Night of Pleasure

by Delilah Marvelle

  He tugged, hitting the back of the chair. “Something tells me I’ll be in this chair a few hours.”

  She walked toward the paints. “If you thought I was sore after our first night together,” she chided, “wait until I’m done with you. Ha.”

  He sat up against the ropes, trying to move. “Wait now. Where are you going? I’m over here.”

  She picked up the wooden pallet and paint brush and walked back toward him. “I’ve always wanted to have a real canvas to work with. Sit still.”

  “This masterpiece doesn’t require any more paint.”

  “I disagree.” She sat on his lap and daintily dipped the paintbrush into a random color. She painted a blue bird on the left side of his chest. Then a yellow star. Then a red music note. Followed by an orange bonnet.

  He glanced down at his bare chest as she continued to paint. “Couldn’t you paint something a bit more manlier on me? In case it becomes…well…I don’t know…permanent?”

  “Oh, now, cease whining.” She tilted her head and dipping her paintbrush in green, she drew a large dagger on his stomach. “How is that?”

  He groaned and threw back his head. “It’s pointing toward my cock.”

  She smirked. “I know. It’s brilliant.” She pertly got up and bustled the wooden pallet and brush back over to the table, depositing both onto it. She kicked off her slippers and slowly sashayed her way back toward him. “Now that I’ve properly marked you…”

  He leveled his head and captured her gaze. “You’re going too damn slow.”

  “Oh hush.” She paused before him and let out a breath, trying not to embarrass herself. Everything they did was always such a blur. She dragged her hands up his thighs like he did to her their first night together. “How is that?”

  His jaw tightened. “The legs are nice but go for whatever is under the flap.”

  She was officially nervous. She veered her hands inward, noticing that his erection was already sizably protruding against the wool of his trousers. With fingers that now trembled, she unbuttoned his flap. “I really don’t know what I’m doing. Should I…sit on it?”

  He tilted back against the chair, widening his legs and rasped, “Put your mouth on it first.”

  She paused. “Don’t be ridiculous. How do you expect me to fit all of it into my mouth?”

  He jerked his arms, but they remained tied behind him against the chair. “I’m not asking you to swallow the whole thing. Just…suck on it.” He tried to move but couldn’t. “Jesus. My arms are losing sensation.”

  She pulled out his rigid length and smoothed her hands over it. “You’re just saying that.”

  His lips parted and his chest fell and rose more unevenly. “God. That…don’t make me…it has to end with me inside you. Or those children won’t be in our arms anytime soon.”

  She hesitated and then quickly lowered her mouth onto him, taking his erection into her mouth. Not knowing what she was supposed to do, she sucked on it. Hard. With her teeth.

  He startled against her, jarring the chair against the floor. “Jesus! What are you doing?!”

  She unlatched herself and glanced up at him, trying not to panic. “Did I do it wrong?”

  His chest heaved, his face flushed. “No teeth. All right? No. Teeth.”

  It was obvious she’d hurt him. She winced. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how you want me to do it. I can’t readily remove the teeth from my mouth, you know.”

  A gargled laugh escaped him. “Can you untie me? Because this isn’t going to work. I’ll end up dead. We’ll do this again when you’re…more experienced.”

  Her cheeks got hot. “I’m sorry. I’m a terrible lover, aren’t I?”

  He captured her gaze, his features growing serious. “No. Don’t say that. And don’t you dare apologize.” He dragged in a breath and let it out. “Use your lips to cover your teeth. That will help.”

  An exasperated breath escaped her. “Maybe I should just untie you.”

  “No. I’m…” He cleared his throat. “Teeth aside, I’m enjoying this. Really.”

  She hesitated. “Are you certain?”

  “Quite. Try again.”

  Now she felt like she was in school. She awkwardly and carefully took hold of his erection again. Lowering her head, she molded her lips against it and pushed her mouth down onto it, pulling up and pushing down, ensuring her teeth weren’t touching his length.

