Chapter Ten

Justin slouched before the fire in his bedchamber with a brandy‑filled goblet in one hand and George’s head nuzzled in the other. He watched the blue flames in the grate and thought of Sophie, so dazzlingly beautiful in the gown he had wheedled out of the modiste. It had cost him a bloody fortune to convince the woman that the garment would receive more attention on Sophie than it would on the woman for whom it was originally made. But he would gladly pay the amount a hundred times over to have the same result.

The countess and his mother had wanted something sensational, and he would like to think he had managed to accomplish that.

The soft knock he waited for finally came. Leaping to his feet, he startled the dogs and spilled his libation as he set it hastily on a table as he rushed past. Justin threw open the door and his heart clenched.

“Sophie.”

She said nothing, but words weren’t necessary. Her dazzling smile was enough. He looked quickly to the left and right, to be certain she was not seen, then he caught her hand and pulled her into his bedchamber.

He locked the door and shooed the dogs into the sitting room. When he turned back, he found her waiting where he had left her. With great, joyful strides Justin caught her up and lifted her high. She set her hands on his shoulders and threw her head back, laughing as he spun them about.

“I began to despair,” he said, setting her on her feet so that he could pull her into his embrace. “I thought perhaps I would not see you until morning, a delay I would find unbearable.”

Sophie’s eyes gazed luminously up into his. “As if I could stay away,” she whispered. “I was near desperate to be alone with you all evening.”

“Well then, I forgive you for making me wait,” he said magnanimously, making her smile.

“I love you, you arrogant man.” Cupping his nape, she pulled his head down to steal a kiss.

For a moment, he allowed her the lead, then the scent of her skin and the feel of her body inflamed him. Her soft mouth was parted and moving feverishly against his.

Breathing hard, he somehow managed to wrench his head away. “Will you consent to marry me now?”

“How can you ask questions at a time such as this?” she complained. “We have been apart for weeks on end.”

“I’ve learned extortion has its uses. My title, which usually lures women in droves, is a deterrent to you. But you seem to enjoy my body well enough. If I have to withhold it from you to gain your acceptance, I will do it. Much as it will pain me.”

The soft glaze of lust in her eyes turned to rich amusement. “I still cannot collect how you extorted that performance out of Rothschild this evening.”

He grinned. “What do you think of that?”

“I think my influence is already corrupting you.” She cupped his cheek in the palm of her hand. “Was he telling the truth?”

“About the value of the antiquities bequeathed to you? Yes. Rothschild has been using them to guarantee his markers, which are not inconsiderable.”

“All that excitement displayed over that little statue…Incredible!”

“Quite. Adventurers such as Belzoni have fueled the great interest in such things, fortunately for us. Your collection, while small, is priceless.” It took some clever maneuvering on his mother’s part to lure both lauded experts in the field and members of the peerage who were avidly engaged in the topic to his estate in Northamptonshire on such short notice. But somehow the task was managed, resulting in a dinner party that would not be forgotten for some time. “You are now an eccentric collector of some means, which grants you a bit more license.”

“And my once barren social calendar has become filled with numerous invitations to display the rest of my private collection.”

“Once word spreads, you will scarcely be able to keep up. As long as those items can be seen only through you and not a museum, you shall be in some demand.”

She shook her head. “How did you learn of Rothschild’s deception?”

“I have my ways.”

“My darling.” Sophie lifted to her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his chin. “How will I ever do you justice?”

“Never mind that nonsense. Simply say yes.” He rocked his hips suggestively against her. “I have something you want and I am quite desperate to give it to you.”

Her laughter was music to his ears. “Yes, you wicked man. Yes!”

Sophie rubbed her breasts into his chest, brushing his lapels open so that only the material of her bodice and chemise separated her nipples from his skin. The brazen advance undid him, bringing to life fantasies he had cherished in his youth and again as a man. She gazed up at him seductively beneath long, thick lashes. “Now, will you take me to your bed?”

He growled and lifted her, taking the few steps necessary to reach the nearest wall so he could pin her roughly against it. She gasped softly at the impact, her arms at her sides, her hands pressed palms down against the damask.

