The Naked Baron

by Sally MacKenzie

  But she did. Finally she opened the last button and his fall fell away. He’d dispensed with drawers this morning, not knowing at the time what an inspired decision that was, so his heated flesh sprang naked into the cool air of the room and Grace’s gentle touch.

  “Oh, my.” Grace stared at the prize in her hands. So this was the male member. She ran her finger carefully from its root to its tip. It jumped…with delight? David sucked in his breath sharply. She glanced up at him. His face looked strained, but in a good way.

  His voice sounded strained, too. “You can”—he swallowed—“touch…me…all you want, love. You won’t hurt me.”

  “No?” She wrapped her hand around him. He was large and warm, soft and hard. Quite different from her.

  “No.” He was almost panting. “N-not at all.”

  “I see.” She grinned and moved her hand up his length. He groaned. Her fingers flew away as if burned. She frowned at him. “You said I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “And you didn’t.” He moistened his lips. A bead of sweat slid down his face. He seemed to be having difficulty forming sentences. “That was a groan of pleasure.”

  “A groan of pleasure?” She looked extremely skeptical. And, God, she wrapped her lovely fingers around him again. Some day he would love to play this game—let her take the lead entirely—but not today. Today he needed to get to the…point before he collapsed or spent himself ignobly in her hand.

  “Indeed. Here, I will make you groan, too.”

  She snorted. “No, you won’t.”

  Zounds, he loved her. He would never have guessed this kind of love existed. He’d made love to enough females—but he now realized it had never been love he’d been making.

  He grinned. “Would you care to wager on it?”

  “Well…” Grace hesitated—and then grinned back at him in a delightfully shy, mischievous fashion. “Yes. What shall be the stakes?”

  “Hmm. If I make you groan, you will do one thing in bed that I ask you to do.”

  She frowned. “What kind of thing?”

  “Something you will enjoy, I promise.”

  She laughed. “All right. And if I win?”

  “Well, I’m not sure you’ll have won if you don’t groan—and I shall be very disappointed with myself—but if you don’t, I will do one thing you ask me to do—in bed.”

  She chewed on her lip for a moment. “Very well, I accept your terms.” She held out her hand to seal the agreement.

  He clasped it and pulled her against him. Wonderful—but his breeches were still in the way. He wriggled out of them and picked Grace up.

  “Oh! Be careful. I’m too heavy.”

  “No, you aren’t.” He lifted her higher, so his mouth could reach one of her nipples. “You don’t seem at all heavy to me.” He flicked her nipple with his tongue and she squeaked.

  “I should have bet I could make you squeak.” He carried her over to the bed and dropped her onto the mattress, making her squeak again. “But that would have been too easy.”

  He joined her. The mattress must still be lumpy, but he didn’t feel it now. Grace wasn’t complaining either. She was spread out on her back, looking trustingly up at him.

  God, he felt such love. He wanted to make Grace groan, yes, but he also wanted to make her laugh, keep her safe, give her children, entwine his life with hers year after year after year until they were truly inseparable.

  He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, and her mouth—quite thoroughly. He explored her neck, her breasts, her belly, and her lovely, soft thighs. He—

  She pressed her legs together before he reached his goal.

  “What are you doing?” She sounded quite alarmed.

  He looked up at her. “Kissing you. Isn’t that obvious?”

  She struggled onto her elbows. “I-I am certain what you are doing is inappropriate.”

  “Indeed?” He brushed his lips over the reddish curls at his end of her lovely body. “In which book of manners did you find a list of appropriate forms of marital kissing? I’ve not seen that tome.”

  She flushed—all of her flushed. It was a truly delightful display. “I have not read it in a book, of course.”

  “No? So which patroness of Almack’s made this pronouncement?”

  “Don’t be absurd. The patronesses don’t discuss such things.”

  “They’ve ruled on the appropriateness of dances. And, now that I think on it, they have approved the waltz, so I believe they would definitely find this form of kissing unexceptional.”

  “David, you are being absurd.”

  “Not at all.” He stroked her thighs; she sucked in her breath and opened them for him. “But I’m not certain they would approve of this type of kissing. You must ask them when next we are in Town.”

  “What are you—eek!”

  She closed her knees again in shock as he flicked his tongue over the hard little nub hidden in her curls. How delightful—she’d trapped him exactly where he wished to be. He licked her again.

  “Oh! Oh!” Her hands gripped his head, her fingers weaving through his hair. “D-David.”

  “I think that was more of a wail than a groan.”

  “What?”

  “I must make you groan, remember?”

  “What are you—oh!”

  He smiled as his tongue slid over and around her. He breathed in her musky scent, tasting her deeply. Her hips bucked and shifted. She made lovely little sounds—definitely squeaks and gasps and moans…but did she groan?

  No matter. He was about to groan. He was so hard, and she was so wet and ready. It was time, but first…

  He felt the tension in her body build, heard her breath catch…and then he touched his tongue delicately once more to her hard little pleasure point. She made an odd sound—a soft scream—and sat up. Then she groaned—definitely a groan—and fell back onto the mattress.