  A groan escaped him. “Beautiful.”

  She adjusted her grip on him and continued moving her mouth against him, enjoying the feel of him. Hard and smooth. It was so…erotic. Everything about him was. She could feel herself getting wet. And he wasn’t even in her. She moved her mouth more and more.

  He pushed his hips against her, moaning. “Damn.”

  Something told her she was doing it right. She moved faster.

  He gasped. “Slow down just a bit…I…” He gasped again.

  She knew what that meant. Releasing him, she hitched up her skirts and climbed onto him, slipping her legs around him. She reached between them and ensuring his erection was up, slid down onto it, letting out a breath. Grabbing his muscled shoulders, she slowly rode him.

  Derek’s eyes half-closed in between ragged breaths.

  She leaned down and bringing her hands into his hair, kissed his forehead and rode him steady but harder, feeling her core tightening with each downward thrust. Her heart skipped realizing she was giving into more than just pleasure. She was giving herself over to making a baby. Their baby. She tightened her hold on him and pushed them both faster, losing herself to the moment. Her breaths, her heartbeat, his parted lips, and his heaving chest all blurred together.

  Without realizing she had already physically lost herself, she cried out and trembled against the rippling sensation that erased her ability to control herself.

  He bucked against her, jerking the chair beneath them. He yelled and stilled.

  Knowing his seed was within her womb, she cradled herself against him, keeping his length within her. She closed her eyes and dreamily set her head against his. “How long before we know?”

  A breath escaped him. “If you don’t get your menses, we’ll know.”

  Still keeping her eyes closed, she whispered, “I’ll be more than my mother was.”

  “I know you will be,” he whispered back. “You’ll be amazing. Absolutely amazing.”

  She held him tighter.

  After a long moment, he murmured, “I can’t feel my arms. Would you untie me?”

  Her eyes popped open. She paused, realizing she had smeared the paint all over her hands and gown in colors that resembled a rainbow. It was a sign. “I can’t. I’m not allowed to move.”

  “What do you mean you’re not allowed to move?”

  She nuzzled him. “I’m not. We have to stay like this for a half hour.”

  “Uh…my arms might very well fall off by then.”

  “Derek?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m seeing rainbows. Will you marry me?” she drawled. “Because I think I like you.”

  He groaned. “You aren’t being funny. Untie me. Now.”

  She kissed his cheek. “I’m merely trying to ensure this baby comes.”

  “How? By making me suffer?”

  She nudged him. “No. Your mother told me what helped her get pregnant was not moving for a good half hour after the act.”

  He paused. “I will disregard that my mother actually said that. But if there is any truth in what she is saying…I can wait a half hour. Don’t move.”

  “I thought so.”

  Nine months later, after midnight

  Essex, England – The Banfield country estate

  Derek swiped his face with a trembling hand, unable to listen to Clementine’s sobs and screams that continued to echo through the house. “I can’t bloody stand it,” he rasped, his chest tight and his breaths uneven. “I have to see her. I have to help her. They can’t keep me out here. I have to—”

>   A hand grabbed his shoulder hard. Andrew edged in. “You have the best doctors in Essex at her side.”

  Mr. Grey raked his hands through his hair and paced. “Her mother died giving birth.”

  Derek almost staggered. “Jesus, don’t—”

  Lady Banfield gasped and grabbed Mr. Grey’s arm. “What are you trying to do? Send my son and all of us into a panic?”

  Derek swallowed. He pointed at Andrew. “Have the footmen ready.” Removing his evening coat, he whipped it to the floor. “I don’t care what the doctor says.” He jogged out of the room and down the corridor toward Clementine’s bedchamber. Grabbing the doorknob, he turned it and yanked the door open. Going in, he closed the door.

  One of three doctors gathered the linen from around Clementine’s writhing body and assembled it over her large belly and bent knees like a tent.