“The bed is too far away,” he said gruffly, shrugging out of his robe.

“Dear God,” she breathed when he stood naked before her.

He stroked himself, lengthening and thickening his cock, watching her pupils dilate with a similar desire to the one that raged within him.

Impassioned, he caged her between his arms, his mouth at her throat, his teeth nipping the sensitive skin. “Pull up your gown.”

He felt her swallow hard beneath his lips. “Here?”

“Yes, here. I want to lick you, Sophie love,” he purred, his hands moving all over her, rediscovering all the curves and valleys of her body. “I want to put my mouth on you, eat at you, kiss you between your legs‑” he took her mouth with lush, deep flicks of his tongue‑“just like this.”

“Yes.” Her head fell to the side, baring her throat to him. He felt her hands between them, pulling up her skirts. Her movements brushed against his cock, and his jaw tensed. His gut cramped tight, lust warring with deeper, more powerful emotions.

He reached down and cupped her, parted her, finding her cunt slick and hot and soft as satin. He tested her with a gently probing finger, the feel of her grasping tissues pushing him beyond any hope of restraint.

“Bloody hell.” Sinking to his knees, he lunged for the pulsing flesh between her legs and covered it with his open mouth.

Sophie jerked violently at the shocking sensation of a lover’s kiss in her most intimate place. Her senses were overwhelmed with the sight and smell of him, her heart racing at the boldness of his actions. The growling sounds he made as his tongue flickered desperately over the clenching opening of her sex made her knees weak. He held her upright and draped her leg over his shoulder, giving her the support she needed to bear the exquisite torment while opening her further to his relentless demands.

Her fingers dug into the wall. The sounds of the ticking clock and her labored exhales were muted by the blood roaring in her ears. She looked down, watching the way the fire reflected in the golden strands of Justin’s hair. He held her open with his fingers, nuzzling his parted lips against her, worshiping her with reverent kisses. The sight of her gown held to her waist and the beautifully built man on his knees before her was deeply, searingly erotic.

“I need you.” Her eyes slid closed and her hot cheek pressed against the cool damask. “Please…”

Justin tilted his head and pushed his tongue deep, the slight roughness of early stubble on his chin rasping against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She keened softly at the shallow, teasing plunges, nowhere near satisfying, but wonderful nevertheless. In and out. Piercing her hard and fast. He ate at her with near ravenous hunger, groaning in a way that made her cup her breasts and squeeze, fighting the aching swelling.

“Please,” she begged, twisting and arching, rocking into his mouth. “Please…”

He altered position, moving higher, his agile tongue fluttering rapidly over the tight bundle of nerves that begged for his attention.

The surge of release hit her hard.

She cried out and clung to his perspiration‑slick shoulders as the climax stole her wits. He continued to torment her, to lick her on the outside and the inside, pushing her to orgasm again. This time she could only whimper as her sex spasmed madly.

“Beautiful,” he praised, his voice husky and low. “I believe I shall do that every day.”

Flushed and panting for air, Sophie was still quivering violently when Fontaine pushed to his feet and carried her to the bed.

Laying her on her side, he exposed the back of her gown and began to free the long row of buttons. The task was a lengthy one, giving her the time she needed to return to herself. When she was finally nude and he was levering over her, she was ready, her arms and legs opening wide in welcome. His lean hips settled against her, and his arms‑so strong and warm‑embraced her in a cocoon of bergamot and tobacco‑scented male that she never wanted to leave.

How quickly her need had reached this level. And yet she did not doubt her feelings. Or his. They were simply there, inside her, feelings of connection that had made separation a misery. Talking with him and being with him were gifts she had always enjoyed. Now lusting for him was a state she had come to crave in her life. Waking in the morning and knowing that the new day would have him in it brought her a kind of joy she had thought never to feel again. It was not the same sensation as she had felt for Langley, but it was every bit as wonderful. She knew Justin so well, and more important, he knew her so well. Better than anyone, she thought. And he loved her in spite of her faults, or maybe even because of them.

