M Is for Marquess (12 page)

“Beautiful.” His voice had a ragged edge. “You set me afire.”

“You make me feel all awash,” she confessed, reaching to touch his jaw.

He caught her hand. Placed it above her head, wrapping her fingers around something smooth, made of leather… the passenger strap? Turning her head on the cushion, she saw that he’d indeed made her grasp the black loop attached to the wall beneath the window.

“Both hands, love.” He took her other hand and placed it on the strap as well. “I want you to hold on and not let go until I tell you to.”

“But… why?”

“Because it is my wish.” His hands were a cogent argument, coasting along her spine and unfastening, loosening her very moors. “Because I need to know that you trust me.”

She wanted to ask what he meant by the latter, but the question dissolved as his lips traced the curve of her shoulder. Her mind turned hazy as he nuzzled the hollow at the base of her throat.
If this is what he wants,
she thought languidly,
I suppose I’ll just have to suffer…

His kisses roved lower and lower, and she felt a tug on her bodice, exposing her bosom to a man’s eyes for the first time. Hunger was a silver flame in his eyes, and it burned away her modesty and shyness. Time later for maidenly concerns and rational thought.

In this moment, all she wanted was him.

“By God, you are lovely beyond words.” Reverence hummed in his voice.

His thumb circled one nipple, teasing it to an even fuller peak, and her breath hitched.
Keep breathing,
she reminded herself.
You don’t want to miss this.
Somehow, she managed to draw air steadily into her lungs.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
Her confidence grew as Tremont touched her, telling her how exquisite, how perfectly made he found her.

“Ready for more?” he rasped.

For everything.
“Yes. Oh, yes.”

“Then hold on tight to the strap, sweeting. Don’t let go.”

He bent his head, and she gasped, the leather going taut in her hands. The things he was doing with his tongue, his lips… When he licked one of her nipples, then blew softly on it, she felt a quivering tug deep in her center. He drew her into his mouth and suckled, and the sensation spread into her lower belly. Heat liquefied between her legs.

“So sweet and responsive.” His breath brushed warmly against the damp tip, making her shiver. “Do you like this, Thea? Like me petting and kissing you… like this?”

His tongue swirled, and she moaned in answer.

“Do you want more?”

Did she
ever
. “I want to experience everything. With you.”

He exhaled harshly, and then he was kissing her again. A steamy sharing of lips, tongues, and breaths. Her skirts rustled, his touch gliding up her silk stockings, tracing the skin beneath the garter. When his hand clamped over her bare thigh, a breath whooshed from her.

“All right, princess?” he murmured.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

His hand wandered higher. “You like me touching you here… and here?”

Words jammed in her throat for he’d reached the apex of her thighs. He parted her gently, and her cheeks flamed as she realized how damp she’d become. Goodness, was that
normal
?

“You’re so soft, wet. Like a flower after the rain.” His voice was low and reverent. “You are nature’s perfection.”

Well, then.
Reassured by the heated approval in his eyes, she relaxed and let the wondrous sensations wash over her. At the same time, a strange pressure burgeoned in her belly. A tautness that seemed twined with the pleasure, that matched it beat for beat. Her pulse quickened as if she were in a race… for what?

“Tremont,” she said, squirming.

“Gabriel,” he said. “I want to hear you say it.”

He touched a place that wrung his name from her lips, her hips bucking off the cushions.

“And here,” he said huskily, “is the prettiest bud in your garden.”

Incoherent sounds left her as he continued to play with that aching peak, circling, stroking, building the tension inside her. She twisted restlessly against the squabs, brimful of sensation yet oddly empty at the same time. She needed something… more. Something she didn’t have words for.

“Gabriel,
please
.” She didn’t even know what she was begging for.

His eyes were dark with triumph. His lips closed over hers, the kiss rougher, more forceful than before. She reveled in his possession. Suddenly, she felt a stretching sensation, and then he was touching her…
inside
. Her breath held, her muscles clenching on unfamiliar fullness.

“Goddamn, you’re small. Gripping me so tightly.” His chest surged. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.” It wasn’t painful exactly. “It feels… strange.”

“Strange in a bad way?”

