses. With her breast exposed, she already looked well-tumbled. He lifted the edge of her bodice but could still see the outline of her nipple.
“Wait here a moment.” He took a deep breath and refocused his attention from his cock to the possibility of lurking danger. He couldn’t afford to take chances now that he had acquired the book and had Delilah to protect.
Hopping to the pavers, he got his bearings and scanned the small courtyard and the alley running to the side of the inn. Nothing struck him as out of the ordinary. After paying the jarvey, he gestured for Delilah to descend. He tried—and failed—not to stare at her décolletage as she leaned forward to take his hand.
He whisked her into the common room and toward the stairs to their chambers. The man who had accosted Delilah earlier was still there and followed them with his hooded gaze. The hairs on the back of Marcus’s neck wavered. He stopped midway up the stairs and glanced over at the man once more, but his gaze had fallen to his ale.
Marcus locked the door of their chambers, pulled the book he’d pilfered from Gilmore out of his pocket, took a breath, and opened it. Hawkins had mentioned the book was in a cipher, so he didn’t expect to see a declaration in ink of his father’s innocence, although it would have been nice. The book held page after page of gibberish. Letters that spelled nothing were interspersed with random numbers.
Delilah looked over his shoulder. “It’s likely more complicated than a Caesar’s cipher. Perhaps a Vigenère’s cipher which means we need the key word.”
The book merely posed other unanswerable questions. He closed it and fought the urge to break something. The book held great value, or Quinton would not be dead and Gilmore so terrified, but there was nothing to be done at the moment. With the book in Marcus’s possession, they could retreat to his country estate forthwith to study it at their leisure.
He shrugged out of his jacket after tucking the book back in the pocket. “How do you know about ciphers and keys, wife?”
“Wife,” she repeated with a whimsical smile. “That will take some getting used to. But to answer your question, I recently read a novel about an antiquities hunter trying to enter an Egyptian tomb.”
“You do realize your novels aren’t real.”
“Where would we be if I hadn’t suggested bringin
g along a decoy book? Hmm?”
“It was a stroke of genius.” He was rewarded with a saucy smile that made him want to strip that garish gown off her where she stood.
“The heroine in this particular novel had to decipher a series of hieroglyphs using a key she found in a different tomb. It was quite exciting.” She leaned against a poster at the foot of the bed. “As was tonight.”
Marcus picked her up and set her on the edge of the mattress. She yelped, grabbed hold of his arms for balance, and didn’t let go. Leaning forward, he kissed her. The primal intensity from the club and hack ride home had banked like coals, flaring with the addition of a bed.
“I had intended to wait,” he murmured, his fingers tugging impatiently at the tapes of her gown.
“Until when?”
“Until I could woo you properly. Until you were comfortable with the thought of me in your bed. Until you wanted me.”
“I do want you.” Her declaration sent satisfaction whizzing through him, even though he knew she didn’t understand what she wanted yet. But she would very shortly. The bodice slipped lower an inch at a time. She caught the fabric to her chest before her breasts were exposed to his hungry gaze.
“Should we put the candles out?” Nerves had stamped out the bravado in her voice.
While she might indeed want him—and he was desperate for her—she was a virgin, and this was her wedding night. He would make sure she enjoyed the night, even if it killed him.
Chapter 12
Cool fingers of air swirled over the scandalous amount of exposed skin along her bosom. Another inch, and she would be completely exposed to his gaze. And his mouth. Dear God, his mouth had performed a wondrous act in the carriage.
Her mother hadn’t been given the opportunity to share the customary pre-wedding night talk with Delilah, but from what she’d gleaned, husbands visited wives in the darkness to avoid any embarrassment. Delilah was expected to close her eyes and endure.
“The candles, Marcus, please.” She splayed her hand over her chest, the slippery fabric shifting against the skin of her breasts erotically.
“You are entirely too lovely to make love to in the dark.” He leaned in to lay a kiss on the top curve of her breast. “Allow me see you. Let me touch you.”
The command in his voice was strangely alluring. If she hadn’t observed the couples frolicking in various states of undress and intimacy at Fieldstones, the request might have left her nonplussed. But it was easier to envision now.
And then she forgot the existence of modesty when he nudged the top of the bodice aside and flicked her nipple through her white shift with his tongue, rendering the fabric nearly transparent. Oddly enough, the heat rushing to her face caused shivers to course through her body.
Her dress puddled at her waist, leaving her in only the thin, low-cut shift. He worked the fabric over her hips and dropped it on the floor. Her slippers and stockings followed. He pushed her shift up her thighs.
The disparity in their states of undress struck her as unfair. She pulled his shirt free at the waist while he unwound his cravat. His shirt joined her dress, and she was now thankful for the candles, because his chest was a marvel.
Light brown hair peppered the taut, lean planes. She ran her hands from his waist up his chest and over his shoulders, reveling in the feel of his skin under her fingertips. The ridges and dips of muscle and rough hair were a contrast to the curves and smoothness of her body.
He seemed as thrilled and enchanted by her form as she was by his. Tugging the straps of her shift over her shoulders, he didn’t stop until the garment was at her waist. She didn’t have time to be embarrassed or cover herself. He cupped her breast and sucked her peaked nipple into his mouth. The pleasure drove the restless feeling between her legs to new heights.
