Tempting A Marquess (A Steamy Regency Romance Book 4)

by Brown, Georgette

  He stepped back to admire how the water glistened upon her skin. “Now, let us proceed to the main repast.”

  * * * * *

  Mildred held her breath. She trembled, but not merely from the dampness of her garments. His caresses had roused every nerve in her body. She would not have thought she could yearn for Alastair’s touch as much as she did. She wanted him to kiss her again.

  He did.

  How delicious his lips felt against hers! Nothing tasted finer. They pressed against her with such sweetness but with enough ardor to make her desire swell. He parted her lips with his, and his tongue grazed the insides of her mouth, making her shiver.

  She kissed him back, seeking more pressure from his lips. He obliged, taking mouthfuls of her and making her head swim with a euphoria she had never known. His hand went to the back of her head to hold her still as he consumed her. Her body burning, she arched toward him. Her belly grazed what was a definite bulge at his crotch. A victorious thrill shot through her, and she pressed herself harder against that thickness.

  His fingers went through her hair, tugging slightly. She would have welcomed any manner of touch, no matter how harsh from him. A craving had engulfed her now. A craving that only he could satisfy. To signal this, she continued to kiss him despite the awkwardness of her inexperience. He tightened his hold of her hair till she gasped. He wanted her to stop. She wondered if it was because she did not kiss well.

  He pulled her head back and seared his mouth to her exposed neck. She nearly wept at the waves of desire rolling through her body. There were no words to describe how marvelous his lips felt against her neck. The grazing of his tongue tickled and thrilled. He suckled her neck, causing the tension between her legs to double—nay, triple.

  Take me. Please take me.

  At that moment, she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything else. Her body bowed off the post, pulling at the binding. It was madness how much she needed him, madness how the heat engulfing her could elicit such divine agitation, a pleasure that drove her to distraction. He clasped a buttock, and another wave of heat bowled through her. She rubbed herself harder against him, the pressure inside her body needing to meet with an equal pressure outside.

  With a groan, he shoved his hips at her. She had not thought it possible for the bulge between his legs to harden further. With a vigor that surprised her, she ground herself wantonly against him. A small part of her mind cautioned what he must think of her behavior, but she paid it no heed. At present, she wanted only to relieve the fire consuming her and feared that at any moment, Alastair might come to his senses and withdraw.

  Instead, he pushed back against her as he continued to mouth her neck, her jaw, her mouth. Her hips, however, he tilted toward his pelvis. Desire swam through her. There could not be a more divine place than where she was, trapped between the wooden post and his equally hard body. She wanted to speak his name or a word to indicate she was ready and willing.

  He groped a breast, kneading the flesh with his fingers. She winced and gasped as her sensitive nipples grazed against him. But she had never felt more alive. She needed and wanted to merge her body to this man who could inflict such acute sensations and coax such delicious wonders. The combination enthralled her to a height she had never before known.

  At long last, his hand was between her legs, stoking where the flame burned hottest. She would have preferred his bare fingers but was too aroused to mind her shift scraping against her. The friction from the garment produced a different but still pleasing sensation. With each and every stroke, the fire grew. The rapturous agitation reverberated through her body, and she doubted that she could contain its explosion. She had no wish to contain it. If the euphoria building within her did not find release, she would go mad.

  She pressed herself into his hand. He quickened his motions.

  And then it happened. What she had sought, what she had craved for the longest time. What she might never experience ever again.

  The pressure inside her exploded, shooting shudders through her entire frame. She bucked against him, against the post. Her body exalted in the rapture, but could it survive its victory? Should it stretch or curl into itself? Should she tense or relax? As she waffled between the various responses, the euphoria continued to ripple through her and ricochet between her thighs till she thought she could endure no more. She sobbed as her body quivered and quivered and quivered.

  Chapter Fourteen

  WATCHING HER SPEND and hearing her cries had caused his ardor to swell. Alastair knew when she had spent, the moment she had reached the apex of euphoria, but he had continued to strum his fingers between her thighs that she might never forget the depth of sensations her body was capable of.

  She gave another cry and her body jerked against the bedpost. The blood pounded everywhere in his body, and especially at his groin. Damn. His body wanted very much to take her. She looked and sounded far too becoming. The scent of her arousal wafted through his nostrils, and the primal urges soared within him. He doubted she would protest. He had seen the plea in her eyes earlier. She had wanted him to ravish her.

  Millie. Millie. Millie.

  But the woman whose body trembled against his, her breasts spilling from her stays, her quim sopping wet, was not the cousin he had known. This woman who had ground herself at his cock with a desperation no whore could replicate was a surprise, was intoxicating, was provocative.

  She let out a haggard moan and, reluctantly, he withdrew his hand. He took a step away from her, putting space between their bodies and hoping that, in doing so, he could calm the heat raging inside him.

  Her body slumped against the post as she found her breath.

  His hand itched to rub himself. She was an amazing sight upon the bed. He cleared his throat. “You are quite lovely when you spend, Millie. ”

  She looked up at him, her eyes shining uncommonly bright. His praise had pleased her.

