WidowsWickedWish

by Lynne Barron

  “What was that about, Livy?” he asked, his voice gentle.

  She continued to smooth Charlie’s curls, to twist them around her fingertips. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

  “It’s a formidable temper,” he whispered. His hands were massaging her shoulders, her neck, the pressure firm but not hard. Olivia moaned at the exquisite relief.

  “I don’t unleash it often.”

  “I would guess only when it comes to your children.”

  “You are very wise,” she praised.

  “Not so wise,” he countered. “A truly wise man would not have proposed to a lady in such a manner.”

  “You did not propose,” Olivia said quickly. “And you must not.”

  “Mustn’t I?” he asked.

  Charlie murmured in his sleep and rolled away from his mother’s hand. Olivia rose and turned to face Jack. He looked confused and altogether beautiful. She held out her hand to him and led him across the hall and into her room. She perched on the window seat, patted the yellow-and-white striped cushion beside her.

  He sat next to her and Olivia turned to face him, pulling her feet up on the seat beside her.

  “Olivia, you spoke of Fanny having choices,” he said. “You have choices, as well. This time you can choose your husband rather than allowing your mother to choose him for you.”

  “But Mother did not choose my husband,” Olivia replied. “She thought to make me a duchess, planned to marry me to the Marquis of Belmont.”

  “That debauched old reprobate?” he asked in obvious surprise. “Hell, he must have been nearly fifty when you made your bow.”

  “I could not stomach the idea of tying myself to him,” she agreed, remembering the way in which he’d leered at her and spoken to her breasts whenever she was trapped in conversation with him. “In truth, it was the only time I have ever refused to bow to Mother’s demands. But it won’t be the last. Even now she plots and schemes to marry me to his son.”

  “You have refused?” he asked, his gaze intent upon her.

  “I have. Repeatedly. And I will go on refusing until Mother finally accepts that she will not make me a duchess.”

  Jack looked away, seemed to ponder her words for a time, before turning back to her. “I understand Palmerton was a less than perfect husband, but surely you realize that not all men are cast in the same mold.”

  “I do know it,” she agreed.

  “And yet you do not wish to marry me. Why?”

  “Why do you wish to marry me?” Olivia countered.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Yes. You said you would not have bedded me had you not intended to wed me,” she reminded him. “And yet in less than one day you were in my bed. Precisely when did you decide to marry me?”

  Jack blinked at her, leaned away from her just a bit.

  “We’ve known one another for years, Olivia. You are a lovely woman, a wonderful mother. It goes without saying that you are a perfect lady, one worthy of esteem and respect. A lady any man would be proud to call his wife.”

  To Olivia’s ears, his words sounded rehearsed and she imagined this was the speech he had intended to give when he proposed, the words he might have said to her this evening had she not behaved like a fishwife.

  “I am not a gentleman by birth,” he continued. “But I like to think that I am a gentleman in my behavior and my actions. I am now a full partner in the Sedgefield Mining Company. I have a sizable income, one that will continue to grow. I can afford to maintain the lifestyle to which you have been accustomed.”

  Olivia looked away to hide her smile. Good Lord, men were such fools. There wasn’t one aspect of his litany that tempted her.

  “I would treat your children as if they were my own.”

  All right, she amended, one aspect tempted her.

  “I would give you more children.”

  “More children,” she repeated, her breath stalled in her lungs.

  “I regret not giving Justine brothers and sisters,” he admitted softly. “I would like a son to inherit the business my father and I have worked so hard to build.”

  “I see,” she replied, looking back at him, seeing that desire for more children, for a son of his own, on his face. She forced her lips into a smile. “You spent one day in my company and concluded that I am a perfect lady, one that you would be proud to call your wife?”

  “Of course not,” he replied.

  Olivia waited for him to continue, knowing that no matter what words he chose, the die had already been cast.

  “As I said, we have known one another for years. It only took seeing you again to remind me that you would make an ideal wife.”

