A Whisper of Desire Read online

  Tomorrow he would have to face her. He had a feeling that unlike his previous partners, he most definitely would desire to lie with her again, and that was the problem. It would be so easy to slide into a sexual haze, and given he was his father’s son, his father’s blood was carried in his veins, where would that lead?

  To his immense pleasure and pride he watched in disbelief as Marisa, with a knowing smile, slid her hand down over one pert breast, continuing down to disappear into dark curls.

  “What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander,” she said, and let out a long sigh as she focused on his hand moving on his cock while her fingers disappeared within her glistening folds.

  He began to stroke with firm, heavy motions, desperate to come before he lost control and dove onto the bed to plunge between her open thighs, screaming his ownership to the heavens.

  He didn’t have to wait long. Her fingers moved deeper and reappeared covered in her juice. When she moaned and lifted her hips off the bed, every muscle in his body strained for release. He grabbed the bedpost as his knees buckled with his nearing orgasm. He could not hold back and he yelled her name.

  He sank onto the end of his bed, still holding the post for support, his mind blank, his body shuddering with the aftereffects of one of the most explosive releases he could remember giving himself.

  She spoke softly. “Beautiful. That’s the most erotic thing I have ever seen.” Her breath feathered his cheek as, on her knees, she came up behind him, her breasts and hard nipples grazing his back.

  “I wanted you too much. It will likely hurt your first time unless I prepare you properly, and I was worried about staying in control.”

  She nibbled at his neck. “I’m pretty sure I’m more than ready after seeing you pleasure yourself.”

  A gentle chuckle left his lips. “Do you pleasure yourself often?” he asked. “I didn’t think a virginal young lady knew of such things.”

  “I caught Sebastian doing what you just did when I was fifteen. He was with a girl from the village. It was too awful watching my brother, so I slipped away and waited to talk with her afterward. I asked her to explain what they were doing. She kindly did and I went home and experimented.” Her voice lowered to a seductive purr. “And I liked the sensations.”

  He turned his head and caught her lips with his. When he broke the kiss, he rose and walked behind the screen to clean himself off.

  She was still sitting at the end of the bed, her legs curled under her. He couldn’t stop himself. “If you lie back and let me watch you pleasure yourself, I assure you I’ll be ready to fulfill my husbandry duties in a flash.”

  She blushed furiously and stammered, “I’m not sure I feel comfortable doing that while you watch.”

  He crawled onto the bed beside her. “You were a few minutes ago.”

  “I guess I was caught up in the moment. You looked magnificent and I wanted to please you.”

  He linked his hand with hers. “Do you no longer wish to please me, little one?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call me that. I know I’m large and ungainly—”

  He silenced her with another kiss. Finally he drew back. “You’re not ungainly, you’re simply little compared to me. I think you’re beautiful—perfect, in fact.”

  He let go of her hand and moved to cup one breast. “Your bosom fits my hand as if made for it.” He gently squeezed and ran his finger over her taut nipple, making her squirm. He pushed her onto her back and she sank into the soft mattress. Lying next to her, he ran his hand up her long, toned leg to where it joined her hip. “These long legs were made especially so they can wrap round my waist, allowing me to pleasure you deeper and harder.” He placed his hand over her stomach, stretching his fingers from hip to hip. “You have broad hips, all the better to cradle my children deep within your womb.” Lastly his hand rose and his thumb traced her lips. “Your lips are plump and ripe, and now all I can think of is kissing them.” He watched her nibble her bottom lip, running her tongue over it as if testing if his words were true. God, what he’d love to teach her to do with those lips. He pictured her taking him into her mouth, those lips suckling him until he exploded once more.

  Already his dark desires surfaced. He’d have to be careful. Marisa could be the ruin of him and the Lyttleton name.

  Focus. For the rest of the night and into the morning, this would be all about her. Her pleasure, her wants, and her desires.

  She looked at him from under lowered eyelashes, her silky dark hair the perfect shield for her expression. “I don’t know what to do to please you. Show me,” she entreated on a soft sigh, and she took his hand and placed it at the junction of her thighs, leaving her hand on top of his.

  He relished her letting him take command, leading her how he wanted, teaching her how to pleasure herself and how to please him. Focusing on his partner’s pleasure kept his needs at bay.

  He was expert at helping his partners learn the ways to make passion last, to reach the pinnacle again and again until they were fully sated.

  He rose up on one elbow, resting his head in his palm. The other hand, the hand that was exactly where he’d longed to be since she’d walked into his bedchamber, he let sink into her curls, shuddering at how wet he found her. He loved that she readily responded to him. He took her tiny hand in his and ran one delicate finger down through her wet folds and then back up to press firmly on her hardened nub.

  “I love that you’re so wet for me. I bet you taste like the sweetest nectar.” He repeated the movements, but this time he lifted her finger coated in her body’s fluids to his mouth and sucked. “Delicious.”

  He guided her finger back to her wet folds. “Now do it on your own. Stroke and then press, hard or soft; you find the rhythm that brings you the most sensation. Then, when you’re ready, taste.”

