Chapter Fifteen #3
Judith eased her hands away from his face, studying him.
Mark waited, somber. Making up her mind, she slid her arms around his body, pressing her cheek to his chest, holding him tightly.
She could hear his heartbeat, rapid but steady, and felt his breathing, also rapid but not so steady.
“I will not put that worry on you,” she whispered.
“As much as I want you”—she tilted her head to look up into his face—“as much as I want to feel you inside me, we can wait until you have that cleared from your mind.” She released him. “But I do have one favor to ask.”
“Anything.”
“May I stay the night?”
*
Mark felt every inch of his body go still.
The woman in his arms—so beautiful and tempting, so clever and willing—had eased behind every guard he had ever raised.
Since he had returned from the battlefield, he had held every person, even his mother and brothers, at a carefully curated distance, mostly through humor but also physical distance and a reluctance to engage in more than casual conversation.
But his desire, his admiration for Judith had made him careless.
Judith, shrewd as always, sensed his hesitation, his tension. “You would rather I not?” The confusion in her voice speared him. “But I thought . . . it would add to the perception that we—”
Mark tightened his arms around her. “No. I would very much—” He shook his head. “I do not sleep much.”
“So I have heard. Is it the war?”
He stared down at her. “What did you say?”
Judith eased out of his arms and took his hand, urging him toward the wingback.
He sat, and she settled down on the ottoman.
“Remember? I also asked this at Adelaide’s, to which you took great offense.
But it is no secret that men who have returned from the continent .
. . many have been changed, even those who were not wounded physically.
As I have said, rumors about you have swirled since you and your brother came home.
Of course, most of those had to do with him becoming duke, his sullen nature.
But you were a favorite of the women of the ton, especially the young widows, and greatly missed.
They were eager for your return.” Her face suddenly flushed crimson.
“They were rather free with tales of your . . . um . . . prowess.”
Mark grinned. “Is that why you want—”
She gripped his arm, and her strength startled him.
He looked down at her hand as she spoke.
“No.” Her hold lessened. “Not . . . precisely.” She released him and leaned back.
“I married a few weeks into my first season, as much out of necessity as interest.” She sighed.
“I immediately fell into the marriage, helping with Edmund and Daniel, and within a short time, running the household as duchess. I had no plethora of suitors, no flirtatious dances, not even a visit to Almack’s.
After my marriage, I no longer attended many balls or Society events, as so little time and energy remained for those things.
And I missed them terribly. Or I thought I did.
So when Edmund died, I sought out all the young men, all the balls and soirees. All the fun I believe I had missed.”
Mark listened as he had to other young widows in the past. He had heard something similar so many times, reminding him that the lives of the ton’s women were far from their own choosing.
Most—even his own mother—adopted an attitude of acceptance and forbearance.
It simply was the way the world was, and the best path meant coping with whatever hand had been dealt.
But a few sought something outside their confining lives. And Mark had gladly helped them in the past. “But it was not what you remembered.”
Judith smiled, but it was a sad expression. “No. I had forgotten that, like so many young women of Society, young men can be . . . empty-headed. My world had changed dramatically. Theirs had not. Even though I had no desire to marry, I found myself craving something more substantial.”
Mark smirked. “You consider me substantial?”
She scooted forward on the ottoman, and he gasped as her knees forced his apart. She rubbed her palms firmly up and down his thighs. “I consider you enticing.”
Loins tightening, Mark closed his hands around her forearms. “Judith—”
“Shh. You want to know what else I learned from my husband, the former soldier?”
Mark did not trust himself to speak.
She bent, kissing the inside of his thigh. “That there are many ways to please a man besides having him between your legs.”
He tried to breathe. “You cannot use your mouth on—”
“Shh. I know.” Her hands on his legs became firmer, the fingertips digging in, massaging the muscles with short strokes. “Scoot down a bit.”
Every muscle, every nerve tensed as he pushed his rear forward, watching as she lowered her head and pressed her face on the fall of his trousers.
His cock stiffened, pushing against the cloth as the heat of her penetrated the fabric.
Her hands moved upward, slipping beneath his shirt, and the feel of her skin against his sent a spike of arousal down across his stomach and loins.
His back arched as the pressure of her face against him grew firmer, warmer, and he groaned from the pure pleasure of the sensations flowing through him.
Judith eased away from him, tugging at his arms. “Take your shirt off.”
A split second later, the linen tumbled to the floor, and she grinned, her hands scrolling firm circles on his chest, spirals around his nipples, and long traces with her fingernails down his stomach, pausing only as she began to release the buttons on the fall of his trousers, peeling it back and pushing down his small clothes.
