The Lady and Her Pirate Duke

by Jilian Rouge

  “Close the door, if you please. You’ll let in a draft,” he said amiably over one shoulder, his naked body fully on display. Blindly, she reached behind her to shut the door closed.

  Georgie gulped, her ears aflame at the sight before her. It was too late to look away now, not when Rafe was a prime specimen of male beauty who appealed to her in every way. He was a powerfully built man, and she recalled that he had not looked that way when they were first married. From the carved muscle encasing his body to the wicked gleam in his eye when he addressed her—everything about him at that moment appealed to her. Not an ounce of fat could be found on him anywhere, not even on his enticingly rounded buttocks that moved sinuously as he walked towards his bath.

  When she finally found her voice, Georgie squeaked, “I can come back later.” Suddenly, her urge to flee was paramount, but she feared that the moment she moved, her legs would fail her.

  She watched as Rafe stepped into the bath and seated himself with a sigh of contentment. Still rooted to the spot, Georgie could do no more than stare at her husband. With his eyes closed and his head thrown back against the tub’s rim, Georgie wondered what new fresh hell was this that she had to be tortured in this way. She couldn’t deny his desirability, and there wasn’t much left in her to resist the sight he made.

  From his reclining position, eyes still closed, Rafe answered lazily with a sweep of one hand, “If you want.” But before she could turn on a shaky heel, Rafe called out, “But before you go, would you mind handing me that cloth over there?”

  Georgie turned to look where he indicated with the one eye he opened in its direction. A neatly folded cloth had been placed atop the side table near the fireplace, and she walked the few steps to retrieve it. She recognized it as one of hers; one of the many cloths she had used to practice her embroidery. She gave him an incredulous look to which he replied, “I know it’s one of yours. I only took it, knowing that it’s softer than the ones I own.”

  She didn’t respond to that, but only lifted it from the table. A square mound was folded within, and Rafe once again explained, “I took one of your bars of soap as well. I find the scent of yours more pleasing than my own.”

  Exasperated, she thought dryly, And I suppose you did so only to have my scent all over you.

  Without another word, she handed him the cloth and soap which he accepted with a broad smile. Again, she caught that wicked gleam in his eye but didn’t understand its meaning. He avoided her touch during the simple exchange and instead caught the cloth at a corner. Slowly shaking the bar of soap loose with an arm high above his head, Georgie watched as the soap fell with a small splash into the water along with a familiar looking object.

  In slow motion, Georgie watched with horror as her late grandmother’s cameo fell into the water. That it was a priceless memento of her grandmother didn’t horrify her as much as the sight of where it landed did.

  Her gaze shot straight to Rafe’s and he shamelessly claimed, “I don’t know how that got there.”

  Georgie speared him with a fuming glance and fired, “And I suppose my grandmother’s cameo just happened to be folded into that washcloth when I know I specifically placed it inside my jewelry case.”

  Rafe only shrugged as if the matter was of no consequence. Blandly, he said, “How it ended up in your washcloth shouldn’t matter to you so much as where it is presently. I, for one, would hate for my bathwater to grow cold before you actually find it, and so, I’ll be continuing.” With one hand, he dunked the washcloth below the water’s surface, and with the other, he lathered himself with the bar of soap, all while thoroughly ignoring the fuming woman staring down at him with daggers in her eyes.

  “And how do you propose I retrieve it?” she asked through gritted teeth, as flames of embarrassment heated her cheeks. While Georgie knew this was one of his ploys to get her to actively touch him, she had to admit to herself that it was cleverly planned. By Rafe’s standards, anyway. But even if she had guarded herself against such an obvious attack, she couldn’t deny her grandmother’s cameo needed rescuing.

  Never one to shy away from what needed to be done when he didn’t answer, she swiftly knelt next to the tub and plunged both hands into the water, searching. Rafe gave a small start, seeing as how her reach was dangerously close to his nether regions. It was an instinctive male reaction to anyone nearing his crotch without intentions of seduction, one borne from the reflex to protect one’s family jewels, so to speak.

  However perilously close Georgie was to almost unmanning him, Rafe almost laughed aloud when he caught Georgie’s hot blush when she realized what she was grasping at the moment. The only thing that prevented him from laughing was the tight grip she had on his very hard, very erect cock. Finally, she had her hands on him, and he could do no more than hold his breath for her next move.

  Georgie was mortified at first to be holding him thus. In her wildest imagination, she never would have guessed she would be touching Rafe like this, not here in his bedchamber, and most definitely not while he was in the middle of a bath. Since it had been ages since she had voluntarily touched him, she suddenly remembered Rafe’s long-ago lessons about pleasing him using her hands and mouth. Appreciating that she had the upper hand here, she reveled in the shift of power here.

  But most of all, holding him like this while he was deliciously wet and naked, she was unbelievably aroused--and had been since she had walked into the room watching him disrobe. Her nipples tingled beneath her nightrail; its soft material suddenly abrasive against the sensitive tips at her slightest movement. Her unbound breasts felt heavy with her own arousal, and she felt a growing wetness between her legs, right where she ached.