  He settled in to watch as she unthinkingly obeyed him. She explored as he directed with the odd comment all the while never taking her eyes from his face. She watched him watching her, and she could see his desire for her build. At one point Marisa briefly closed her eyes on a sweet moan, but when she felt his member stir against her thigh, they flashed open. Only then did she raise her finger to her lips and taste herself. Before she could remove the finger from her mouth, his lips sought hers and they tasted her together.

  “I need more; you taste delicious,” he said, then let out a gravelly command: “Move further up the bed.”

  Once she had done as he’d directed, he lay in the V of her thighs, spreading them wide with his shoulders. He drank in the sight and smell of her.

  “When do I get to taste you? It’s amazing what a young lady can learn when her brother is easily distracted and has not-very-discreet friends.”

  “Whom did you spy on? Was it me?” The thought of her secretly watching him at love sport made his cock throb.

  “No. It wasn’t you.”

  “Then I don’t want to know.” The idea that she’d seen another man being pleasured and got aroused by it saw a possessive haze blur his vision.

  “Soon you’ll taste me, and only me. Just as this feast before my eyes is for me alone.” He ran his tongue up the inside of her trembling thigh. “Now is about your pleasure. You have some catching up to do.”

  —

  She’d registered the angry scowl that had crossed Maitland’s handsome features when she’d mentioned seeing another man being serviced.

  Only a few weeks ago, at Lord Donnel’s ball, she’d sought the quiet of the gardens when Rutherford had once again failed to propose to her. She was sitting quietly by a small fountain when on the other side of the roses a couple appeared. She recognized Arend’s voice. She hadn’t meant to watch, but the look upon Arend’s face as a woman on her knees serviced him, taking his member into her mouth with her hand stroking him, had kept her frozen to the spot. She’d come over all hot and flushed, her body reacting to the sight of his obvious pleasure. She’d watched a man she’d thought dark and dangerous come apart, his
hands wrapped tightly in the woman’s hair, his hips thrusting his erection deep into her mouth, his growls animalistic, and yet the vulnerability in his face as he came almost made her weep. The woman may have simply been one of Arend’s many lovers, but he gave all of himself to the act. For a brief moment you could see into his soul, pure and good.

  The woman also seemed to enjoy it immensely, because as soon as he slipped free of her mouth, Arend pulled her into his arms, his hand fumbling under her skirts, and it took no more than a few strokes before she was quivering in his arms and calling out Arend’s name. They simply held each other, breathing deeply. That’s when he’d looked over to where she stood on the other side of the arbor and smiled. She’d turned tail and run. He’d never once mentioned the moment to her.

  Since that night, she’d always dreamed of being able to make her lover lose control like that. To be so caught up in passion that they dispensed with their outer armor and showed their inner selves, their vulnerability.

  Maitland’s previous release seemed so controlled, as if he was scared to expose his inner self. Perhaps it was because they were still strangers?

  A nip on the soft skin of her inner thigh refocused her. She looked at Maitland’s head as it lay between her thighs and wondered if he ever completely lost himself in passion, or would he stay controlled, as he had when he pleasured himself. He stroked himself as if to order. He’d obviously found release in the actions, but to her it was as if it could have been any woman lying open and naked before him. There was nothing special about the woman in his bed being his newly married wife.

  It was as if there was a routine or pattern to his lovemaking. Perhaps he started all his amorous pursuits this way.

  The notion disturbed her. She’d known he rarely showed emotion, but in the bedroom? Surely he felt secure enough to let go? She didn’t like to think Maitland hid himself from her. They could hardly build a life together if she never got to know or understand him.

  Soon any thought of understanding anything was driven out by the shock of Maitland’s tongue sweeping through her folds. Her legs instantly tried to close, but his massive shoulders held her open to him.

  His tongue was gentle one minute and then ruthless the next. She was kept on edge, never knowing what to expect. A soft cry fell from her lips when he touched a certain spot. Another stroke. He paused and her whole body tensed in anticipation. This time he gently sucked that special spot and her eyes rolled into her head under her closed lids.

  Sensations so exquisite bombarded her to the point she almost forgot to breathe.

  Just when she thought nothing could be better, she felt a finger enter her and it was too much. She moaned into the room. Heat grew with each touch from his magic tongue and fingers!

  To her embarrassment, her hips moved, trying to press closer, trying to ease the ache inside. His clever tongue hit the spot again and her whole body lifted off the bed.

  “Mait…land…” she cried.

  His chuckle sent more waves of pleasure washing over her, the sensations too intense, too overwhelming, so she almost wanted him to stop.

  “Stop thinking and just enjoy,” he commanded, and then he nibbled on that magic spot. He gave a painful little bite that saw her straining once again. As her back arched he soothed her with his lapping tongue while a second finger joined the first, stretching her, readying her. She remembered how big Maitland had looked as he stroked himself and she wondered how he would ever fit.

  His thumb found her hardened nub and pressed. Soon she was panting, her whole being focused on what he was doing to her. The combination of lapping tongue and his fingers deep inside her made stars appear under her tightly closed eyelids.

  Now she understood how hard it was to lose control in front of another. You had to give up a part of yourself.

