Hold Your Breath 02 - Unmasking the Marquess

by K. J. Jackson

  His right hand, deep in her hair, wrapped the strands around his palm, tightening his grip and controlling the angle of her head. The scent of jasmine filled his senses, and his tongue searched out, parting the lips that had him drugged. When Reanna opened herself to him, Killian groaned and plunged deep within the contours of her mouth.

  His left hand moved downward, tightening around a buttock, and he pressed her body into his, feeling every flowing curve through the thin fabric of his pants and her flimsy silk nightgown. Her tongue tentatively touched his in return, and Killian reveled in the taste, not letting her withdraw from her commitment.

  A small purr, breathy, almost like a sigh, escape from deep within her throat. Killian pulled up at the sound, for he had never heard anything like it. Reanna just stood, most of her weight supported by him, her head tilted back and eyes closed, trust in every touch, every motion that Killian took, evident. Pure instinct.

  No reservations, she was letting her body do whatever her body naturally demanded. Innocent passion unleashed, and Killian was no force against it. Nor did he want to be.

  His lips went to her neck as he untied the six ribbons down her front that held the delicate silk together. He left no skin unattended as his mouth worked his way down with the ties.

  Her fingers dug deep into his hair as he pressed aside the flowing cloth to taste a breast. She gasped and involuntarily tried to step back, but Killian would not let her gain footing, holding the small of her back to his body as he licked and suckled the pink morsel. She didn’t resist his grip, and instead, arched into his mouth after the initial shock.

  One nipple taut with pleasure, he moved to the next, watching the shadows from the fire dance off her smooth skin. Her purring grew guttural. Not an ounce of her was standing by her own muscle, and Killian couldn’t wait any longer. He picked her up and strode over to the mammoth four-post bed, setting her in the middle of the silk coverlet.

  He stepped back, removing his own clothes, his eyes not leaving her. Sprawled on the bed, her silk rail draped half open on her body. Her skin glistened with unspent desire, the translucent cloth barely covering the ripe buds that he had teased into hardness. Her hair fell above her, a halo, and she watched him with hazy eyes, lips half parted as they silently begged to be ravaged once more.

  The devil. Killian shook himself. He was near to ripping off his own clothes like a besotted schoolboy for this little titan, this woman who was just a pawn in his revenge. The thought flashed through his mind, then he pushed it away, hid it, for at that moment he wanted nothing more than to ignore everything except for the salty pleasure that was her skin.

  Naked, he climbed onto the bed above her.

  “Killian…”

  Her half-opened eyes looked downward, and he saw her wonderment mix with hesitancy at his nakedness. He was already pulsating large, hard. Of course that would startle her. In the moment, he had forgotten of her innocence.

  “Just ignore it, Reanna, just close your eyes and feel what I do to you.”

  She glanced up into his eyes, and instantly the hesitancy was replaced with complete trust. Reanna nodded, her head arching against the bed as he descended to her lips. He continued his assault as his hands roamed her body and discarded the last of the silk covering her body.

  She writhed under him, naked, hot, wanting, and Killian wanted it just as much. More.

  His entire body swallowed hers, covering her, her softness filling his hard angles. His hand moved lower, and at first touch into her folds, she groan-purred, shock mingling with instant pleasure.

  She wasn’t at all a nervous virgin. No. She went where she was led without any reluctance, any misgivings, and she was even beginning to experiment on his body. Her fingers ran up and down the tight muscles in his back, even sloping down in exquisite motion to run across his backside and thighs.

  He was hard beyond control for her, but he wanted, needed, her to gain as much pleasure from this as he would. Killian manipulated her moans with his touch. He caressed her soft, then hard, back and forth he went, and he could tell she relished every moment of it. Her body, her purrs, begging for more. Her breath quickened, became frantic, and it wasn’t moments before her eyes flew open, bursting through the haze, and she looked at him in fear at what was happening to her body.

  “Just let it go, love.” He could barely contain himself from her writhing body. “God, just let it go.”