  What happened next happened out of Rafe’s fear that she would leave. By the look of humidity pooling in Georgie’s eyes from her own arousal, Rafe knew that her grandmother’s cameo had already been forgotten, and he was desperate to keep her mindful of him and only him. So, without further hesitation Rafe did the only thing he knew to do.

  He pulled her into the tub with him, smiling devilishly as he did so.

  Georgie shrieked as her center of gravity suddenly shifted when Rafe yanked her into the tub and on top of him. Entirely soaked through, she tried to gain purchase to get up, but Rafe had a firm hold of her around her waist. She only succeeded in wriggling against him, causing her dressing gown to gape open.

  Rafe uttered a strangled, “Oh, my god!” Georgie snapped her head up to look at him, wondering at the sudden change in his voice. His eyes were locked somewhere below her neck, and he looked somewhat pained. Looking down at herself, she found her wet nightrail plastered against her full breasts, the color of her skin and nipples wetly evident through the now-sheer fabric.

  His reaction to seeing her breasts like this did something to Georgie just then. Feeling desired and desirable all at once, she rejoiced inwardly that her sensual side hadn’t shriveled up and died during Rafe’s absence. It was rather too bad that no other man was able to make her feel like this, and that it had to be Rafe, almost seemed unfair. Unfair in the sense that she had been denied this exalting feeling for five long years and had to wait for his return to know it again.

  But he was here now, and for the two weeks they had together, she decided to take advantage of every moment while they had it. With the belief that Rafe had ruined her for any other man after him, Georgie elected to plunge in and give herself an unforgettable two weeks, a carnal memory to keep her warm at night later in the future.

  Decision made, Georgie reached for Rafe just as he reached for her. Rafe grasped the back of her head with one hand just as Georgie used both hands to cup the sides of his face. One smoldering look flashed between them, the fire in that one look threatening to burn them in the hot flames of their desire.

  “I want you, wife,” Rafe whispered, his longing for her obvious in his tone. But he made no further move, waiting for some signal from her to continue.

  “Then do something about it, pirate,” s
he whispered back in invitation.

  “With pleasure,” he growled with a wide smile. He merged his mouth with hers with a clash of teeth and tongues, their kiss ravenous with their mounting passion.

  14

  Aware that his wife was still encased in her wet nightclothes, Rafe unhurriedly divested Georgie of her water-heavy dressing gown first, all while keeping her mouth fully occupied with his. They had all night, after all, and he had promised himself to go slow for both of their sakes, lest she shy away if he tried to rush things. There was every need to savor and cherish every part of her, now that he had her within reach again. In the back of his mind, he half-feared that she would turn tail and run if given the slightest opportunity, and so, he was determined to preoccupy her with such heady pleasure.

  Georgie’s present state of mind was very much like one drugged; she was absolutely awash in the decadence of Rafe’s slow but sensual touches. When she was finally free of her heavy robe, Rafe pulled his mouth away from hers, and she almost cried at the loss. However, she noticed he was thoroughly taking in the sight of her in her very sheer, very wet nightrail, and the expression on his face was very telling of what he thought about it.

  Lust deepened the green in his eyes, she could see, and she took pride in herself for inspiring that lust in him. Since she was still hovering over him and with her knees on either side of him, she arched her back to his eye-widening delight. Raising both hands to hold up the strands of hair that fell out of the loose knot, everything Rafe liked about the picture she made was now fully on display. The pose she struck jutted her breasts forward, her pert nipples poking through the wet fabric in his direction. Playing coy, she asked, “What could you possibly be looking at?”

  “You, my darling wife,” he said. “If you could see how I see you, you’ll notice how pretty a pink your nipples are showing through this ruined nightgown of yours. Almost like ripe raspberries, ready for me to sample,” he said on a shaky exhale. As he spoke, he trailed a single finger from her collarbone, allowing it to slowly travel downward between her breasts, then sweeping lightly under the weight of one breast, then treating the other in the same fashion.

  She gasped audibly at the sudden pressure of his finger sweeping across one nipple, then again when he repeated the gesture. So much sensation bombarded her from all counts, and when he closed his mouth over one nipple, she reflexively let out a loud moan, one that spurred Rafe on to suck harder. Although she was as good as naked with her wet nightrail swathing her body, the feel of his hot mouth surrounding her breast through her clothing felt incredible.

  Georgie furiously ached, wanting Rafe to alleviate her panting need, heedless of all else. She was already straddling him, but she moved up and closer to mortar their bodies together. All she wanted, needed, was Rafe to make the ache all better, and she wrapped her arms around the tops of his shoulders as he worked at both of her breasts. With one hand snaking around the base of his skull she snatched none-too-gently at his hair to ensure he stayed right where he was.

  Groaning, Rafe let one rosy nipple go to say, “Don’t let me go, firecracker.” Puzzling at the meaning of those words, Rafe tightened his hold around Georgie, and leaning forward, rose from the tub in one fluid movement with her secured within his arms. With a grace borne from years on swaying decks, he effortlessly stepped out of the tub and made his way to the fireplace where he set Georgie on her feet.