  She knew the pleasure she’d receive would be worth it when Maitland allowed her to reach the pinnacle. He held her on the edge of the chasm. One more lick or suck in the right place, and she’d fly. After watching Arend, she’d pleasured herself in her room, alone, with not a soul around to watch her. But this time she had an audience, a man who liked to control everything, and suddenly the idea of letting him control her secret moments scared her.

  “Let go, Marisa,” he urged. “I want to see you overcome with pleasure.”

  His whole mouth suckling her, devouring her, followed his words. She felt shudders go through him where his hands gripped her thighs, spreading them wider.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, his fingers left her, only to be replaced by his tongue. He used his fingers on her hard little nub, catching it between his fingers and pinching while his tongue entered her over and over again.

  She wanted the sweet release and she could feel it building. Her body shook with each thrust of his tongue and soon she’d bare her soul to this man, and she was glad to. He was her husband, her life partner. He’d be the father of her children.

  Her body grew tight, her hands gripped the sheets, and her mind closed to everything but what his mouth and hands were doing to her.

  The climax hit with such force it knocked the breath out of her. She flew up into the clouds and her world came apart in an explosion of color and stars.

  Her body convulsed out of control and her eyes flew open to see Maitland watching her come undone with possessive pride in his eyes.

  For a brief second she wondered what he saw.

  —

  Fate had selected his wife well. Pride invaded his chest and he felt his heart swell. She gave of herself unabashed, relishing in her passion, not embarrassed to show him her desires.

  He was hard and aching all over again; her climax, hearing her climax, knowing he brought her to earth-shattering release, aroused him beyond measure.

  He lifted himself on his elbows and admired his work. He loved how wet and glistening, swollen from his mouth, she was, so ready for him to make her his wife.

  He rose above her on all fours. Her legs stayed spread, her limbs boneless, but a smile as saucy as any courtesan’s settled upon her lips. She looked utterly satisfied and so beautiful in the dim lighting of the room.

  “Let’s do that again,” she whispered.

  Chapter 6

  He crawled up the bed and lay beside her, his hand trailing over her damp skin. “I’m more than happy to oblige, my duchess.”

  Marisa turned toward him and the enormity of the night hit him deep within his chest. Tonight was not simply about sex with a beautiful woman. Soon he would make her his and their lives would be entwined forever.

  He’d thought he could keep her at arm’s distance. They would lead independent lives yet share only the occasional intimacies. Something painful akin to a hand gripping his bollocks caught him off guard. He wasn’t sure how to keep his life as it had been—calm, contained, controlled—with a woman like Marisa. She was so much more than he’d expected, and this marriage of convenience was in danger of becoming more.

  There was something about her that called to him. Had it been there all along, and that was why he’d suggested their marriage to Sebastian a few months ago? Had he been fooling himself even then?

  No. He was in control of his destiny and he knew what he required in a wife. Companionship, ability to run his many households; she should maintain his dignity in society and bear him sons. He would have a marriage so far removed from his father’s marriages that society would soon forget about the disgrace his father was.

  It was imperative that the woman, the enemy who forced his hand to marry, who was after vengeance against the Libertine Scholars, did not reveal any of his father’s secrets, or society may look too closely and uncover the secret he had to carry to his grave.

  Marisa rolled to cuddle next to him, and he inwardly sighed. The sooner he got her with child, the better. Then he’d have an excuse not to lie with her.

  The image of Marisa large and round with his child focused his thoughts. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her
thoroughly.

  Her hands ran down his back, feeling his muscles before cupping his buttocks and pulling him closer to her. His body roared to life, his erection stiff and seeking.

  He rolled her under him, his to command, and his to take. The idea of teaching her about coitus excited him.

  She buried her face against his chest, her breath hot, her tongue seeking, lapping his nipple as he had lapped her secret folds. He let out a growl when her teeth nipped and sucked. Her hands explored and he felt his control slipping. He should be the one directing.

  His erection stirred, crying out for attention, and when her hand slipped between them and wrapped about him, it was his turn to rise up from the bed.

  Her previous voyeurism had given her knowledge, and her fingers began to move. Up and down, timid at first, but soon her grip tightened and he was forced to reach down and grab her hand to slow her down.

  “You like being in control, don’t you?”

  Her words startled him. “Most men do.”

  “Surely it is a nice change to be the one who is being led, so you don’t have to think, you can simply relax and indulge.”

  Absolutely not. Relaxing and indulging was what had led his father down a path of destruction. After watching his father destroy himself, his honor, and almost the family, Maitland spent his adult life fighting the impulse to give up the tight control he strove for. There were buried secrets in his family, and if he relaxed he never knew what might come out. That’s why he was so focused on capturing their villainess. She was simply another wicked deed his father had perpetuated, and Maitland had fought too hard to let the Lyttleton name fall from grace. Especially now that he was married and would soon become a father.

  The control he cultivated was what would save the Lyttleton name from disgrace. Only his ability to think dispassionately kept his father’s wicked deeds secret. In addition, he had used the gift God had bestowed upon him, his brain, to rebuild the family coffers.