  Olivia laughed. Really she couldn’t help it. She was so far removed from the ideal wife he wanted.

  “Jack, I am honored by the regard you have shown me in offering marriage. Regretfully, I must decline.”

  Jack stood and paced across the room, turned and paced back to stand before her.

  “Why?” he asked, his face perfectly composed.

  “I find I like my independence,” she replied. And while it was the truth, it was not all of it. “I have plans for my life that do not include a husband.”

  “Plans?” he asked as he sat beside her once more. “What sort of plans?”

  “I’d like to learn to play the violin, buy a smart little curricle and race across the downs, take a walking tour of the Lake District, volunteer my time at the Foundling Hospital, gamble until dawn, supervise my children’s education, travel to Rome, Jerusalem, Philadelphia, any number of places.”

  “And these are things you cannot do with a husband?” he asked. Olivia was pleased to see a small smile hovering on his lips.

  “I could, but I choose not to. I choose to do them on my own, or with my children, my family, my friends or my lover.”

  “Your lover?” he asked and the smile was in his eyes.

  “Last night was wonderful,” she said, bending her head to hide her embarrassment.

  “Better than wonderful,” he assured her. “Amazing.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Quite amazing. And unexpected.”

  “In many ways.” He lifted his hand and laid it upon her cheek, gently lifting her head. “There are many, many more unexpected ways I would like to make love to you.”

  “I would not turn you away,” she whispered.

  “But you will not marry me.”

  “If I were inclined to marry again, you would be my first choice.”

  “You are not so inclined?”

  “I am not.”

  “I would be a good husband to you, Livy,” he murmured as his hand dropped from her cheek to her neck. He kept his eyes on her, watching her reaction to his touch.

  “I do not doubt that.”

  “I would be a faithful husband, quite devoted to your pleasure.”

  “Yes,” she agreed with a shiver. Jack’s fingers toyed with the first button on her dress. She held her breath until the button popped from its hole.

  “I would never stray from your bed,” he promised. Another button came free. “In fact you would likely need to eject me from it as you did this morning.”

  “I didn’t want to…my children.” The third and fourth buttons were freed.

  “Yes. I hadn’t thought. Of course your children are your priority.” There went the fifth.

  “Always.”

  “As it should be.” Sixth, seventh and eighth. “Your son is asleep.”

  “And my daughter is no doubt tormenting yours.” Ninth. How many buttons did her dress have?

  “We are quite alone.”

  “And likely to remain so for an hour or more.” Olivia trembled as he ran one long lean finger from her navel to her neck.

  “Is that all?” he asked.

  “Does it normally take longer? Last night…” Jack released the last button, reached up with both hands and pushed her dress from her shoulders taking her shift with it.

  “Last night was perfe
ct. You were perfect.”

  “I’ve never felt that…that relief.”

  “I want to give you that relief again. That release. Climax. Orgasm. I want to make you come again.”

  His words, the dark timber in his voice, rushed over her, heating her skin. Olivia glanced toward the door.

  “It’s locked,” he assured her.

  Olivia rose to her feet to stand before him, stepped into the space he provided when he opened his legs. She shrugged her shoulders and her dress and shift fell away to land at her feet. She dropped her hands to the ribbon of her drawers, gave it a deft tug and there they went. Olivia stepped out of her garments and kicked them aside.

  Jack pulled his jersey up and over his head and threw it on the pile of clothing on the floor. His pants and smalls soon followed. Olivia shivered from both his hot eyes upon her and the cold of the room.

  “Brrr.” She turned and sprinted for the bed, diving under the covers, rolling onto her side and holding the blanket up in invitation. “Oh, Mr. Bentley.”

  “I don’t know, Lady Palmerton,” he replied as he crossed the room, stalking slowly toward her. “I’m beginning to think you only want the use my body, to have your wicked way with me.”

  “Do you mind terribly?” she asked as he crawled in beside her.

