Miss Darling's Indecent Offer

by Cerise DeLand

  But where would that leave him and his raging emotions for her three months hence? He might be a bag of bones by then, loving her as often as he knew himself capable. But he could not leave her now. Not after this one love-making. Not when he needed to indulge himself in her entrancing body once more. His own dilemma of how to live without her was a problem for the future. He would live for now. For her. And yes, dammit, for their mutual satisfaction.

  * * * *

  She awoke and he slept beside her, his huge body lax in repose. She wished to touch him, caress him, make certain he was real and hers. But when she moved, she felt the ache between her thighs and knew this afternoon with him had been no daydream, but a ravishing reality.

  She caught back a chuckle and with a fingertip, pushed the sheets farther down his body.

  His waist was slim compared to the contours of his chest and massive arms. His hips were trim.

  His nether hair as raven as the shining locks on his head. And his cock. Hmmm. That most intriguing part of him was a long, thick rod whose dimensions interested her, even slack as it was.

  Could she touch him?

  She snatched back her hand. No. She had held him in her hand in his sitting room and he had filled her palm. Warm and soft. Hard and red. Hers, now. Well, for a while anyway. Three months.

  She glanced away, sorrowful that she would one day lose him and this wondrous friendship they had begun. Lose his loving, too.

  She slid to the side of the bed and picked up a knitted throw upon a huge chair. Curling it around her shoulders, she stood and felt a gush of fluid coat her thighs. She sat right back down.

  The bed bounced.

  Jack’s hand went round her wrist. “Don’t go.”

  “I think…I must, Jack. Is there a chamber pot?”

  “A stooled chair in the bath chamber,” he told her, but held her back. “What’s amiss? You are not hurt?”

  “I think I must be bleeding,” she said on a high note of dismay. Her mother was so full of stories of pain and blood after her first night wed. With Jack, Emma had forgotten all of that in the flush of desire. “I’m all wet and…”

  He rose up at once on his knees and took her in his arms. “Let me see.”

  “No!”

  “You cannot be modest now, my pet!” He smiled with consolation. “Don’t fret. Let me tend you. You are my wife, remember? To love and obey?”

  Would that that were true beyond this chamber and this day.

  He scanned her features. “I would not have you think your health is lost here, not after the joy we’ve had this afternoon. If you are injured, I must know. Lie back and open your legs, darling.”

  “I am mortified,” she muttered as she felt his gaze and his breath upon the skin of her upper legs.

  “Don’t be, pretty wife. You are well. You only give off those juices you created and the seed I gave you when we loved each other. Look at me,” he commanded with a tender tone and caught her chin. “There is a pink tinge to your emissions, and that was the last of your maidenhead, darling. To be expected. But in fact, yours was an easy barrier to break.”

  “Oh, that’s not good, is it?”

  “For me, it was,” he proclaimed with twinkling eyes. “And for you, it was a blessing. Some virgins have a bit of a tough go, I am told. Not fun for man or woman, that.”

  “You’ve never had a virgin?”

  “Before you? No. Never.”

  “Why not?”

  He scrambled up beside her and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Because initiating virgins to the art of love is what a husband does. I have never been a husband before today and did not wish to be one.”

  “Why not?” She dearly wished to know the answer to this question. Suspecting it had to do with his father and their relationship, she would bide her time to get this information.

  He snorted. “Well, had you asked me last week or last month I would have responded that I had no reason to want to be one. No woman who needed me for more than a dalliance. No woman I wanted for more than that. And courtesy of my father, an upbringing which showed me that what passed for love between a man and woman was beguiling and temporary.”

  “I see.” She took that as its face value and wished for more. Perhaps not today, but tomorrow and soon.

  “Suppose I order the maids to prepare a bath, eh? Should have thought of that before, but I didn’t. Sorry, darling.”

  She knew that in this diversion he attempted to avoid discussing the subject further. “A bath would be welcome.”