  Letting her go only long enough to help rid her of her rapidly cooling nightgown, Georgie didn’t have long to feel a chill since Rafe had wrapped her in a warm towel. Sighing in pleasure at the warmth, Rafe proceeded to sensuously dry her off, skimming the surface of her skin slowly with long, elaborate strokes. She watched his eyes follow the motions of his own hands against her body, and it heated her inside, all the way down to her feminine core to see the look of pure awe and adoration as he worked.

  While he was busy, she watched the play of his muscles ripple below the taut, bronzed skin. Her gaze lowered further, allowing herself the moment to thoroughly appreciate the way the firelight highlighted his male beauty, creating shadows and hollows to show there wasn’t an ounce of spare flesh on him. His smoothly muscled torso flexed and twisted as he continued his way down her body with the towel, and she licked at her lips hungrily, thinking she had never before beheld such a beautiful male specimen than Rafe.

  No other Englishman could compare.

  Having been deprived for so long of the kind of adoration Rafe was now giving her, she found she was eagerly awaiting the pleasures that she knew could be found in his arms, in his bed. Once, she had believed that the desire between them was too much to handle, and she had once been afraid of its intensity. But this was Rafe; she knew him better than anyone. He was familiar to her in so many ways, and it was Rafe alone who had introduced her to her own passionate nature. She had once despaired of that side of her being locked away permanently, especially when no one else could inspire even a flicker of it out of hiding.

  Finally, Rafe threw the towel aside, bringing her attention fully to him. With him standing so still, Georgie could liberally admire everything about him that appealed to her, fierce as he was in his masculinity. Unabashed by her own nudity, Georgie let him look his fill of her own womanly attributes. By the lust-laden look in his eyes, she believed he was just as affected by her as she was of him.

  Reaching out for her hand, Rafe urged, “Come to bed with me, wife. At the moment, I’d be lucky if we make it to the bed without having you right here on the floor.” Georgie’s cheeks heated at Rafe’s admission, her imagination running wild at the images his words invoked. She pictured the both of them tumbling to the floor, with him rutting above her, in her, and the blood in her veins heated at the images in her brain.

  While she let him steer her towards the large bed, she chastised, “You’re too much, Rafe.” She wasn’t used to such ribald words, words that she had never heard uttered from any English gentleman. But of course, her Rafe would never pass for a gentleman, not when he was flashing her a wicked grin while unashamedly nude.

  “You know you like it, firecracker,” he quipped as he swung her up in his arms and tossed her onto the bed. She squealed as she bounced once, laughing at his cavalier treatment, only for her laugh to be cut off once he slid on top of her and claimed her mouth with his.

  This was what she wanted, what she had missed with Rafe—their playfulness of the past and the searing hot kisses that seemed to melt her insides. She had wondered many times if it was possible to know such feelings again but with someone who wasn’t Rafe. The problem was, no man had incited even the slightest desire within her, not even Nicholas Belhaven. She simply had no compulsion to even want to kiss another man.

  But here she was, hungrily kissing the man who was her husband and reveling in it gloriously. Tongues warred madly as their moans and harsh breathing filled Rafe’s bedchamber. Soon, Rafe rolled the both of them onto their sides, and as their mouths devoured each other, their hands busily roved over the hills and valleys of their respective bodies. Georgie explored his body, feeling how very different he was in comparison to her own body. Where she was soft, he was so hard, almost as if he was chiseled from granite, and every inch of him she felt beneath her hands felt like she was touching a warm, marble statue. His body, molded to perfection, excited her beyond reason, and she soon learned which parts gave him pleasure by the volume of his groans.

  While Rafe’s hands meandered about her own body, Georgie boldly reached for his cock, corkscrewing her hand up his shaft as she fisted him. He moaned sharply into her mouth, and she did it again.

  Releasing her mouth, Rafe groaned, “I’ve missed your touch, firecracker. Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

  Georgie grinned, pleased that she could give him such pleasure, and she pumped him slowly within her hand. Rafe paid her back in kind and tweaked one nipple hard, causing Georgie to squeal. But Rafe detached from her grip to push her onto her back before she could retaliate.

 
; Georgie squeaked, “What are you—” but was cut off once Rafe used his tongue and mouth to lave and suck on first one breast, then the other. He seemed obsessed with her breasts, given the dedication and time he took at each one.

  “I adore your breasts, Georgina,” he admitted, between placing hot, wet kisses on them.

  “You don’t think them overly large?” she asked tentatively. She was no longer the slim version of herself that he had once known and was self-conscious about the changes that the years had brought.

  “No, I think they are the most gorgeous pair of breasts I have ever seen,” he assured her as he kneaded them reverently.

  “And you’ve seen a lot of them, have you?” she quipped shortly.

  “Of course. I have sailed to distant shores where the native women wore no more than a skirt.” Georgie noted that he hadn’t mentioned the women he had dallied with before they married but she said nothing.

  The sensations his mouth incited made her forget all else as he blazed a fiery trail of heat from her breasts down to that place between her legs. Down there, she felt wet, aching, and empty, and she looked at him questioningly as his face hovered just between her thighs.