His cock slipped free, and she gave a low moan, her eyes shining. “No wonder you have pleased so many.”
Mark reached out to stroke her face, bending forward to kiss her.
From any other woman, the compliment would have sounded vulgar to his ears.
From her, it sounded like the admiration of a beloved partner.
He slid his hands into her hair, cupping her head as he deepened the kiss, exploring her lips and tongue with slow, gentle caresses.
She responded in kind, her hands stroking his stomach and thighs even as she plundered his mouth with her tongue, sucking on his lower lip.
As the kiss broke, Mark pulled combs and pins from her hair, dropping them on top of his shirt as her chestnut tresses fell free, framing her face and breasts with their curls.
Judith took his hands, kissing the palms, then pressed them down on the arms of the chair.
“Leave them here. Do not let go.” Then she raked her hands through her hair, parting it at the back of her skull and bringing the long strands forward.
She entwined her fingers in them, then leaned forward, cupping his cock between her palms and twirling her hair around it.
The effect was immediate; the combination of strength and silken hair rubbing against him sent deep waves of arousal through Mark.
His hands clenched the arms of the chair, fingers digging in, as he fought the urge to pull her to him.
He bucked his hips up, his head grinding backward against the chair, his growl of pleasure resonating around the room.
Judith did not let go—her grip becoming long strokes against his cock, strokes that seemed endless, time slowing to a stop as they continued.
She lowered her head, adding long hot breaths to the mix, as she slid one hand into his crotch and under his balls, caressing them, one finger finding the golden spot just behind them.
His growl became a low roar of infinite pleasure as his body arched and jerked, finding its release, his seed erupting from deep within, spurting over his stomach and chest. Judith did not relent until his body slowed its gyrations, then she eased her hands and hair away.
She brushed the long strands behind her shoulders, then reached for his shirt, cleaning his chest as he slowly extracted his fingers from the arms of the chair.
In pure awe, Mark watched Judith’s ministrations as he fought to regain his breath, waves of ecstasy still coursing through every fiber.
She used his shirt as if she were a highly skilled nurse, thorough but with a gentle touch.
She focused solely on whatever spot she cleaned, following each with a soft kiss.
She cleaned his deflating cock with a touch like fine cotton, as if she expected him to be sore, then pulled his small clothes back up as a cushion.
She finally returned the shirt to the floor and looked up at him, waiting.
“Come here.” He reached for her, and she complied, her body soft and pliant as she settled in his lap, resting her head on his shoulder.
“I hoped it would please you.”
He raised one of her hands to his lips. “You please me.”
She sighed and tucked her head down against his chest, her body becoming even more limp against him.
“You know I will return the favor.”
She giggled. “I hoped so. When you recover. Perhaps after a nap.”
He gave a low chuckle. “You do know men.”
“I am a wanton harlot, remember.”
He tightened his arms around her. “Definitely neither.” After a moment, he released her. “Stand up.”
She did, and he pushed out of the chair, a little annoyed at exactly how wobbly his legs remained. He turned her away from him and began to unlace her dress.
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Surely, not yet.”
He laughed. “No. But you asked to spend the night. I thought you might be more comfortable without the dress and stays.”
Judith nodded, releasing a long deep breath as the dress, then the stays, dropped away from her. “I do hate those bloody things.”
“They are, however, rather entertaining to remove.”
She turned to face him. “Oh?”
He took her arm, urging her toward the bed. “I can find all sorts of uses for those laces.”
Red spots tinged her cheeks, and she shivered. “Do you promise?”
An odd spark of hope bloomed in his chest. “Do not tempt me.”
She rested a hand on his bare chest as they stepped closer to the bed. “I am tempting you.”
He stumbled, catching himself against the post.
Judith giggled again. “Perhaps after that nap.” She turned and mounted the mattress, easing toward the center.
Mark doffed his loose trousers, blew out the candles—leaving only two oil lamps lit—and got in beside her. “Perhaps.”
As he lay back against the pillows, Judith curled on her side, tucking herself beneath his arm, one leg draping over his.
Mark pulled the covers up, snuggling them both in, relishing the feel of her heat against his side.
He had no intention of sleeping, but he did need to rest, lulling in the exquisite joy of having this woman in his arms. He watched as Judith’s body softened in slumber, her breathing evening out, her hair a glorious cascade down her back.
As the last of his pleasure leeched out of him, he closed his eyes, imagining, wishing for a time when each night could be just this blissful, just this peaceful.