  He kissed her and rolled away, then headed for his armoire where he took down a floor length black velvet robe and tied the sash about his waist. “Hungry? You should be after what we did. Heaven knows I am. I’ll have some supper sent up. Should have done that, too. But I am not thinking.”

  Hoisting herself up on her elbows, she smiled at him. “Neither am I.”

  “I am too taken with you to be rational.” From afar, he gazed at her naked body, then raked both hands through his hair. “Nothing for that now. What’s done is done. Cover up but do not dress. I like you naked. But the maids will be up with the hot water soon enough.”

  Desperate to keep him or at least have him back soon, she urged, “You will return soon?”

  He made for the hall door and called to her as he put his hand to the knob. “You may count the minutes.”

  Chapter Six

  Was he totally daft?

  What the hell was he doing making love to this innocent?

  Well, now not so innocent, old man. You should have asked yourself that question hours ago. But as it is, you have had one hell of a marvelous time initiating her to the joys of sex. And if once was not enough, then one night was not either. Could he walk away after three more months of nightly ecstasy with her?

  Cursing aloud, he took the stairs down to the first floor and padded on bare feet toward the back of the house and the butler’s pantry. There, he saw his servant Simmons seated, polishing glassware. What’s more, the man’s usually pinched face sported a happy countenance as he whistled a merry tune about a lad and his lass. Simmons never whistled. Never smiled. Never spoke of love. Or women.

  “Simmons?”

  Startled, the butler shot to his feet. “Milord! Is ought amiss?”

  “No, Simmons. We are well. I want two trays sent upstairs from that cold supper I ordered. Does Cook have roast beef and potatoes on the sideboard as I requested last night?”

  “She does, milord.”

  “Excellent. Put lots of it on one plate. And my lady needs hot water sent up to my bath chamber. In fact, have the footman haul in the tub from the bedroom across the hall and draw two baths in my suite while we’re at it.”

  “Yes, sir. At once.”

  Jack headed for his library, then turned back with a nagging question. “And Simmons?”

  “Yes, milord?”

  Jack frowned in playful challenge to this usually stoic man. “Have you taken to becoming a whistler since I’ve been in London these past four months?”

  The butler’s large eyes popped wider. “No, sir.”

  “Why today then?”

  “Well, sir, it is your wedding day, isn’t it. And we were celebrating along with you and your new wife.”

  “I see.” Jack scratched his head as he considered that answer. “Not a bad idea.”

  “No, sir.” Simmons grasped his hands together like a minister about to deliver his favorite Sunday sermon.

  Jack suppressed a grin and ventured, “Is my getting married such cause for celebration among the staff?”

  Simmons beamed. “Yes, sir.”

  “Oh? And the reason for that is what?”

  The once unflappable butler flexed his shoulders. “Ah. Well, my lord. Many of us never thought you would take a wife.”

  Jack feigned a grimace. “And now that I have?”

  “I won the bet.” The man looked like he’d won at the races.

  Jack put both hands on his hips and leane
d forward to examine the man who never seemed to have enough red blood in his veins to be passionate, let alone gamble. “Which was?”

  “That if you did bring a woman home to us, she would be a good girl, I said. The others thought differently, my lord.”

  Jack blinked. Dear God. His staff had opinions of him. Some of them dastardly, it seemed.

  “How much money did you win, Simmons?” How big was the fear I was unredeemable?

  “Forty pounds. Sterling, that is, my lord.”

  “Forty—?!” Was he blubbering like a fool? “Handsome.” Outrageous!

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Jack shoved his hands in the pockets of his robe and rocked on his heels. “And you can readily see the Viscountess is a good girl, as you put it?”

  “Oh, yes indeed, my lord.”

  So could I. From the moment I looked at her. Soaking wet. Pleading with me. Lovely and lonely.

  “She is quiet and graceful, my lord.”

  “That she is.”

  “And very pretty, too, sir. My compliments on securing her hand in marriage.”