  He followed her, slipping into her body, thrusting through her barrier as quickly, as gently as he could, and holding, surrounded by her wet heat. He had never felt anything so wonderful in his life.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “Yes.” She sounded very annoyed.

  “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “It had better not.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. He wanted to give her time to adjust, but his body was clamoring for release.

  “The first part was lovely, though.” Her hands slid down his sweat-slicked back to his buttocks.

  Her touch was exquisite. And her body under his…heaven. So soft and hot and wet. He couldn’t wait another instant. He moved as cautiously as he was able.

  “Is…is that all right?”

  “Mmm.” She gripped his arse harder, pulled him toward her, and wiggled her hips.

  “Ah.” It was too much. He thrust again.

  Gentle. Careful. Not too hard.

  He was fighting a losing battle. At least he was going to be fast—not usually a good thing, but with this being Grace’s first time, probably a blessing.

  Blessing or curse, it was the way it was going to be.

  He managed to hold onto a thin thread of control until the final glide through her tight heat. He stopped deep inside her, suspended in anticipation, and then his seed leapt into her welcoming body.

  He collapsed as carefully as he could onto her. He felt her arms go round him, hugging him close.

  Grace closed her eyes. It had all been so overwhelming. She ran her hands up his back and breathed as deeply as she could. Her legs cradled his hips. She was surrounded by his heat and scent. It was wonderful.

  She felt very, very married.

  “I’m too heavy for you,” he murmured by her ear. He moved off and out of her.

  She shivered. Without his body covering hers, she was chilled—but not for long. David pulled the covers up and gathered her close. She nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder.

  The place between her legs was sore and wet—and empty now. Had she really f
elt…what she’d felt?

  “Are you all right, Grace?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She smoothed her fingers over the hair on his stomach. Words were beyond her abilities at the moment.

  David ran his hand up and down her side. “Where were you going to take the stagecoach if I hadn’t found you?”

  “London.” She licked his skin. Mmm. Salty. “To Aunt Kate.” She pressed herself closer. She would like to do what they’d just done again.

  “I doubt she’s there. I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but when you were packing and leaving with your father, my uncle and your aunt were…having a frank and thorough discussion.”

  “Oh?”

  “Like the frank and thorough discussion we just had.”

  “Oh.” Aunt Kate had done…this? Surely she was too old.

  “Alex left Motton’s estate shortly before I did to procure a special license. He and your aunt are probably married and on their honeymoon now.”

  “Aunt Kate didn’t wait for me?” She should feel offended—would feel offended when she could feel anything beyond this overwhelming languor.

  “Well, they were in a bit of a hurry. Your aunt is carrying Alex’s child.”

  That news broke through her lassitude. She sat up.

  “What?!”

  “Your aunt is going to be a mother.” He cupped her breast, stroked it. “And my uncle is going to be a father.”

  “Oh.” David’s touch felt so good; it was completely distracting. She should think about her aunt, but later. Now desire curled low in her stomach; the sore spot between her legs started to throb. Could they do what they’d just done again?

  Another thought managed to drift through her heated consciousness.

  “If I hadn’t run away, I’d probably be at church now.”

  David leaned forward and licked her nipple. “I’m glad you’re not.”

  “So am I.” She arched her back, trying to encourage him to keep doing what he was doing. For the first time since she’d reached womanhood she wasn’t embarrassed by her breasts. She was almost proud of them. She frowned. “I do hope Papa spoke to John.”

  David pulled her onto his chest. “Stop worrying. Parker-Roth’s a grown man. He should have realized he didn’t have your love.” He cradled her head and kissed her very thoroughly. “Frankly, your passion would have been wasted on him.”

  “And it’s not wasted on you?”

  “Of course not. I made you groan, didn’t I?”

  She grinned down at him, mischief in her eyes again. “I’m not so certain you did.”

  David’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? I had you writhing and moaning.”

  “Ah, but was I groaning? Moaning, yes, I’ll grant you moaning. But groaning…I’m not so certain.”

  David shrugged, causing his skin to slide in a very delightful way across her nipples. They peaked at once—and the bold man noticed. His hand came up to play with one hard nub.

  “I see you are a difficult woman, Lady Dawson. And I, being the gentleman I am, do not wish to dispute a lady—especially my lady wife. I will concede to you this time.” His thumb pressed on her nipple, and she drew in a sharp breath. “What is my penalty?”

  “That was an easy question to answer. She knew exactly what she wanted. “You must do what you just did—everything you just did.”

  “Everything?” He pressed her nipple again, and she felt his touch all the way to her womb. “You mean from the time your lovely back first hit this not-so-lovely mattress?”

  “Yes.” Grace smiled in anticipation. She wiggled slightly and felt a specific part of him grow. “Everything.”

  David grinned. “My pleasure, Lady Dawson.” He flipped her onto her back and kissed her, his free hand sliding over her body to the place that most ached for his touch. “My very, very great pleasure.”

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

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  Copyright © 2009 by Sally MacKenzie

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  ISBN: 1-4201-1104-3