“Share your thoughts,” he murmured, as the broad head of his cock lodged at the entrance to her body.

She set her hands on his shoulders. “I want to make love to you in the sunshine so I can see every inch of you without shadow. I so love to look at you when you are inside me.”

The smile he gave her was warm and wicked. It made her breath catch and her heart leap. “Ah, love. Promise me you will always be wild.”

“Because of you,” she breathed. “You make it safe for me to take risks. You always have.”

He pushed the first thick inches of his beautiful cock into her and she gasped, her back arching upward as her body attempted to contain such pleasure.

“Sophie…” A violent shudder coursed the length of his frame.

She panted, writhing beneath him. “Th‑that feels delicious.”

It was more than Justin could take, that throaty praise. He held her hips down, and plunged deep.

Sophie’s broken cry as he hilted had him groaning in near pain. She was tight as a fist around him, and swollen from his previous ministrations.

“Hold still,” he ordered hoarsely, sucking in air like a man too long under water. Her cunt was rippling along his cock, sucking him deeper, luring him to forgo courtesy and fuck her until neither of them had the energy required to go on.

“I can’t bear it,” she sobbed, scratching him, struggling in her impatience, urging him to ride her to the finish.

Christ, but he loved it. Loved her. Had always loved her. He relished having her, owning her, and the way everything in his world had altered irrevocably because of her. His future, so orderly and well planned just weeks ago, was now an adventure waiting to happen.

His thighs flexed against hers as he kept her pinned, and fucked her slow and deep. Rolling his hips. Making her beg more, because it drove his lust higher to hear how desperately she craved his body inside hers.

“Justin,” she moaned, arching her breasts upward to press against his chest, their skin sticking together with the sweat of their exertions. His head lowered, his lips fastening on a tightened nipple, his cheeks hallowing as he drew on her in long pulls that mimicked the stroking of his cock inside her.

He rode her at length, thrusting between her spread thighs in a lazy, sensual rhythm, feeling her climax again. And again. Such a passionate woman. Her body quaking beneath his, stirring his ardor further until the sheets were fisted in his white‑knuckled grip and he was driving powerfully into her. The tension coiled in his shoulders, slid down his spine, and gathered at the base of his aching cock. He was so hard, so ferociously aroused, he almost feared the impending orgasm.

When it came, it tore guttural cries from his throat. Killing him. He shuddered violently and she clung to him, his darling Sophie. She whispered to him, anchored him, so that the violent spewing of his seed inside her was not the loss of his soul, but the merging of hers to his.

He pumped hard and fast into her, taking her over the edge with him.

Fitted to him, the other half of a whole.

With her cheek on Fontaine’s chest and her legs intertwined with his, Sophie spoke of her son. Countless moments of joy and discovery.

He listened quietly, his hands stroking down the length of her spine. “I wish I could alleviate your concerns.”

“You will,” she said, her mouth curving against his skin. “I adore you. I fail to see how anyone could not.”

She felt his cock twitch against her thigh and raised her head to meet his gaze. Sprawled against a pile of pillows and lying amid monogrammed white sheets, the marquess was unbearably handsome. He looked disheveled and thoroughly sated, an appearance that flattered him so well she found her passions rising along with his. His big, hard body was a finely wrought instrument of pleasure, and the golden skin that covered the lean lengths of muscle was so sensitive to her attentions. She could make him groan with the slightest of touches. “Will I always be able to rouse you with a compliment?”

“You rouse me by breathing, love.” He winked and scratched at the center of his chest. “And I adore you, too.”

Sophie stared at him a moment, comparing the warm man whose bed she shared with the cooler, more reserved boy she remembered.

“We should depart as soon as possible,” he said. “I would like to meet your son.”

“How soon?”

“As soon as we can urge our guests to depart.”

She kissed his jaw in silent gratitude. “Good. I miss him.”

“I know.” He hugged her tightly. “You will be together again as quickly as I can manage it.”

