The Duke's Tattoo: A Regency Romance of Love and Revenge, Though Not in That Order (20 page)

Having no idea how to comfort her, he spoke low and moved slowly. She calmed as they talked and a weight shifted off his heart. He resolved to stay until she was tucked in and fast asleep, nothing more.

Without warning, she stood on tiptoe, slipped her hands around his neck and kissed him.

All of his mostly pure intentions were overruled by purer, carnal lust for her. But rather than startle her, he let her kiss him, pressing her divine lips to his mouth as she wished. He kissed her back lightly and struggled to stay calm. Unfortunately, the crazed timpanist in his chest took up his mallets and began to flail away. This naturally sent overheated blood pulsing to his extremities in anticipation of a great deal more. But no! He manfully resisted his animal urge to grab her up and crush their mouths together properly. Instead, he held himself back as she kissed him with sweet hesitance. (A weaker man might’ve dropped dead on the spot from the strain the effort caused.)

He hummed his delight and felt her smile.

Gently, so gently, he separated them and smiled down into her eyes. He turned her slowly to face the mirror. Her eyes followed his hands as he began to ready her for bed. He combed his fingers through her sable curls and pulled out the pins that held them in place. Silken waves tumbled down over his wrists. He arranged her curtain of hair in one long, rippling fall down her back. Her scent enveloped him as her hair settled and he inhaled it deeply. Reaching around her, he found the bow beneath her bodice and slowly tugged the ribbons apart as he watched her in the mirror. Her lips parted and her eyes closed as the gown hung slack from her shoulders. With painstaking care, he gathered the dress and slipped it over her head. She shivered, though the night was balmy. Leaning in close to her neck, he breathed deeply the scent of her clean skin. He let her gown slip from his hands to the floor.

“I hadn’t realized these could be made to lace in front,” he murmured as he turned her to face him and untied her stays’ laces.

“It’s convenient although I cannot tighten them to the point of, uhmmm, fashionable amplification,” she apologized breathlessly, for what the duke had no idea. Women had odd notions about what men expected.

“Shhh.” What he saw, what he felt, surpassed his imaginings and he had an exceptionally vivid imagination. His fingers loosened the laces and lingered with exaggerated deliberation between the soft, warm swells of her breasts. “You are perfect,” he sighed with obvious satisfaction.

She leaned her forehead against his chest and lust roared through him and settled between his legs as he felt his way to finish undressing her. He brushed his fingers across her breasts above the edge of her short stays. Her heart fluttered under his fingertips.

Once unlaced, he let it fall to the floor, leaving her trembling in thin cotton chemise and petticoat. To calm her, he swept his broad hands in languid strokes down the sides of her breasts, over her flanks and, slowly kneeling before her, down her thighs.

Prudence’s breasts registered every sensation from all over her body. As the pleasures accumulated under his languid caresses, he watched her nipples gather and peak against the sheer cotton voile. Her eyes drifted closed and she let a soft sigh escape her parted lips. Her guileless responses fueled his lust. Kneeling before her, he untied her petticoat and pushed it down.

She swayed tipsily above him in nothing but a thin chemise. With both hands, she leaned on his broad shoulders for support while he stroked her hips and buttocks. Thanks to her, there was no pain in his left shoulder only pleasure. Her heart-shaped bottom fit his hands perfectly. Slowly, he brought her body to his lips and kissed the tender flesh between her thighs through the veil of her light chemise. He breathed the scent of her arousal. Pressing further, he almost tasted her. Impatiently, he slid the cotton up to reveal her dewy curls and dipped his tongue to savor her.

Oh, the taste of her, he groaned, slick as butter and as delicate as tears! Whoosh! His fiery blood incinerated any scruples he had regarding virgins. He was about to break his Eleventh Commandment. He was hard as a post and straining at his buckskin breeches, yet he managed to stand up and hold her tight against his aroused body. If this shocked her, if she pulled away, he would try to understand and try to let her go.

She leaned against him.

He tilted her face up and regarded the woman who had realigned the longitude and latitude of his life.

