The Demon Duchess: An Aristocrat Falls for a Cowboy Second Chance Romance (The Demon Duchess Series Book 2)

by Tessa Bowen

  He pushed closer, sliding back and forth so that they could both enjoy the wondrous slip of friction. “Because I knew I’d never measure up to Barrington.”

  Abigail froze and looked at him in surprise. She grabbed the sides of his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Don’t you know he’s yesterday’s news?”

  She kissed him with all the desire she felt for him and he moaned into her mouth, gliding into her, filling her to her center. He held her hips steady as he began to thrust with long deep strokes. Waves of heady pleasure ripped through Abigail. She clung to him, raking her nails across his back and buttocks, slamming herself against him in a desperate pursuit at getting closer.

  “Easy sweetheart,” he soothed. “We’ll get there.”

  “I want to feel you on top of me.”

  He rolled her onto her back and threaded their fingers together over her head. He watched her as he moved inside her. Tenderly he pressed a kiss to her crinkled brow. “You scrunch up during sex too. Why do you look so stressed?”

  “I fear I might expire with bliss.”

  “That would be a good thing.”

  He was plumbing her depths, making love to her with gentle ease, but still she felt coiled tight as a spring, the powerful vortex within her drew her deeper and deeper. “What if I lose myself in oblivion?”

  He held her with his steady eyes. “I won’t let you go any place that’s not here.”

  Abigail had never been made love to with such careful precision. Every smooth thrust brought her closer to the pinnacle of her desire, until her entire body shook with the power of her craving. He held her fast until the crushingly sweet end, forcing her not to hurry as she rolled her hips to meet his every stab.

  “I’m about to scream,” she threatened with a frenzied rasp. “The entire house will hear me.”

  “Go ahead and scream,” he purred. “They’ll know Johnny is finally doing right by you.”

  Johnny was doing so right by her, that the breath rushed from her lungs even as a deep shifting took place in her womb. Pinned as she was, she could do nothing but allow the warm waves of satisfaction to crash over her again and again. She did scream, but it was into his mouth as she sucked his tongue and lips in raw hunger.

  John followed suit, grinding his growl of release against her throat as he spent himself deep inside her. Abigail clutched him close, waiting for her breath to come back. She was right where he’d left her, safe in his arms. He’d kept his promise.

  He pulled back and grinned lazily. “That was raaaaaather undignified.”

  “Don’t tease me, you horrid man,” she wheezed.

  Abigail Jackson promptly fell into a heavenly slumber, for her husband had made good and proper love to her. If he wanted undignified, she’d show him just how much a sated baroness could snore.

  JOHN KNEW WHERE HE WAS HEADING WHEN HE WOKE just before dawn. Not downstairs for a bracing cup of coffee and not to the bathroom for a quick piss. No, he was heading straight to the silky triangle of delight situated between the Baroness’s slender thighs. His mouth watered at the thought and he knew the sooner he attached his tongue and lips to that area the better. He’d have sampled her down below the night before, but she’d fallen into a post-coital stupor, snoring raaaaaather loudly. She was breathing in a lady-like fashion at present.

  He took a few more moments to admire the beautiful woman sleeping naked in his bed. She looked so flushed and content—so different from the stiff woman he’d done training for back in England. That seemed like a lifetime ago. What a crazy ride they’d been on—literally and figuratively. This was the woman who’d ridden the skittish colt like a super-jock across the rugged Montana landscape—the very same woman who’d sniffed contemptuously at him in her satin evening gown when he’d tried to kiss her. That hoity-toity broad was long gone, although just the right amount of her still lingered. It took a rare breed of female to look stylish feeding pigs—just like it took a singular sort of dame to appear this ravishing while asleep.