“Strange in a strange way. Do it again.”

“Like this?”

This time, the exquisite, filling friction made her back arch. “Yes,” she sighed.

He groaned her name, and his touch changed. His fingers took on a rough, driving rhythm, the lunging cadence shoving the breath from her lungs. It was so
good
. When his palm met her swollen flesh in a light slap, she whimpered with pleasure. He did it again and again and again. Her head tossed against velvet as the crescendo in her soared…

“Pull on the strap,” he ordered. “Pull hard for me.”

She clutched the leather and yanked. Every part of her tautened, and his fingers thrust deep, a transcendent surge that made stars blur before her eyes. Her hips arched as he filled her completely, his palm grinding wetly against her sensitive bud.

“Come for me now, Thea,” he rasped.

She cried out as she hurtled over the finish line. Voluptuous spasms rippled through her, one after another, strong and unbearably sweet. The tides of bliss rocked her, cleaved her from her old self, and left her shivering with the new discovery.

When she regained her senses, she gazed up at Tremont. For once his expression was unguarded. In his gleaming gaze, she saw her own awe reflected. And the glimmer of something else, too, that might have been… hope.

Chapter Twelve

Gabriel awoke fully alert, a habit from his espionage days. Being groggy could get you killed, and that was no way to start the morning. Lying in the guest bedchamber, the dawn’s light seeping in through a crack in the velvet drapes, he was acutely aware of two facts.

First, he’d brought Thea to climax in the carriage last night, and it had been the hottest, most seductive experience of his life. Her passion had rocked him to the core. She hadn’t been afraid or repulsed by his lovemaking. She was a lady, an innocent, yet she’d wanted him—hell, she’d
begged
him to give her release. The wanton beauty of her orgasm had stunned him; if they hadn’t arrived back at the Strathaven residence, he’d have dearly loved to give her another.

He stared up at the plaster cherubs frolicking along the edge of the ceiling, his heart thudding. Possibility flared inside him. Could she accept his carnal desires?

I want to experience it all with you.

True, her words had been that of an innocent: she had no idea what “all” with him would entail. Yet her openness roused his deepest fantasy, one he’d long ago forsaken. Wanting something that didn’t exist was futile, but his old, dangerous desire took root nonetheless: what would it be like to possess a lady entirely? To have her surrender to him, to give him all of her trust, to belong to him and only him?

The prospect fluttered at the edges of his consciousness, as tantalizing as a dream. A hidden floodgate opened inside him, releasing so many needs, of such intensity, that he couldn’t register them all. Raw wanting raged through him.

His pulse hammering, he reached below the sheet. He stifled a groan as his hand closed around the stiff, aching ridge of his cock. During the years of his marriage, he’d gotten accustomed to self-pleasure. For better or worse, frigging had become a necessary habit.

But he didn’t want to think about the past. He wanted to focus on the future, the fantasy awakening inside him. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to imagine all the things he wanted to do with Thea. The wicked pleasures he wanted to introduce her to, the limits of her passion he wanted to test… and control.

In his mind, he returned to the darkness of the carriage, to her lovely nude body spread for him on the velvet cushions. This time he saw her hands bound by the passenger strap, her wrists secured by black leather as he fingered her. His breath quickening, he fisted his erection, mimicking the tight, shy clasp of her pussy, the way it had milked him so lushly. By God, she’d been magnificent in her throes. He pictured himself clamping his hands on her downy thighs, spreading them wide as her climax trembled through her.

Lowering his head, he put his mouth on her. Her essence flooded his senses like ambrosia, and he hungrily feasted. To the music of her pleading whimpers, he licked her creamy slit, delving deep, groaning as her fluttering muscles pulled him in deeper. He fucked her with his tongue, and she let him have her this way—in any way he pleased. His cock spurted; he fisted himself harder as he licked upward to her pearl, flicking it.

When he suckled the proud little bud, she cried out again, her thighs tautening around his head. Her crisis set fire to his blood, and the next instant, he mounted her, notching his prick to her wet gash. He drove forward, pleasure rippling down his spine as her passage received him. Her eyes held him as wholly as her untried flesh, hazel pools glimmering with trust. With pure surrender.