Using the weight of his body, he pushed her to lie on her back, her legs still dangling over the edge of the bed. Somewhere in the maneuvering, her shift disappeared, as did her drawers. She was naked.
His body covered hers, and she spread her knees to accommodate his hips. He brushed his lips across hers. While she appreciated his show of restraint, she wanted him to lose control with her. She flicked her tongue along the seam of his mouth. With a groan, he deepened the kiss.
Yes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, spearing her fingers in his hair. The friction of his chest against hers made her hips undulate against him.
He raised slightly and whispered, “Are you ready for another adventure into the unknown?”
“At your side? Always.”
“I was thinking more between your legs.” His smile was so puckish and naughty, she couldn’t stop from smiling back.
But her smile transformed into gasping shock when he slid down her body, grasped her ankles in his strong, callused hands, and spread her legs, pushing her knees close to her chest. At first, she tensed at the position, but as his intent became clear, she let her head drop back and closed her eyes, gloriously at his mercy.
Before tonight, she would have never been able to imagine such a thing, but now her body longed for his scandalous kiss. As she teetered on the cusp of begging him, his hot breath skated over her core, followed by the stroke of his tongue across the most sensitive part of her. Words became impossible.
She spoke in breathy moans and ceased to worry about her nakedness or her vulnerable position. In fact, she moved her feet to the mattress and lifted her hips. His tongue and lips worked an alchemy, and the feeling of a fraying rope ready to snap had her back arching and her muscles quivering.
The tension bordered on pain, and a sob escaped her throat. She needed something else—something more—but she was unable to articulate what, because she didn’t understand it herself. She fisted her hand in his hair and moved her hips.
As if he was fluent in her body’s language, he slipped a finger along her core as his tongue daubed at the knot of sensation between her legs. He filled her with two of his fingers, easing an emptiness she hadn’t recognized until that moment.
The tension broke, and pleasure washed over her. Her body clenched his fingers as he pumped them in and out of her in a rhythm her hips recognized and matched. A languid satisfaction came over her, and she stretched her arms over her head like a cat finishing its cream.
Marcus stood, his jaw slack and his eyes hooded. While his one hand loosened the disks at the fall of his breeches, he sucked the fingers of his other hand in his mouth. The sight made her body clench once more.
“You are lovely in every way, Delilah.” His breeches fell to his knees, and he gripped his cock. It was thick and long, the head flanged and dusky.
She said the first thing that popped into her head, “Your cock is lovely too, my lord.”
The chesty sound he made was a cross between a growl and a laugh, but she was too enamored of the length jutting from between his legs to pay his amusement at her expense any mind.
The woman at Fieldstones had taken the man’s cock into her mouth. After what Marcus had done for her, she wanted him to experience the same pleasure. Scrambling to her belly, she turned so she faced him.
“Would you like me to work your cock?” she asked hesitantly, mimicking the woman at the club. Could she fit it in her mouth? When he didn’t answer, she cast her gaze upward, wondering if he hadn’t heard her or if she hadn’t been clear. She moistened her lips. “With my mouth, I mean.”
Another grunt-laugh emerged from him, but a grimace tightened his mouth, not a smile. He wrapped a hand around her nape, his thumb caressing her jaw. “Desperately, but only if you wish to, Delilah.”
She returned her attention to his cock, wrapping her hand around the base and skating her lips across the tip. The skin was softer than she’d imagined, even as the length was like holding an iron rod. Twirling her tongue around the flanged end, she savored the slightly musky, very manly scent and taste of him.
She took him inside her mouth, only managing half his length before gagging and retreating to catch her breath.
His hands threaded through her hair as she sucked him inside her mouth once more. His hips pumped, setting a rhythm she recognized from the fingers he’d thrust in and out of her during her wash of pleasure earlier.
She squirmed on the bed, the emptiness of her body making itself known once more. What would it take to satisfy her?
Marcus stepped back, stripped off his boots and breaches, and joined her on the bed, flipping her to her back.
“You didn’t finish, did you?” She was confused. Marcus hadn’t shot any fluid from the end of his cock like the man at Fieldstones.
“I shall finish inside you.” He pushed her legs apart and settled his cock against her core.
Finally, she understood what it would take to satisfy her need. Her body clamored for his cock even as her head wondered how he would fit. The tip of his cock prodded for entrance.
“Will it hurt?” She gasped the question out.
“As it’s your first time, I expect it might be uncomfortable.” He dropped to press a quick apologetic kiss on her mouth. “But you’re slick with wanting me.”
It was true. She wanted him and tilted her hips in invitation. He pushed farther inside her, and her body clenched with pleasure. The pleasure became a pinching pain, but he didn’t stop until his hips were seated between her legs. He held himself still over her with arms that trembled.
“I need to move, love. Are you ready?” His voice was strained and harsh.
The feel of him impaling her and his weight pinning her hips to the bed was foreign. She was at his mercy and wasn’t sure if she was ready or not, yet she nodded, not wanting to disappoint him.
He pulled almost all the way out of her and then buried himself once more. The primal rhythm of his thrusts banished her trepidation, and an unexpected pleasure built in her belly, the same tightrope of tension from earlier, but with a new urgency as they both chased the same goal.
His hips moved faster and harder, and his breathing turning ragged. She clutched at his shoulders, scoring him with her nails as she went over the cliff and crashed into the waves of pleasure.
A SINFUL SURRENDER: Spies and Lovers Page 14