  Very carefully he pulled the comforter back, lowering it to just below her hips. His tousled hair flopped over her naked torso as he kissed a path down to her belly button. He paused there, brushing over the soft curve of flesh. He remembered her whittled away midsection that first night. She’d been almost alarmingly fit and she still was, but there was just a bit extra there now—just an inch or so of delicious flesh, the right amount so that his teeth had something to dig into. He’d meant to wake her by going down on her, but he was momentarily distracted by this silky patch right below her navel and directly above the silkiest patch of all.

  She stirred and stretched. “Oh, drat—” she said, her voice thick with sleep. “You’ve found me out. I can’t seem to lose that bit.”

  John sucked the precious bit of flesh into his mouth then let it go when she objected with a squeak. “Don’t lose it—I love this bit.”

  “If you keep force feeding me ice cream, I’ll never lose my belly. I’ll be as plump as a partridge.”

  He laid a warm palm across her abdomen. “Ducky lived in there,” he said with wonder then he trailed his hand lower until his fingers nestled in her plush pubic hair. “And she came out here.”

  He dipped down low, parting her thighs to make room for his broad shoulders. When she was properly spread for him, he opened his mouth wide across her delicate petals and licked a slow swipe all the way from her opening to the tight sprout of her desire. He sunk one finger inside her weeping opening then another, rotating them as he circled her delicate flesh with his grainy tongue. She thrashed beneath his ministrations and moaned his name.

  John let out a low hum of male approval while he nibbled and nipped at her ripened body. He wallowed in the warm and scented valley of her sweet female center. She was like honey and wine and flowers and something else—a scent so delicate he couldn’t identify it, but he knew that perfume was all woman. She smelled and tasted divine—she was an expensive spread to be sure. He’d face planted in a high-end dessert trolley and planned on eating his way out. He could have been happy there toiling away all day, but she came into his mouth, oozing deliciously. John kissed the tremors away, wiping his mouth on the inside of her thigh. If this is what marriage was like, he should have gotten married sooner. Not just any woman would taste so good though—she was a baroness after all. He’d held out for a good reason.

  Her body rattled as she tried to catch her breath. If she told him that lovely, he’d have to make fun of her. As it was, the mischievous boy in him was already coming out as he stared down at her wet pubic hair. His fingers sifted through the fine golden strands, pinching them together until they formed a perfect faux hawk.

  When he was satisfied with his downy sculpture, he leaned back on his elbow and sniggered.

  She struggled to her elbows, squinting hazily down the length of her body. “What have you done…?”

  “I gave you Ducky’s hairstyle.”

  “Oh, you terrible man!” She covered her laughter with her palm. “Put it back to rights!”

  “I took a nosedive into the Duck pond,” he clowned. “I wet my beak in Swan Lake.”

  He laughed at his own witticisms as he jumped out of bed. He yanked his boxers on as he strode to the bathroom to retrieve two hand towels, one damp the other dry. She allowed him to clean her up with the moistened one then pat her dry with the other.

  “I’m like your handmaiden,” he joked.

  “And a very fine one at that.”

  She nudged him playfully with her elegant toes. He snatched up her ankle and nipped the delicate arch of her foot. Her eyes dropped to his obvious erection straining against the thin cotton of his boxers. “You’re not getting out of bed just yet, are you?” she asked coyly. “We haven’t finished with you.”

  He hadn’t wanted to make demands. He figured he had a lot of making up to do, not the other way around.

  “Well shucks, if the lady is willing…”

  “I’m more than willing. I’m want
ing.”

  She crawled like a cat across the bed toward him, then caught the edge of his waistband with her fingernail and shucked his shorts around his hips. The sight of her perfect ass hiked in the air as she pleasured him nearly made him shoot off in the first three seconds. Not to mention the feel of her glorious hair tumbling over his lap as she bobbed and sucked. What she was doing to him was exquisite torture, but it made him want to devour her. It made him want to plunder her depths until they were both blind with the pleasure of it. He hated to interrupt the silken slide of her mouth, but if he didn’t bury his cock in her soon he might be the one to expire or go to heaven.

  “Jesus,” he rasped, reaching hungrily to clasp at her backside. “I’ve got to be inside you.”