Undone by her, he let the animal in him go free. He rammed into the heart of her, into her wet, giving welcome. Her moans accompanied the ferocious smack of his bollocks against her dewy petals. She took him to the balls, and it still wasn’t enough, he needed to be deeper yet. Hoisting her ankles over his shoulders, he slammed his hips home. Again and again and again.

Straining against her bonds, she arched to take everything he had to give her. Her breasts bounced with his thrusts, the coral tips erect and proud. She cried out as her sheath began to convulse around his invading shaft. He drove himself home, hitting the end of her with a groan. Her lushness milked him, and his stones burgeoned, his seed climbing. Plunging into her cream-filled cunny one last time, he exploded in a haze of bliss.

Panting, Gabriel lay against the pillows, the bedclothes damp, his heart drumming. As he slowly came down from the release, he felt calmer, his head clearing. The desire between him and Thea last night had been real. True, he hadn’t exposed the depth of his proclivities, the extent of his need for sexual domination, but her response thus far had been promising. Was it possible that she could accept him sexually?

Anticipation wound inside him. His sense of honor dictated that he make her a proposal, but he wouldn’t go into it blind like the last time. That route led only to misery for both parties. This time, he would learn from his mistakes. He would tell Thea his expectations in full, outline the kind of marriage he had to offer.

Perhaps she wouldn’t fall into a dead faint or run screaming from the room. A man could dream. And perhaps, just perhaps, she would want to take him on.

He released a breath. Before he took things any further with her, he had to put his past to rest. He wouldn’t let the threat of the Spectre touch her. Six days from now, he’d ambush the villain and Pompeia at their meeting in Covent Garden. He’d put an end to that dirty business and secure the safety of those he cared about. Then, and only then, could he get on with his future.

Hope flickered, illuminating a future that might include Thea.

***

The skirts of Thea’s sprigged muslin swished as she hurried down the steps. It wasn’t ladylike to rush, yet she couldn’t help herself. She’d slept in far later than usual; if her maid hadn’t come in with a breakfast tray, she might have slept until noon. As it was, she couldn’t wait to see Gabriel. Her pulse beat a rapid tattoo at the memory of all they’d shared last night.

He wanted her. He thought she was
perfection
.

He
was the perfect one, she thought dreamily. Warmth coalesced low in her belly, her intimate muscles fluttering. In his arms, she’d finally experienced the all-consuming passion she’d yearned for. He’d treated her like a flesh and blood woman, and she’d reveled in his deliciously masterful lovemaking.

On the ground floor, she followed the hum of conversation past the library to the billiards room. From the doorway, she saw Emma and Strathaven. At the opposite end of the room, they were bickering over where to hang a circular board that resembled an archery target. A new diversion, Thea thought, hiding a smile. Her sister and brother-in-law did enjoy their games.

Then her gaze shifted, and she saw Gabriel and Freddy sitting in a pair of club chairs. The latter’s cowlick had been combed into place, and he was a darling, somber miniature of his papa. The two had the same upright posture; neither of them was talking. She wondered, not for the first time, why there should be distance between father and son. They clearly loved one another. Perhaps what they needed was a nudge to close the gap.

Gabriel looked up as she entered, and the look in his eyes set butterflies swarming in her belly. Gone was the habitual shield of coolness; his gaze was warm and soft as smoke. He rose to meet her, and a thrum of possessive pleasure passed through her. Handsome and virile, he was majestic in a dark green jacket which emphasized his broad shoulders and lean torso. His trousers fit like a second skin over his muscular thighs, tucking into polished Hessians.

“You’re up late this morning, Miss Kent. I hope last night’s activities didn’t overtire you?” His tone was polite; his eyes had a sensual gleam.

Blushing, she said, “I just needed a little extra rest is all. Did you, um, sleep well?”

“Never better.” His mouth crooked up in a rare smile.

Her heart melting, she waved to Freddy. “Hello, dear. It’s lovely to see you up and about.”

“Dr. Abernathy said a change of scenery would do me good,” the boy answered with a shy smile. “And I’m feeling ever so much better today.”