“Others perhaps. Not you.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Don’t be so serious, Clara mine, or I’ll have to take your frown away the only way I know how.”
He took her breath. His finger slid inside her slowly, and despite the sore tenderness of her flesh, a flare of desire sparked to life. She wanted him too, but his potent skills of seduction wouldn’t dissuade her from her cause. He seemed as determined to dismiss her admission as he was to lure her back into another round of lovemaking. Why? Surely there was a reason for his calculated avoidance.
A thought occurred to her then. “Has no woman ever cared for you before?”
He paused, an indecipherable expression flashing across his face. Beneath her palms, his jaw hardened and clenched before releasing. “Clara.” His tone was a warning. Stern. Fierce.
Could it be that no one—none of his purported legion of lovers—had ever shown him tenderness? Had they all treated him as a commodity they’d bought to amuse their selfish whims? She had to know. “Julian, tell me. I’m your wife. I deserve an answer.”
He withdrew from her and returned to the nub hidden within her folds, the one that seemed to jolt live electricity through her body whenever he touched her there. Now was no different. She jerked against him, unable to help herself.
“Here is your answer.” He increased his pressure and his pace. Pleasure rippled through her entire being along with need. She grew closer to the precipice of her control, her body a tightly coiled spring ready for release. “This is what I’m worth. You bought me with your dowry. Use me however you like. Fuck me, if you like. Let me fuck you.”
His vulgar words touched some wicked part of her she hadn’t known existed, sending a new rush of moisture between her thighs. Faster and faster his fingers moved over her, knowing somehow precisely where and how she longed to be touched, even before she did. He took her mouth and this time, the kiss was hard and uncompromising. This kiss plundered. It was as if the gentleness he’d shown her had been stripped from him. She had pushed him too far, and now he returned the favor, edging her ever nearer to the shattering bliss she knew he could bring her.
“Anything you want, little dove. Anything you want. Take it.” He nipped her lip. His mouth moved hungrily over her jaw next, then to her throat. He nibbled there, all the while circling the center of her pleasure, giving her just what she wanted. What she needed. He bit her earlobe, licked the hollow beneath it. Her quim ached. Her body trembled. All the while, she refused to release him, holding him as if she could forever anchor him to her this way.
She meant to utter a protest. A staying sentence. Something intelligible. But all she managed was a moan. The hazy fog of desire suffused her mind. She could scarcely think. Damn it, he was besting her at her game of wills, and she was helpless to stop him.
“Take it,” he urged hotly into her ear. “Spend for me, love.”
She climaxed almost violently, arching into his hand, crying out her pleasure. Her hands fell from his face at last, moving to his bare shoulders, so strong and sleek beneath her touch, clutching him to her. She wished she could absorb him into her, take him so completely inside that he could never leave. A choked groan left her against her will. Clara gave in to the delicious ricochet of gratification, of abandon, and for a moment she forgot what she’d meant to do. What she’d meant to make him admit.
He rose above her, his glorious body naked and aroused, and held his cock in his closed fist, stroking up and down the hard shaft. She watched, sure her cheeks flushed scarlet with embarrassment, unable to look away. Surely he didn’t intend to…mercy, he jerked his hand over himself, meeting her gaze without an inkling of shame.
“You’re sore,” he bit out. “I’ll not take you again this night. Tomorrow, I’ll fuck you, Clara. I’ll fuck you again and again.” His hand moved faster, mimicking the actions of lovemaking.
Her fascinated gaze traveled over him, taking note of every detail, from the beautiful strain of his muscled body to the strong trunks of his thighs to the very part of him that called her attention the most. A bead of moisture seeped from the head of his cock, and she licked her lips, wondering what it would be like to run her tongue over the small indentation, to taste him as he had her.
“Fuck. When you look at me like that, I want to stick my cock in your pretty little mouth.” The shocking admission seemed torn from him.
Shocking but also arousing, for Clara couldn’t help but imagine him doing so. Would she like such a depraved act? Yes, her throbbing body told her, she would. And then, as she watched, his body stiffened and he cried out, his seed spurting from him and landing across her belly.
“Anything you want, little dove,” he repeated, his voice hoarse and breathless. “But goddamn you, don’t mistake this for caring.Thisis fucking, and that is all I have to offer you.”
Before she could answer him, a discreet tap sounded at the door.
“Damn it to hell,” he cursed, hauling himself away from her and going in search of his dressing gown. “I warned them all that anyone who dares to interrupt me on this day will be sacked.”
His anger was like a pail of cold water being tossed upon her scorching flesh. Was he angry more at her or at himself? That was the question, though she found precious little comfort in it. A shiver went through her, leaving her covered in gooseflesh. She snatched up the bedclothes as her shield, watching him wordlessly as he donned his robe. His seed remained upon her belly, slick and warm, a reminder that she was his but that he was not yet hers. If ever he would be. No woman before her had ever shown him kindness. Of that she was now certain. And the realization produced a dreadful combination of anger and sickness.
The Marchioness of Thornton’s words about Ravenscroft on her wedding day returned to her mind. They’d been spoken not so very long ago, but for all that had come to pass they may have been a lifetime ago.He has a good heart.A good heart did indeed beat within him. But she would allow him this retreat, for their lives had been vastly different before they’d met and hers, while far from perfect, had certainly left her with fewer scars.
“Cover yourself, madam,” he ordered her, his tone cool. He’d gone to the door, his back to her, his form still and stiff as the formality of his words.
Yes, he had withdrawn from her entirely now. Although perhaps some of his reserve was due to the presence of the servant on the other side of the door. She made certain her modesty was firmly intact. “I have, my lord.”
He opened the door just a crack. “This had bloody well better be important, Osgood. Something along the lines of the goddamn house about to burn to the ground, or an invading army here to storm the front door.”
Clara strained to hear the butler’s response.
“My lord, it grieves me to interrupt you and for that I heartily do apologize. But, we’ve a situation. I’m afraid it’s her ladyship’s father. He has arrived and he refuses to leave until he’s had an audience with you.”
Her father was here. It had been days since she’d last seen him, and she realized for the first time just how much she’d missed him. Why, she’d even missed Lady Bella and she’d certainly missed her sweet little sister, Virginia. How had she ever thought she could leave any of them? They’d become as much a part of the fabric of her life as anyone she’d ever known. Just as Julian had. The unwanted thought gave her pause.
“Damn it to hell. Thank you, Osgood. I’ll see him in my study. That will be all.” And with that, her husband slammed the door in his butler’s face.
He turned back to her, his countenance even stormier than it had been before.