She heard the faintest trace of worry in his tone, and understood how hard this must be for him. How would she feel, were he to have a child to win over? Knowing how deep the bond between parent and child was, and wondering if she would ever be even a small part of that connection, or if she would forever be an unwanted intrusion. It made her love him all the more that he was willing to make so many changes to his life and take so many risks just to be with her.

Pinching the sheet with two fingers, Sophie tugged it downward until the edge reached his upper thighs and his cock was bared to her gaze. A quick glance upward found him watching her with eyes that glittered in the near darkness.

“I want to kiss you here,” she said, circling his cock with gentle fingers. “Such as you did to me.”

“Feel free.” A hint of laughter had replaced the apprehension in his voice.

The sound made her smile.

“I’ve come to be wary when you wear that mischievous look,” he said.

Sophie fluttered her lashes innocently. “Mischief? Me?”

“Ha!”

She crawled over him and settled between his spread legs. The pattern of his breathing changed, became faster as the muscles in his thighs tensed. Her breasts brushed against his skin and his breath hissed out between his teeth. The power she held to give him pleasure was heady, as was the sight of his body, which aroused her to a fever pitch. Her hand closed around him and angled his throbbing cock to meet her eager mouth.

“Christ!” Justin arched off the bed as Sophie’s soft, wet lips surrounded him.

He had been serviced this way countless times, yet it had never felt like this. He was ready to blow. After his recent galvanic orgasm, he should be able to enjoy a lazy climb to the peak. Instead, he was gritting his teeth to prevent toppling over.

“Umm…” she purred, lifting her head. “I like this. I believe I shall do this every day.”

He choked. The sight of her mouth poised just above his cock was a fantasy he had cherished for years. To think of such pleasure daily…“You’ll kill me.”

“You’ll bear it.” Sophie pumped her hand and his hips jerked.

“Bloody hell!”

Cum beaded the tip of his cock. He watched in an agony of lust as her tongue came out and licked up the drop. The sound she made, one of deep pleasure, made his balls draw up.

“Suck it,” he groaned, reaching for her, cupping her cheeks so that he could feel her mouth open. He felt his hardness through the softness of her cheek, and gasped as her tongue lifted and stroked the sensitive underside of his shaft.

The next he knew he was writhing atop the linens, his jaw aching with the force with which he clenched it, his arms tense and fingers cramped as he forced himself to hold her gently.

Sweet Sophie was driving him insane, her hungry mouth sucking and sucking, her cheeks hollowing with every drawing pull, her head bobbing in a wild, unrestrained rhythm as if loving him this way was for her pleasure alone.

Dear God, he was going to die. He was muttering and cursing and begging, wanting her to stop. Wanting her never to stop.

Her gentle fingers cupped his tight sac and squeezed gently, rolling his balls, heating them with the warmth of her palm. His eyes widened with the knowledge that he was about to come, his throat working to warn her, but no sound came out.

With the last of his strength he pushed her away. Her response was a growl and hard, deep suction.

He came like a geyser, groaning, blasting deep into the welcoming depths of her mouth. Her hand urgently stroked the length of him that would not fit inside her, pumping his cum up the shaft to spill over her working tongue. She wouldn’t stop, the demented female, taking to him to heights of pleasure he’d never reached, then carrying him back down with long, savoring licks.

The mattress cradled him as he sank into it, devastated. Then it was Sophie who cradled him, her lush body coming to rest over his, her cheek settling over his madly beating heart.

“I love you,” he whispered, his damp face nestled in her fragrant hair, his arms hugging her close. “Christ, I love you so much.”

He felt her press a kiss into his chest. He gazed up at the canopy above them and basked in his contentment. The days ahead would bring challenges, but if the nights ended thusly, he would bear them all with nary a complaint.

“I will make you happy,” he promised. “I will do my best to make Thomas happy.”

“I know, my love,” she crooned.

“But,” his tone was a warning, “if you ever blow pepper up my nose again, I will take my hand to your arse.”

“Perhaps I shall like that,” she teased mischievously.

His cock twitched wearily, insanely interested despite being spent. “Bloody hell.”

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 546