  Her eyes snapped shut, her head buckled back, and a scream escaped. Killian took the exact moment to enter her, he hoped with the least amount of pain, and sank his head into her neck, inhaling her heat. She arched under him as he plunged hard, her legs clasping his onslaught tighter to her own body.

  He thrust, deep and fast, as he lost his face in her thick hair, buried into her being, until without warning, without control, he came in a black lightning he didn’t know existed.

  { Chapter 3 }

  She lay, two hours later, draped over him, asleep, and God, he wanted her.

  He wanted her so much he was surprised the stiff hardness jabbing into her stomach hadn’t roused her from sleep. Hell. He was hoping she would wake up.

  She was the worst kind of vixen, the kind that didn’t have the slightest inkling about what she possessed, much less know how to use it.

  He shifted slightly on the bed. She didn’t move, so he decided it was the best time to make their way to the bath he had ordered to be tempered hourly for warmth.

  Moving her to his arms, he carried her across his suite to the adjoining bathing room. After a toe-test for water temperature, Killian slid the two of them into the copper tub, the warm water swirling around them. Reanna murmured, but didn’t awaken.

  He grabbed the soap and silently chuckled at the lilac smell that escaped. Far from the spice of his own soap, this bar smelled soft and kissed of springtime. There was a thoughtful maid somewhere in his household.

  Killian slowly washed Reanna’s skin, slippery and glistening in the low firelight. Beads of water clung to the skin on her shoulder, and Killian couldn’t resist kissing them off. His soapy hands went down her arms to her hands, where he played with each delicate finger, half the size of his own. He soaped her body, over her breasts, her soft stomach, and deep into her, exploring every crevice he could.

  Control escaping him, and certainly not what he intended, Killian was brutally hard for her again, and he wondered if the pole jutting into the small of her back was uncomfortable. He shifted her slightly so she was at a more comfortable angle to him, and then a soft voice floated up.

  “I was quite curious as to where you were taking me, but this has been more than pleasant.” She turned her head to look up at him, seduction in her crystal blue eyes.

  “You have been awake this whole time?”

  She nodded, not hiding the scheming smile playing on her lips.

  He laughed at her audacity. “Hellion. Who would have guessed…” Killian splashed her, which immediately sent her scampering to the far end of the large tub. She wasted no time in splashing him back.

  Killian eyed her, not quite believing that Reanna was actually such a vixen. Everything he had seen of her had been proper—proper to the point of boring—he hadn’t had the slightest clue she possessed such a wicked streak. And he was quickly finding it enjoyable.

  She was still grinning when she decided it was time to apologize. “I am sorry, I should not have fleeced you. But it was just so nice, the warm water, you humming—”

  “I was humming?” Disbelief raised his brows.

  “Oh, yes, humming.” She nodded as her arms swished slowly back and forth along the water’s break. Low waves rolled languidly to his side of the tub. Her nipples hid just below the bubbles on the water’s surface, and at that moment, Killian would have murdered to have a bit more water let out of the tub so he could see her nipples, ripe and taut as they went from the warm water to the cool air.

  “And the pretty smelling soap.” The side of her face cocked up as she stared
lasciviously at his chest, down to the point it disappeared beneath the water. Her blue eyes veered up to his face. “And your hands…”

  Killian smiled to himself. Was she trying to seduce him? She apparently couldn’t see his cock, more than ready for her, through the soapy froth. “My hands?”

  “Yes, your hands. You do realize that for such large hands, you are quite good with them.”

  “I am?” He moved his fingers to her rhythmically moving arms, and clasped onto her wrists, pulling her whole body back to his. He could see her slight confusion as to how to position herself, so he reached down and slid his hands along her thighs, gently bending her legs until she fully straddled him.

  She smiled when she was finally set snuggly onto his lap. “Yes, you are very creative with them. Flawless, one might even say.”

  Raw, unhidden passion flowed from her eyes. Whereas Killian had planned on holding back, within seconds, he was attacking her hungrily, and his body was screaming so harshly for release, he doubted he would be able to stop.