  She let out a cry of surprise when he snatched her around the waist, carrying her across the room to deposit her in front of the large bay window where a neat little seat of cushions was inset.

  “Bend over and spread your legs,” he growled.

  “Oh my,” she teased. “I guess you rather liked that.”

  The Baroness assumed the position, one leg bent and resting on the window seat, while she braced herself with a hand flat against the wall.

  His heart raced and his blood boiled. It was crazy how fast he went from playful Johnny to slavering werewolf. “How do you feel about being taken from behind?” he rumbled.

  She wiggled her bottom enticingly. “I feel quite good about it.”

  His gaze was scorching as it moved over her naked body. Dawn would break soon—the sun was just about to rise over the ridge in the distance. It glowed like an amber jewel, filling the room with a glow, bathing her porcelain form in warm light. Her body was perfection. Her hair looked pink in this light, like rose quartz shining through a scrim of burnished silk. Her legs were spread just wide enough so that he could make out the crevice between them.

  Hungrily, he reached out and fingered the folds. “You look damn good naked.”

  “‘It’s what’s on the inside that counts’.” She threw his earlier words in his face with a little smirk.

  He growled low again, holding her tight around her waist, palming her belly as he came into her. She was wet and ready, no need to be gentle. He took her with powerful strokes, showing her what he was made of. She showed him too, ramming herself against his every push. Both hands clasped her now, guiding her backward to receive every one of his unrelenting blows. He knew deep male satisfaction when her entire body started to quiver and her moans turned into cries of ecstatic submission.

  “Do you like the way I fuck you?” he rasped, bending over her to take the lobe of her ear between his teeth.

  “Yes!” she gasped.

  He was in the grips of demonic possession as he bit her neck, still hammering into her soft wet body. Every nerve ending in his body was on fire for her.

  “Who makes you come harder, me or him?”

  “You…of course.”

  His fingers moved over her mouth. “Say it—tell me you love the way I fuck you. I want to hear you say fuck.”

  She reached her peak with hard thrashing grinds, raggedly crying out in her pleasure. “I love the way you fuck me, Johnny!”

  It wasn’t so much the expletive that got him off as it was that name from her lips. There was something so kinky and intimate about her using it at a time like this. He gripped her ass tight, kneading handfuls of the taut flesh as he climaxed in explosive shots.

  John came down from the dizzying high and pulled out of her, being as gentle as he could. He stroked a loving hand up her back then hugged her from behind.

  “I beg your pardon,” he mocked softly. “But I believe I was making love to you.”

  She giggled between pants.

  “Sorry Abbie, I got a little out of hand there.”

  “Don’t apologize for your passion.”

  Passion was it? She would use a word like that, but he supposed she was right. He felt passion for this woman—at least when she hiked her naked ass in the air and spread her legs.

  A sly grin relaxed his features. “In breeding circles, we call that a live cover.”

  She reached behind him and squeezed his buttocks. “Are we breeding?”

  “I guess we should talk about that.”

  “It’s not likely it would happen so soon. Although...” she trailed off. “Oh, look at the sunrise.”

  “That’s a Montana sunrise,” he told her, pulling her into his lap in the window seat. She shivered against him and pressed herself against his warm flesh.

  He disentangled himself and rose, heading to a chest of drawers. “Hold on, let me get you a sweatshirt.”

  “A what?”

  “Let me guess, you’ve never worn a sweatshirt before.”

  She blinked innocently. “I can’t say that I have.”

  “I’ve got something even better than a sweatshirt.” He tossed her his high school football jersey.

  “Oh, it’s a sporting kit,” she said, unfolding the red and white Billings Saints jersey with the number 3 on the front and his last name in bold white letters across the back.

  He laughed at her use of language, but his amusement was stopped up short when she slid the jersey over her head. Could there be anything sexier than this elegant woman all undone with her nipples showing through the mesh nylon of his high school football jersey? Her long legs were curled under her—the hem just covered her naughty bits.