Then he kissed her.

He feasted on her lips gratefully, sucking at her full lower lip till she moaned into his mouth. When he broke the kiss and gasped for air, she kissed him back less shyly. Her hands sifted through the hair at the nape of his neck. Her fingernails left a tingling trail over his scalp that spread to the roots of his hair everywhere. His entire body seemed to burst into awareness at her caress. Oh, how he loved her hands!

He pulled her hard against his hips, grinding against her, lifting her off her feet. He relished her every sweet, breathless response. He felt shudder after shudder in her body as he pressed himself hard between her legs. Cupping her bottom in his hands, he felt her reticence ebb away as he ground against her. She clung to him, her slim arms snaked around his shoulders, holding him close. She melted and he rejoiced.

“Your Grace,” she sighed.

He chuckled, “My name is Jem, nymph, say it.” He kissed her to underscore his point.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” she teased, “Jem.”

“Just. Jem.” He kissed her hard twice for emphasis.

“Jem, Your Grace.”

“Just my given name,” he growled and kissed her again with his rigid erection throbbing against her. “Or I’ll punish you.”

“If this is how you punish me, you only encourage me to err, Your Grace.”

“Jem.” He kissed her more fiercely. He bore down, and when she sighed, he slipped inside her sweet mouth and teased her tongue with bold strokes.

Tentatively, she sucked on his tongue’s tip and nearly buckled his knees. When their lips finally parted, she sighed, “You kiss splendidly, Your Grace.”

“Only half as well as you, love,” he said. “And it’s Jem. Jem.” He cradled the back of her head in one large hand and kissed her with a loud lip smack before pulling back to look at her.

She smiled with passion-drugged eyes. “Then you must call me Prudence.”

“With pleasure,” he said and sprinkled kisses over her face before letting her slide down his aroused body till her feet touched the floor. Putting a few inches space between them, he reached for the gathered neckline of her chemise.

“May I, Prudence?”

“Yes, Jem.”

He untied the last ribbon and in one motion slipped the chemise off her shoulders.

“By God, you are so, so very lovely.” He drank in the sight of her creamy skin, her pouty, rose-tipped breasts, her sleek waist, the pleasing flare of her hips and her slim legs.

He swept her up into his arms, carried her to the bed and placed her down gently, repeating, “Prudence.” The fluttering, over-exercised organ in his chest battered his ribs as he yanked off his boots and tugged the linen shirt over his head. Buttons pinged to the floor in his haste. With shaking hands, he undid his breeches and bent over to push them down his hips. Not once did he take his eyes from her as he stripped away his clothes.

When he straightened, she gasped. “Oh, my lord!”

“No, proper address would be ‘Your Grace,’” he corrected with a grin. “But I much prefer you use my given name.”

He stood naked in the candlelight and her eyes goggled.

“Oh dear,” she said.

“Admiring your handiwork?” She looked up to meet his gaze, confused. He clarified, “Your witty tattoo.”

“I hadn’t noticed. I was much too distracted.”

“Distracted,” he purred, prowling toward the bed. His cock reacted to her like a stout compass needle pointing toward Prudence, his true north.

“Jem, I-I cannot possibly, er, accommodate you.”

“You flatter me but I promise, we’ll manage nicely,” Ainsworth grinned like a boy at mischief.

Prudence watched him approach from under the covers. His erection swayed with each step, his heavy sac hung pendulous between his thighs. His cock preened under her avid gaze. His veined shaft thickened, its foreskin receded and the head swelled. She stared transfixed as if his virility fascinated her, which made his member strive harder to impress.

“May I?” She asked. He knelt on the bed within reach and fought to stay still as her fingers touched his cock tentatively. She couldn’t hope to close her fingers around his shaft but she could and did stroke its silken skin. He moaned softly as she investigated.

God bless a woman with scientific inclinations!

At her innocent touch, exploring his length and girth, exhilaration crackled through him. She brushed its weeping slit with a finger and he shuddered with exquisite pleasure. She laughed in breathy, low gusts staring at his manhood in the candlelight. Had it been anyone else, Ainsworth would have been offended, but Prudence’s breathy delight in turn delighted him.