  “I’m sure that I should, but I just can’t seem to.” He wrapped his arms around her and rolled her up onto his chest, her legs falling on either side of his hips, his erection, hot and heavy between them.

  “If you don’t mind,” Olivia began, her chin on her crossed hands that lay on his chest. She looked up at him through her lashes.

  He arched a brow in question when she fell silent.

  “I thought I might…that is…if it’s allowed, I’d like to…explore you.”

  “Livy,” he whispered. “The things you say.”

  “May I?”

  At his nod Olivia rose above him, rested her hands on his chest and settled herself straddling his hips. From her vantage point she could see him spread out before her like a banquet. Unable to bring herself to look at the hard length of him that lay pulsing and hot between her legs, she studied his broad chest.

  “Is it permissible for me to touch you?” she asked and smiled as he drew a deep breath and his eyes gleamed.

  “God yes,” he growled.

  “Hmmm, where to begin?”

  She swept her hands over his chest, her fingers trailing in the soft, curly hairs that circled his nipples.

  “That’s a fine place to start,” he told her and Olivia was pleased to see the smile in his deep blue eyes and upon his wide, full lips.

  “Hmm, here I think,” and she leaned forward to capture that smile, to drink it in, to savor it. She kissed him as he had taught her the night before, gentle and teasing at first, her lips and the tip of her tongue roaming and caressing. When he opened his lips she swooped in, delving deep, glorying to hear him groan low in the back of his throat, to feel his hips jerk beneath her. She kissed him, over and over, until the kisses no longer began or ended, they just went on and on. They kissed until they were forced to break apart in order to drag panting breaths into their starving lungs.

  “Livy,” he murmured when she trailed her lips across his jaw and down his neck, her mouth open and wet.

  “Do you like this?” she asked against his salty skin. He made no reply beyond a soft hum that vibrated through his chest. Emboldened, she ran her lips across his shoulder, her tongue leaving a wet trail, while her hands drifted across his chest, her fingers finding his nipples once more.

  “Do you…” she began before his hands rose to her back and journeyed up her spine, his fingers finding each vertebra and paying homage, leaving a tingling shiver in their wake. “Oh, that’s delicious.”

  “Like that, do you?” he murmured before gliding his hands back down with the same wonderful attention to each bump along the way.

  “I never knew my back was so…so sensitive,” she whispered into the hollow at his throat.

  She felt his soft laughter against her lips and rose to look down at him.

  “Last night, what you did to my…” she lifted her hands to her breasts, cupping them. “When you put your mouth on me…”

  Jack jerked beneath her, his gaze dropping to her hands. His breath left him on a quiet moan.

  “Would it be the same for you?”

  Before he could answer she dipped her head and placed the most chaste of kisses on one nipple then the other. Again he jerked beneath her, his member nudging the folds of her sex in the most wonderful way.

  “Ah, Livy,” he moaned when she began to play, teasing his nipples with lips and tongue.

  Olivia could not remember ever feeling as powerful as she did in that moment. With the power came a wave of desire that had her drawing in a trembling breath and bearing down upon the hard length of him. Heat shot from between her legs and raced up her spine and through her limbs.

  Jack’s hands wandered from her back down to her hips to wrap around them and hold her to him. He rocked beneath her, gently thrusting against her, driving the heat deep within her core. She thought he might intend to roll her to her back, cutting off her explorations before she was ready. In hopes of forestalling him she pulled his nipple between her lips, dragged her teeth over his pebbled flesh and reveled in the dark groan that rumbled from his chest.

  “Damn, Livy,” he growled. She twirled her tongue around his nipple and he nearly unseated her as he thrust up.

  She rose to sitting, allowing the motion to drag her aching flesh down the hard length of him, setting off a riot of sensations deep within her.

  “I’m not ready,” she whispered.

  “There’s no rush, love,” he assured her through clenched teeth.