  “You look better in that than I thought.”

  “All I need is a pair of pom-poms and two ponytails.”

  He dragged her back into his lap. “Jesus,” he shuddered. “That would send me right over the edge.”

  She gave him a long languorous kiss, winding her fingers through his hair. “It’s nice to sit here with you and watch the sun come up,” she told him. “I feel so safe in your arms and it’s so beautiful here.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You like my home state?” John asked.

  Abigail marveled at the awe-inspiring landscape. “Yes, it’s a place removed…”

  “Removed from civilization you mean? Yeah, we country bumpkins are a coarse lot—I’m sure you’re used to finer manners.”

  “Montana is a wonderful place,” She assured him, ignoring his self-deprecating humor. “And your manners are just fine.”

  “You sure you’ll be happy with a hick like me?”

  The Baroness smiled shyly. “I’m very happy that you’re my fella.” She let out a long satisfied sigh as she turned her attention back to the view. “The outside world can’t hurt us here.”

  He followed her gaze, his blue eyes scanned the horizon. “I used to think so once, maybe I’ll think so again.”

  “Can’t you let your mind rest here?” she asked softly. “Can’t you be at peace?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You keep mentioning…you know…?”

  “Yeah, I know—my jealousy is awkward. Is this because I was too rough? You probably don’t like that sort of language during sex…”

  “You weren’t too rough,” she reassured. “I very much enjoyed your live cover and your filthy mouth gives me a thrill, but I wish you would realize my romance with Trevor is in the past. We are friends now—nothing more. I don’t think of him ever in that way—I think only of you. You’ve filled my senses since that fateful night in the barn.”

  “That cream puff probably wore little white gloves when he touched you anyway. You like Johnny’s calloused workingman’s hands better, don’t you?”

  She grasped his strong shoulders and shook him a little. “Stop!” she chastised with a kiss. She thought of telling him how jealous of Nubia and little Miss Feathers in her Straight Hair she was, but she thought it best to change the subject.

  “You’re just so goddamn good-looking,” he told her. “Every man will want you—and that is going to piss me off.”

  Abigail couldn’t believe she was already aroused again, but she was. His words had re-ignited the flames in
her loins. She straddled him in the window seat, rubbing against him like a feline on a scratching post.

  “My God, woman—again?” he exclaimed in surprise. “You’re raaaaaather insatiable.”

  She was glad to see him relax. As his wife, this was a good trick to know—she could soothe his worry with sex. It would certainly be no trouble at all.

  She moved into the cradle of his lap, moaning deep in her throat as he grew erect. “Your body is a wonder,” she said referring to his speedy recovery.

  “I’m always ready to go where you’re concerned.”

  “How deliciously convenient.”

  His warm palms caressed her bottom then ran the length of her thighs. “I’ve always wanted a woman to take me sitting down. Your amazing legs reach all the way to the floor.”

  She spread her “amazing” legs wider and took him inside the warm sheath of her body, her toes curled into the carpet beneath them.

  “You’re filled with compliments this morning, Mr. Jackson.”

  “That’s because, Mrs. Jackson, you’re plying me with your sweet wet pu—”

  Abigail covered his mouth with hers, laughing into his mouth as she kissed him. She rode him, loving the way his hands fisted in the football jersey to draw the sheer fabric tight against her breasts. They came together in lazy bliss—this was not the frantic climax of before. She melted into his embrace when it was through, blinking back tears of joy as the sun rose bold and blazing in the enormous sky.

  “There’s Jeb,” she said brightly.

  John swiveled in the window seat, spotting his brother heading toward the stables. “That’s a real mood breaker,” he grumbled.

  Abigail gnawed her lip. Was it too much to broach this subject as well? Perhaps he was properly sated and would accept encouragement.

  “Do you think you two will ever work things out?”

  John was silent for a moment before he answered. “There is a lot of bad blood between us.”

  “He seems very willing to have a relationship with you—he does not harbor any resentment.”