  “What may I do for you, Alastair?”

  He growled, for he did not like the sound of his name. It reminded him of their relation and of his responsibility. Katherine had asked him to care for someone. Circumstances made Millie his selection, and though he had had honorable intentions at the beginning, what had he ended up doing instead? Disrobed and fondled her. He truly was an unredeemable cad.

  “How do you, er, take your satisfaction?” she inquired.

  “You need not worry yourself of that.”

  “But…” She lowered her gaze to his crotch.

  He adjusted himself in front of her so that his erection was less apparent.

  “It seems only fair,” she added.

  Her words were like the call of sirens, but he grumbled, “I can take care of myself.”

  “I should be happy to perform a similar service, as you had provided me with…with completion.”

  “You have not earned such a privilege,” he replied, needing to put an end to their dialogue.

  “Do you not wish to spend?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “We are done with this discussion.”

  He stepped to her to undo the bonds from her wrists.

  She looked up at him. “Would you like for me to suck your cock?”

  He froze. What the hell had she said?

  “I am told that all men enjoy it greatly.”

  He stared down at her, hardly able to believe his ears. Had she truly said the word “cock?” If so, his wanton little cousin was far bawdier than he could ever have imagined.

  He put his hands to his hips. “Did that stableboy tell you this? I will have his name,” he demanded, thinking that he would have to beat the pup to a bloody pulp.

  “What does it matter?” she returned. “It is true, is it not?”

  “Did he force you to take his member?”

  “By ‘member,’ you mean to say ‘cock?’”

  A vein in his neck throbbed. “Such a vulgar word should not pass the lips of a refined young lady.”

  She had the audac
ity to roll her eyes. “Have you not determined that I am far from a proper miss?”

  “Did the bastard force you?”

  “I wanted his cock! I was curious. And it pleased me to pleasure him in this fashion.”

  “Undoubtedly, he suggested it. Who is he?”

  “No one of consequence. But, as I have had some practice in it, I think you will find pleasure in my performance.”

  Hell and damnation. He was being propositioned by his cousin—once more.

  “I have defiled you enough,” he answered, and reached again for his cravat.

  “Or you can take me. Here. Now. I beg of you. Make use of my body. Lest I am not to your liking.”

  He suppressed an oath. “Millie, that is not the issue.”

  “But it must be. You have not disavowed it. Your arousal is quite plain, but you must not desire my body enough.”

  “Millie! Do you forget we are cousins?”

  “Not blood cousins. And no one need know. Please let me satisfy you. It would gratify me to do so.”

  He groaned as his erection stretched at her words and he hoped he could answer without wavering. “I can address my own needs to satisfaction.”

  “I know I must not please as well as Miss Hollingsworth, but you could close your eyes and imagine you are with her, and not your inferior cousin.”

  The blood was pounding in his head, clouding all thought.

  "I'll not mind. You could—"

  He succumbed. He crushed his lips to hers. To silence her. To ease the all-consuming pressure at his crotch. To prove that she was not as undesirable as she thought. To surrender.

  And once he gave himself permission to proceed, he knew there was no turning back.

  The more he tasted her, the finer she became. Over and over, his mouth ravaged hers. He kissed for his pleasure now, and it seemed would have done so even had she not invited him. Fisting his hand in her hair, he tilted her head in various directions, that he could sample all angles of her mouth. How delectably warm and moist she was. That she had no skill in the art of kissing mattered not. Her efforts amused him, and he favored them over no effort at all.

  The air between them grew as hot as that in the hearth. Her breasts pressed into him. Her hips. The little wanton had ground herself hungrily at him, and he had nearly succumbed the first time she had displayed the depths of her prurience. How could a woman who hitherto had shown such reserve, relinquish all inhibition?

  He flattered himself that he was the inspiration, though Millie had never shown any partiality toward him. It was what made him part with the sort of respect that he rarely spared his fellow men. She was not one of the many simpering maids who melted at his touch or tried to earn his affection through coquetry or flattery. Neither was she as beautiful, as witty, or as charming. But she was, for the most part, a sensible young woman, without artifice and possessed of a daring spirit. He had not anticipated this last quality, and the mystery of it intrigued him.

  His desire yearned to burst free of its confines. He fought the urgency and shoved his hips at her, giving her time and a sense of what she asked for. If she had a change of heart, despite the difficulty of fighting a tide turned, he would withdraw. But only upon her word.

  Had she truly surrendered her maidenhead to the damned stablehand? He did not think Millie would lie to him, but what if she had overstated what had happened?

  “If you wish to reconsider,” he muttered between kisses.

  “Damn it, Alastair,” she huffed. “Hang your qualms.”

  Bloody hell. He reached beneath her shift and went straight for the treasure trove. His fingers thrummed her clitoris, then pried between the folds. She gasped as they intruded into her sanctity.

  Damn. She was tight. Tight as a virgin. And wet. Steaming wet. Nothing could be more enticing. With surprising gentleness and patience, he pushed his fingers farther inside. She squirmed beneath him and purred. She had better not be a virgin.