  Minutes passed before he managed to tear back from her swollen lips, from her wet body pressing up against his.

  Confusion reigned in her ravaged features. “What?” Her hands moved from his neck to his chest. “Why are we stopping?”

  His fingers reached out to touch the worry on her face. “No, love, it is not you. I had not meant for this to happen. Not again. You are much too sore.”

  “Really?” Her face switched into understanding. “Actually, I do not feel much soreness at all. In fact, this water is perfectly soothing.”

  She swiveled her hips on his lap and splashed a little water on her chest for effect. Then she leaned back from him. “But if you say I am too sore…”

  “Shameless—” Killian groaned as his hand dove into her wet hair, yanking her back to him, and he kissed her with harsh intensity. His hands dove down her slick body, between them, spreading her to his touch. When he finally broke the kiss, his voice was rough. “God, love, are you sure you are not in pain?”

  “Killian, what you are doing to me is—” Her voice lost out to her odd groan-purr as he circled her sensitive nubbin. She gasped a breath. “Nowhere near pain.”

  “God help me, we do this slow, then.” Killian grabbed her hips and began to guide her body onto his shaft.

  “In here?” Reanna’s eyes went wide.

  Killian grimaced. He was just about to enter her, and the need to be buried deep within her was breaking him. “Yes, right here, right now, love.”

  His fingers spread her wide, and Killian brought her down atop him, not controlling his thick groan as he slid into her tightness.

  Water quickly found the edge of the tub, splashing out as Killian found his rhythm, and Reanna rode, nails in his shoulders, following his lead.

  His hands attacked her body, no morsel left untouched, and he continued to dive down between them, teasing her, plying her folds into pitching against him. She held nothing back, begging him with her screams.

  Eyes closed, head back, her passion had Killian’s eyes riveted to her every movement. Her hands had ripped from him to grip the sides of the copper tub so she could lean back and offer him better access. He took full advantage. She had not reached orgasm yet, and he doubted he could hold back another instant before he burst inside of her.

  Then, just as her mouth opened to scream, her body tightening around him, Killian exploded, all sight and sound lost to him.

  It was the purest pleasure he had ever felt with a woman.