  More than her hand. Her luscious giving body. Jack cleared his throat. “Yes, well. Totally her doing, Simmons. Wish I could lay claim to having begun the relationship.”

  “My lord?”

  Jack examined the man’s confusion at his revelation. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Simmons. Enjoy your winnings, man. What will you do with it, I wonder?”

  The butler blew his chest up like a prize boxer strutting the ropes. “I do have an ambition, my lord.”

  “Do you? How interesting that I would never have known. Well, this certainly is a day for new developments of all types. Out with it, Simmons. What is your ambition?”

  Simmons cleared his throat, once and then again. “I would like your permission to marry Cook.”

  Blow me over. Jack grinned. “Is that so? For how long have you wished this, Simmons?”

  “Five years, my lord.”

  For a man who had wed a woman he wanted within five days of meeting her, as many years to wait to possess the one a man wanted seemed extraordinary to Jack. “Then you must do so. Immediately.”

  The servant’s face split in a grin. “Thank you, my lord. I am delighted, my lord.”

  “Better put down your glassware, man, and go propose, don’t you think?”

  Shock fell over the butler’s features. “I have your permission?”

  “You do. We must get the vicar to give you a time. We’ll have the wedding here and the Viscountess and I shall be your witnesses.” Emma would like that tremendously. “Shall I go tell her?”

  “Yes, do, my lord. Two days from now?”

  “See if Cook agrees first, then yes, two days. We will have a party!”

  Simmons stared at him. “But my lord, we have never had a party here.”

  “High time, then, eh, man?” Jack encouraged. “Go propose, Simmons. Weddings and love should have priority.”

  Jack himself began to whistle the same ditty Simmons had done. As he found his own way toward his library, his correspondence and his accounting books, he wondered if they all didn’t need a good dose of whistling to sound out the new music in the house.

  * * * *

  Emma felt Jack’s lips brush hers as she lay in the warm bath.

  “Darling Emma,” he breathed against her cheek, “I must have you in this tub each day if you are to look like this.” His large hands cupped her chin as he devoured her mouth in a sultry claim.

  Her eyes drifted open as her arms wound around him. “You were gone so long that I missed you.” She pulled him close for another kiss. “I fear your bathwater is cold now. Where were you?” She knew she sounded demanding. What was happening to her that she was changing into this clinging creature yearning for her husband’s touch?

  “Letters to write. To your lawyers to tell them of our marriage and ask they keep it secret until I arrive in London to meet them. Other matters. Debts to collect. Trayne’s and Pinrose’s to me.”

  “They owe you money?”

  “And soon, they will owe more. Trust me on this.” He touched her lower lip with his thumb. “I came as quickly as I could.”

  She tugged at the front of his robe as he leaned over her. “Take this off. Get in. My water was wonderfully hot and you will love the soak after all our days in that hideous, bumpy carriage.”

  He shrugged out of the garment. “Satisfied?”

  She pressed kisses to the corded column of his throat down to his chest. “No, but I am having a tremendous amount of fun!”

  He yanked backward and splashed water in her face. “Tease.”

  He rose up on his feet before her and the astonishing perspective of his sculpted form made her gasp. “My dearest man,” she enthused as she cupped one hand around his knee and slid it up his massive thigh, “it is you who teases me. With this,” she whispered as her fingers closed around the girth of his cock and her lips placed a kiss to his groin.

  He jumped at the softness of her caress. “‘Tis not my intent, madam, to tease you with this.”

  “No?” She challenged as she stroked him, root to tip, and he grew wider and harder and longer in her hand. “I think you have invented a new temptation for me, my lord.”

  He hauled her up by the armpits, the bathwater cascading to the tub and floor. A hand catching up her sopping wet hair, he crushed her to him and kissed her like a madman. “Two can be tempted, madam.”

  “I don’t want to be tempted, Jack,” she told him on a sigh. “I want to be satisfied.”