  But even if she was, he doubted that he could retreat. His arousal raged too strongly now.

  His fingers grazed that most favored ally—that wrinkled pearl, still swollen, protruding from between her folds—before curling inside her quim.

  “Heavens,” she breathed.

  He fondled her till he had her panting and desperate. His own arousal was reaching its peak, fueled by the wet heat embracing his fingers. He had to sample this lusciousness with another part of his body.

  “Alastair…” she moaned.

  This time he favored the sound of his name upon her lips.

  He released her hair and unbuttoned his fall. His erection sprang forward, hard and at the ready. He looked to her to see if he could detect fear or hesitation but saw none. Instead, she licked her bottom lip!

  Holy…

  “Pray, make me wait no longer,” she said.

  Her words ignited him. He threw up her shift and, holding her by the backs of her thighs, he pressed the crown of his shaft to her nether lips. It took all his forbearance not to sink himself into her.

  “Yes! Yes!” she gasped.

  He felt her flex herself about his tip. No further encouragement was required. He sheathed himself into her, her wetness providing easy passage.

  She cried out and stiffened. And for a moment, he worried that perhaps she was a virgin. But his worries were muted by the glory surrounding his cock, pulsing into his loins. She was marvelous. Pure delight.

  He lowered his head to capture her lips and trail soft kisses from ear to temple. After she had relaxed, she writhed as if seeking motion. Slowly, he began to thrust.

  “Ohhh…”

  Her lashes fluttered. Her back arched. He settled himself a little deeper. Damn. Her womanhood felt as impressive as any he had sampled before. It was all he could do not to ram himself full and deep into her. With sighs and grunts, she writhed between him and the post, the movement of her body driving him wild. He shoved his hips at her to pin her in place so that he could slide more of him inside her. He curled the fingers of one hand into hers while he held onto the bedpost with the other. He ground himself into her with long strokes that left her breath haggard and her body trembling. When she began to grunt in earnest, he quickened his pace.

  "Yes! Oh, yes!" she cried.

  In her position, there was little she could do to match his thrusting, but he was more than content to do all the work. The bed rattled with the force of his motions.

  He saw her eyes rol toward the back of her head, her brow furrowed and her jaw slackened by passion. He intensified his pounding, shoving his full length up into her. His cods boiled, but he held the fire in check. She filled the room with her cries and incoherent words, and then her wail split the air as her body convulsed and bucked, submitting to that carnal euphoria. He speared himself into her wet heat, seeking the same. She trembled violently against him, but he required a few more thrusts before he, too, reached his apex.

  He pulled out of her as quickly as he could before his seed shot forth. His cods pumped the fire through him, draining his desire onto the floor below. He shivered when a second wave of seed poured forth. He clutched himself to ease the last drop, then shook his head to release the tension that had clamped the whole of his body.

  When the storm had finally passed, his breathing had returned to normalcy, he looked down to find her gazing up at him, her cheeks flushed, her lips still parted.

  Dear God. What had he done?

  Chapter Fifteen

  IT WAS NOT what Mildred wanted to see.

  Moments before, she had savored his growl, his shivers as he found his own release. Her own had thrilled, astounded, delighted her to no end. She had never before felt such divine intensity, had wondered if her body might implode or explode. Every second had been a wonder. His strength as he had bucked her against the post; his stamina in pumping his hardness up into her, maintaining an angle that drew the most beautiful heat through her loins; his expression when he gazed down upon her. She had not felt her plain self. Ev
en if he took her merely because he had no other option available to him—undoubtedly he had only the most utilitarian use for her body—the joining of their bodies excited her. She had relished it all.

  But not the guilt she saw in his eyes. The regret. It would ruin the beauty of what had transpired betwixt them. She could not let it happen.

  “Thank you, Alastair, thank you,” she said. “I hope it was as pleasurable for you as it was for me.”

  “There would not be the evidence of it upon the floor if it were not the case,” he said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. He looked her in the eyes as he untied her wrists. “Was it pleasurable for you?”

  “Exceedingly.”

  “Truly? I think I was overly harsh in my motions. Sometimes it is hard to contain the force of the carnal.”

  “I welcome it.”

  He grimaced and pulled away to replace his fall. “I ought not have—”

  “That would not be in accordance with the purpose of Château Follet. I pray you suffer no regrets,” she added as she rubbed her wrists, a little sore from being bound. “I will lose all respect for you if you do.”

  “What of you? Will you regret?”

  “Not at all.”

  “You will think differently tomorrow.”

  “Why ask me if you are so certain that you know the answer to your own question?”

  He stared at her, then a smile appeared. He looked down at her stays. “Allow me.”

  She stepped back. “Are we done already?”

  He was visibly taken aback by her question but answered, “Yes, we are done.”

  She glanced down at her breasts, recalling how he had looked upon them with desire. “But I had hoped to take your member.”

  “Millie…did you think we were engaged in something other than congress?”

  “Into my mouth.”

  His eyes steeled, and he pressed his lips into a firm line. “I will not degrade you further.”