  Clementine’s gaze darted over to him in between sobs. Her sweat-soaked black hair clung to the side of her flushed face. “Derek!” She held out a shaky hand. “The doctor says I’m close!”

  Derek hurried over to her side and climbed onto the bed beside her, taking her hand. He cradled her head against his chest. “You can do this, love. I know you can.”

  “Push, my lady,” the doctor insisted, bending in between the covered portion of her lower body. “Push. I can…I can feel the child’s head. We might not need the forceps.”

  Clementine stiffened and letting out a shriek, leaned forward.

  A tiny cry made Derek tighten his hold on Clementine in disbelief. His throat tightened.

  The doctor lifted the small body and set the babe onto the waiting linen set on the bed. “It’s a boy,” the doctor announced, glancing up at them. “I won’t cut the cord until I have your permission.”

  Derek stared at the tiny crying babe who was being bundled. He couldn’t believe it. He was a father.

  A sob escaped Clementine as she popped out both arms. “Let me hold him. Let me…hold him.”

  The doctor rounded the bed and carefully handed the baby over and into Clementine’s extended arms, while one of the other doctors covered her legs with the linens.

  Clementine gathered their child and tucked him against the crook of her arm, leaning back against the pillows gathered behind her. She tilted their son toward Derek, so he could better see. A breath escaped her as she touched a finger to that small glossy cheek and chin. “Love at first sight is real,” she whispered. “It really is. Look at him, Derek. He is ours. All ours.”

  Derek swallowed and edged closer toward their son whose lips quivered as he cried. His tiny head shifted against the linen he was bundled in. Derek brought up a hand and delicately grazed that dark tuft of soft hair. A tiny hand flailed out toward him and hit his hand. A startled laugh escaped him. “A boxer. What do you know.”

  Clementine glanced up at Derek and tsked. “Don’t be throwing him into boxing matches quite yet.”

  He kissed her forehead then her lips, before returning his attention back to their son. He touched that small hand. “Can we name him George? After my father? And Rupert, after yours?”

  She nodded. “Yes. ’Tis rather fitting that the men who brought us together be honored. George Rupert Holbrook.” She smiled and dabbing a finger to that tiny nose said, “Welcome to the world, George. I promise your life is going to be amazing.”

  Derek nuzzled his nose against Clementine’s cheek and whispered, “I have a surprise for you. Do you want to see it now or when you wake up in the morning after you rest?”

  She glanced up at him, her eyes brightening. “I want to see it now. What is it? You always have the most incredible surprises. What did I get? Jewelry?”

  He laughed and kissed her cheek. “No. Something far better. I’ll wait for you and the babe to get cleaned up.” He gestured toward her lady’s maid who lingered with a basin, soap, towels and fresh nightclothes.

  The doctor asked, “Do I have permission to cut the umbilical cord, my lord?”

  Derek glanced at Clementine. “Are you ready?”

  She nodded.

  The doctor snipped it with shears and quickly knotted a small piece of cloth around the babe’s remaining cord.

  “I’ll let you wash up, dear,” Derek said, angling toward her. “Are you up for seeing everyone after you get cleaned up?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  He kissed her cheek again and skimmed his hand over George’s small head, his throat tightening. It was surreal knowing this child was his. Pushing off the bed, he made his way over to the door and opened it. He glanced back at her, as her lady’s maid set the basin onto the bed and took their child.

  Sprinting down the corridor, Derek skidded into the room where his brother, Mr. Grey and his mother waited. “It’s a boy!” he yelled, throwing up both hands. “The most dashing boy you’ve ever seen. You have to see him. He looks like me!”

  Andrew burst into laughter. “Hopefully, he won’t grow up to be as conceited.”

  Mr. Grey strode up to Derek, grinning. “Am I allowed to see her? When can I see her?”

  Derek gestured toward the corridor. “She and George Rupert are getting cleaned up. You can go wait outside the door until they are ready.”