  The thought struck him—and didn’t leave his mind for the rest of the night.

  ~~~

  Reanna spun onto her side in the large bed, pulling the deep blue coverlet with her and tucking it up under chin. Dreams floating away, her eyes flew open when reality hit. She was married, and, good God, the things Killian had done to her last night.

  Reanna closed her eyes as the memories of this bed and the copper tub flooded her mind. Her body tingled at the memories, even as she could feel her cheeks go red in embarrassment.

  But there was no need to be embarrassed. Killian had taken her to those wonderful highs, and she knew he wouldn’t want her to be embarrassed by them.

  Killian—she rolled over, searching for him, but he wasn’t in bed. Propping herself up on her elbows, she surveyed the room. She had paid no attention to it last night. Masculine. Dark mahogany overwhelmed the room, from gleaming wood floors, to the tables, chairs, wardrobe, and long writing desk scattered in the space. Several tapestries hung along the walls in muted darkness, deep rich colors played out scenes of military conquests from long ago.

  Reanna swung her feet to the floor and stepped from the bed, immediately realizing she was naked. She rushed to her night rail that had been strewn across a chair by the bed. Not that it covered up much of her nudity.

  Killian wasn’t in the room, but Reanna knew she had slept overly long and couldn’t expect her husband to lounge about, waiting for her to grace the morning with her presence.

  Reluctant to leave the room that she had, in one night, grown to love, for it was where Killian had finally, after all these months, made her his own, she turned to the door adjoining the two suites.

  Hugging herself, she moved into her room, intent on changing and getting ready for the day as quickly as possible. She couldn’t wait to join her husband in whatever he had planned for the first day of their honeymoon.

  { Chapter 4 }

  Killian stared at the glass of brandy before him, an ancient Egyptian flint knife flipping casually in his hand, as he debated whether or not he would down the amber liquid. The decanter was near empty and brandy had already cost him too much last night. He wasn’t about to repeat that mistake. Especially not with the girl still around.

  He turned his chair around and looked out the large pane of glass that ran the expanse of his study. Precise, manicured lawns rolled down the sloping hill before him, the bright morning sun and vibrant greenery of early summer doing nothing to lighten his mood. Birds chirped off in the distance, madcap conversations that only grated on his nerves.

  He had slept for a few hours and woken up early, just as the first rays of light crested the horizon. Woken up disgusted with himself. Woken up disgusted at the slip of a girl beside him.

  He had been down in his study since. Hours passed as he drank and contemplated what the fate of the girl tucked into his bed would be.

  It was a battle he wasn’t keen on having. A battle with himself over some very disturbing truths that he wasn’t even attempting to lie to himself about. He had wanted, enjoyed—hell—lost himself with her last night. Something disturbing had happened that he couldn’t describe and didn’t want to think about. The other truth, and the fact that made the first so heinous, was that she was still the daughter of the man he was committed to destroying.

  He didn’t want her, didn’t need anything like her in his life, and the whole loving fiancé farce he had produced over the past three months had grated on him. He had needed to consummate the marriage to make sure no annulment could be fought for, and now, she had served her purpose, and he was done with her.

  He had originally planned to allow her to live in London, or here at Curplan. As long as their lives were in no way mingled. An occasional passing would have been tolerable, but Killian had planned to resume his pre-engagement lifestyle, including resurrecting several of the mistresses that he had begrudgingly set loose in the name of a scandal-free engagement.

  But after last night. Hell. He wanted her nowhere near him.

  Nowhere that he could possibly be reminded of all that he had betrayed last night when he had lost control in her arms. He had never felt so damn much in his life, and he wasn’t about to again, especially not with the daughter of that bastard. Killian had betrayed his mission, his parents’ memories, and his quest to honor the family name, all for one—a few hours—of pleasure.

  So nowhere had to mean far, far away from London and Curplan. He could not, would not, af
ford such a night again.

  Killian turned his chair back to the wide desk, fingertip balancing the flint knife upright on the wood, when a thought struck him. Something he had never considered.

  Was it even possible that he was the one being duped? Could she have been sent to him by her father in order to fleece him? Did the bastard finally figure out it had been Killian all along who had ruined him? And then sent his daughter to prostitute herself in order to gain back what was lost?

  The thought invaded his mind so quickly and fully, that the wood on the desk ripped up as he slammed the knife down. He hadn’t even realized he had dug it into his desk.

  A soft knock on the study door drew his attention across the room. He was not surprised when Reanna meekly poked her head in, obviously not wanting to disturb him.

  “Ah, yes, the blushing bride.” He waved his hand dramatically. “Do come in and have a seat.”

  ~~~

  She had been happy to find Killian so quickly, but as Reanna opened the door and stepped into the study, she looked quizzically at her new husband. His words had been said with a snap, and possibly even a little slurred. From her father, she knew well enough to step lightly around a man that was drunk. Slowly, she approached Killian and spied a near-empty decanter and full glass sitting at the edge of his desk.

  Shock registered on her face. “Killian, are you drunk?”

  “Drunk?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I hardly see how that should matter to you. Sit.”

  Hesitant, staring at him in confusion, she sat down on the edge of an uncomfortable, smoothly leathered chair. His voice sounded biting, even malicious, and it seemed to be directed at her. That had to be her imagination. “Killian, is everything all right?”

  “To the nines, or it will be an hour from now.” He leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on the desk and clasping his hands in front of his chin. “What do you know of your father?”

  Reanna blinked at the sudden change in topics, then couldn’t stop the fear that gripped her at mention of her father. She couldn’t let Killian see. She forced her voice light. “I am afraid not much. My father did spend more time at our home in Suffolk when my mother was alive. After she passed, he was rarely around. I have only recently come to know him more since he moved to Suffolk last year. He is a good man. He has always treated me well.” She treaded carefully. “But I do know that he left London in some kind of scandal.”