  She looked down to where their bodies met. His member lay upon his flat stomach, only a few inches visible. Wanting to see more, she scooted back until she was resting on his thighs and his…his…

  “What does one call it?” she asked.

  “There are any number of terms,” he replied gruffly.

  “Such as?” She lifted one hand to touch him, thought better of it and dropped her hand before meeting his eyes once more.

  “Go ahead,” he urged her, his voice silky and low.

  “Is it permitted?”

  “God, yes. Permitted, encouraged, begged for on occasion.”

  Tentatively she drew one finger around the engorged head, watched in fascination as his flesh pulsed and seemed to grow even harder, longer.

  “Such as…” she prompted as she trailed her fingers down his length and through the curls at the base.

  “Manhood is the politest term I can think of,” he rasped out.

  “Manhood,” she repeated reverently. His manhood twitched and Olivia looked up at him through her lashes before dropping her curious gaze once more.

  “Does it pain you?” It looked as if it might. The fat tip seemed an angry shade of red, almost purple.

  “Not pain precisely,” he answered around a groan. “Take me in your hand, Livy, I’m begging you.”

  She wrapped her fingers around him, marveled at the heat, the life that flowed through his hard flesh. “So soft and yet as hard as steel.”

  “Jesus, Livy.” His hands fell away from her hips to grip the coverlet as his hips lurched, his manhood gliding through her hand. When he subsided onto the bed again with a groan, Olivia tightened her grip and drew her hand from base to tip and back down again, watching all the while. Again and again she caressed him, slowly, steadily. She listened to his breathing as it became more labored and peeped up at him through her lashes.

  He was looking right back at her, his eyes gleaming as bright as the hottest, bluest flame, his jaw clamped tight, a fine sheen of moisture beading his forehead.

  “And the less polite terms?” she asked.

  Jack looked back at her blankly.

  “You said manhood was a polite term,” she prompted.

  “Penis,”
he replied around a groan that might have been a laugh.

  Olivia wrinkled her brow. “What else?”

  When he did not reply, she squeezed him gently.

  “Ah, Livy, you’re killing me,” he panted.

  “Sorry.” When she made to remove her hand, horrified that she’d hurt him, Jack wrapped his hand around hers.

  “Killing me in the best possible way,” he assured her before pumping their joined hands down his length and back up again.

  They both watched as their hands moved over him, his large and dark, hers small and pale, the hard flesh beneath a rosy pink. Olivia soon found the grip and rhythm he so obviously wanted.

  “Shaft,” he whispered before withdrawing his hand from hers to find her breast. His other hand came up and he cupped both breasts, gently squeezed.

  “Shaft,” she repeated, arching her back to press her breasts firmly into his hands. She increased her tempo, her hand gliding up and down his shaft, faster, firmer. Her breath stuttered when he caught her nipples between thumbs and forefingers and gave her the slightest pinch.

  “Oh, my,” she whispered, her eyes drifting closed to better absorb the pleasure shooting through her like lightning, shooting deep within her womb.

  “Cock,” he growled.

  “Cock,” she repeated in a shocked whisper. “Cock, truly?”

  Jack laughed even as his hips rose and he pumped his cock in counterpoint to the movement of her hand, once, twice and again.

  “Do you want to put your cock inside me?” Olivia asked, sure that he must. She certainly hoped he did.

  “Yes Livy!”

  Jack grasped her hips and raised her over his cock until he was poised at the opening to her body. It took her a moment to understand what he intended.

  “Are you certain we can do it this way?” she asked curiously.

  “Quite certain,” he assured her with a wolfish grin.

  Olivia grinned back at him and guided his cock to that place that felt so terribly empty. As the fat head prodded her flesh, she met his eyes and held them, wanting to watch his face, see his expression as she took him into her body.

  Trusting him to hold her steady, she relaxed her thighs, felt the engorged tip slip into her, welcomed the slight sting, the familiar stretching sensation as she impaled herself upon him.