  Mr. Grey’s lips parted. “You named the child after George and me?”

  Derek patted the man on the back. “Two great men deserve to be acknowledged for their fabulous matchmaking skills.”

  Mr. Grey grinned, shaking his head and darted out of the room.

  Lady Banfield bustled toward Derek, grabbed his face, and kissed him on the cheek twice. “May this boy give you the same adventures you gave me.” She smirked. “I will leave it at that.” She hurried out of the room.

  Same adventures. Christ, he was going to grey early. Derek pointed at Andrew. “Are the footmen ready? Do they have every one?”

  Andrew nodded. “Every one. They are all waiting. You want me to start this?

  “In about a half hour. After she has time to get washed up with new nightclothes. Tell them to enter her room one by one. Like we planned.”

  Andrew walked by and punched his arm playfully. “I suppose I have to take you seriously now. What with you being a father and all.”

  Derek pointed at him. “Don’t you forget it.”

  Andrew eyed him. “I’m an uncle now. Which means that boy will be in need of advice.”

  Derek shoved him, sending Andrew stumbling. “Whatever you do, don’t give him female advice. Leave that to me.”

  Andrew shoved him back with a laugh. “By the time he is old enough to take advice on females, I’ll be married with six children.”

  “You have to find a woman first, Andrew,” Derek drawled.

  His brother smirked. “I’m all about respectable women now. Have you seen Lord Hawksford’s sister, Lady Victoria? Damn.”

  Derek pulled in his chin. “Hawksford’s sister isn’t even eighteen.”

  “She will be next year. I’m waiting for her coming out.”

  “Can you stop scaring me and get the footmen in order?”

  “Consider it done.” Andrew disappeared.

  Derek paused and seeing the life-size portrait of his father on the wall, walked up to it and touched the bottom of the gilded frame. His eyes fell on that bright jolly face that grinned. “Wish you were here,” he whispered, half-nodding.

  Sniffing hard, he swung away and knowing Clementine and his son were waiting, he strode away. Halfway down the corridor, he broke into a run and skidded through the open doorway and back into Clementine’s room.

  Mr. Grey was seated on one side of the bed and Lady Banfield on the other, both of them leaning in and talking in high-pitched adoring voices to the baby who was already dressed in a cap and garment.

  Derek set himself against the nearest wall, quietly watching Clementine adjust their child in her arms as she talked to her father and his mother. Her hair was scattered around her shoulders and she, despite hours of pain, looked like a woman who had never known pain. S
he paused in between her soft chatter and captured his gaze from across the room.

  She smiled. “Aren’t you going to come over here, handsome?”

  He shook his head. “Not until my gift arrives.”

  Andrew stumbled into the room out of breath. “I gathered every last one of them. They are all waiting outside. All thirty-two of them.”

  Derek grinned. “Tell them to come in.” He pointed at Clementine. “This is for you, love. Don’t think I ever forgot.”

  Clementine’s eyes veered toward the open doorway.

  One by one, footmen in their livery entered, each carrying a painting that had been scattered around the world since Clementine was a child. It had taken Derek a touch over six months to gather them after he had Mr. Grey disclose every location of every home her paintings had been left in.

  Clementine’s eyes widened. “My paintings!” A choked sob escaped her.

  Derek let the paintings continue to walk in until there was barely any standing room and they were all surrounded by every painting Clementine ever created as a child.

  Weaving through the footmen, he came up to the side of the bed, leaned across his mother toward Clementine and said, “I brought them home. Where they belong.”

  Gently handing off George to her father, she grabbed Derek by his linen shirt and tugged him closer. Until they were nose to nose. “You are the best thing to have ever happened to me. Do you know that?”

  Derek grinned. “I knew that well before you did.”

  “Are you bragging?”

  “I’m trying not to.”

  “I love you, Derek.”

  Feeling as though he might burst from the perfection of his own life, he kissed her.

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