  “As before?”

  “Definitely.”

  He glanced toward his bedroom. “I doubt I will make it to the bed.”

  “Why not here?” She could not resist the taunt.

  He growled and tugged her toward his own tub. Climbing in, he sank and led her to join him. “What if we fuck here, um? Would that please you?”

  “If you, milord, are fucking me,” she teased him with that gloriously audacious word, “yes.

  You think there is room?” she marveled, laughing.

  “You are so nimble, yes.” He pulled her toward him, and put his mouth to her belly to kiss her navel. “Get in here, my lovely. There. Now come closer and wrap your legs around my hips. ”

  Her eyes went wide as her thoughts and her gaze led to his cock and what she might do here with him in such a confined space.

  “You can wash me, wife.” He took her hand and dropped a small toweling into her palm.

  “Everywhere?”

  “Of course.” He leaned back, closed his eyes and put his arms to the rims. He opened one eye to observe her. “I am your husband and you may have all of me. As I have had all of you.”

  “And was I…?”

  “What?” he asked as she began to soap his chest.

  “Worth having?”

  He covered her hand with his. “Do not doubt it.”

  Her eyes grew moist. “For such a kind man to think that I am worthy of him is—”

  “Emma. Darling. I am a man of the town. Not accomplished at anything, really, except running this estate and a few investments. You compliment me too much to think that you must be worthy of me, when I strive to be worthy of you.”

  She glanced away, modesty and joy triumphant in her heart. “You do like me.”

  “Look at me. I like so many things about you. Shall I tell you, darling?”

  She nodded, appreciating the way he settled his legs beneath her, brushed his hands down her arms to draw her close, then stroked the crown of her wet head. “You have the most amiable constitution. Funny. Wise and honest, too. Then there are your looks, madam. The sunny hair, the alluring grey eyes and intoxicating skin. Your stunning oval face. The fullness of your lower lip and the rich bow in your upper. You like my descriptions? I can feel you smile against my skin.”

  He stroked her back and her buttocks, hugging her nearer. “I like your body too, my darling. A delicious meal.”

  “Oh, you a
re being romantic now!” she scoffed, fearful of succumbing too much to his spell.

  “And honest.” He traced her calves and thighs. “Shapely legs like carrots.” She snorted as he lifted an arm in the air. “Long limbs like celery stalks.” She laughed as he weighed a breast in his palm. “Firm apples here, topped by ripe strawberries.” She whimpered as he skimmed her ribs.

  “Strength of character here.” Her navel. “An orange.” Her nether hair. “Hmm. And what is this? A coconut?”

  She pinched his forearm and snickered.

  “And this,” he whispered as he slid two fingers up inside her channel and she squirmed to get closer, “this, my wife, is a succulent passion fruit.”

  “You are a sinful man,” she said as she laughed against his lips.

  “I hope for you I am a better man,” he told her as he shifted and she felt his cock probe at the entrance to her body.

  “The best man,” she affirmed and pushed forward. “The only man.”

  “Only yours,” he told her as he pistoned inside her, and she wished his statement could be true forever.

  She strained upward, grinding down to get him deeper inside her. He kissed her breast, pinched her nipple, then sucked it into his mouth, bit her and pulled.

  She gasped, arching up and needing more. “This is no good!” she ground out. “This tub is not big enough for your satisfaction and I daresay at this angle it will do nothing for mine!”

  He sputtered in glee. “Stand up then!” he ordered, and she rose in a whoosh of water.

  He did the same and stepped out, then grabbed her and backed her to the wall. “I’ll have you climax here,” he growled and hooked her leg up around his hip to plunge into her. She felt her swollen body part and give, allowing him inside her with slick ease.

  She cried out in languorous delight. She lolled her head against the wall, her eyes half-lidded with desire, one hand winding round his neck so that she could get her footing. “Please, oh please.”

  “Fuck you,” he muttered in his mindlessness.