“Stay, love! Any more of your examination and our evening will end before it begins.” He lifted her hands away and pressed a quick kiss on each.

For the first time, he lifted the counterpane and slid naked between cool linen sheets to join her. Gently, he gathered her to him. The feel of her cool, smooth skin rushed through his nerves to swamp his brain and flood his groin with greater need.

He held her face between his hands and kissed her with more urgency. He tasted and teased her neck, her jaw and her soft, soft lips until they parted for him. The rhythm and motion of each stroke of his tongue was an intimation of what was to come. She moaned as he palmed her breast, loving its tender weight. Slowly, he tormented its taut tip with gentle fingers. Nibbling his way down her neck, he drew the tight bud into his mouth and tongued and suckled it until her body arched against his in response. At his leisure, he attended to her other breast and its gathered peak.

“Do you want this, nymph? Are you sure?”

“Yes, Jem.” She kissed him and whispered, “I want you.”

He shifted himself to move between her legs. He held himself above her on heavily corded arms. His arousal nestled snug at the apex of her legs, throbbing amid the tickle of her curls. With the subtlest flex of his hips he delved between her warm, slick folds. And like a flint striking true, the contact sparked a flame that grew between them. She opened against him, seeking ever more pressure, more heat, and more slick friction. Closing her eyes, her body moved beneath him. Her breath came in pants and moans as he stroked against her, stoking their fire with each caress. He gently, gently began to push inside her.

She tensed, “Jem?”

“Yes, nymph?” He panted and pressed light kisses on her face. She would kill him one way or another, either with pleasure or frustration.

“Will it hurt?”

He paused in his attentions, “The first time, yes, I’m afraid so.”

“A great deal?”

“I hope not, Prudence. But you’re my first in a way, too.” The importance of her gift overwhelmed him. He hesitated just inside the hot, silken heaven of her rather than forge ahead as every instinct demanded.

She stroked his cheek and met his gaze. “Well then, we’ll simply have to soldier on, won’t we?” Her shy smile banished his concern.

“By all means,” he chuckled and devoted himself to her pleasure. He struggled to keep from entering her in one rutting thrust. He began with infinite care and when he came to her maidenhead, she gasped at the pressure. Though it frayed his last nerve, he stopped to soothe her. He kissed her petal-soft cheeks, her brow, her eyelids, her nose, and lingered longer on her plush lips. He stroked her body with long, slow caresses until finally he felt her relax.

As they clung together, he withdrew and whispered, “I am sorry,” before surging in to the hilt. She cried out and clutched him tight. His pelvis pressed against hers, his erection fully sheathed inside her tight passage. Her body surrounded him, gripped him and nursed him, as if born for his lovemaking. And he never wanted to leave.

“I’m sorry, my love, so sorry,” he murmured. She opened her eyes and gave him a shy smile. He brushed strands of hair from her damp brow.

“I’m not sorry, Jem,” she said and sent his heart soaring. He could never have enough of Prudence Haversham, not in a lifetime, not in two lifetimes.

“Are you all right, nymph?”

“I think so,” she said and shifted her hips to be sure. He gasped aloud. “Oh, did that feel good, Jem?” She asked with a wicked, kittenish smile and did it again.

“Ohhh, sweet heaven, yesssss,” he hissed. She wriggled again and made him moan louder still.

Two could play that game.

He withdrew from her and flexed his hips, driving himself deep in one smooth thrust that left her gasping. Shifting one of her thighs higher on his waist, he drove in again. Deeper still. He slowly ground his hips against her. She moaned. Soon her hips rose to meet him. Together, they moved in perfect rhythm. Where they joined, her body came alive. She shuddered beneath him, spiraling up once again, as he felt himself near his climax. He thrust harder and faster to carry them both up, up higher still. They gazed at each other in the throes of ecstasy, their eyes enmeshed as intimately as their bodies.

A moment later, they tumbled together. He felt primal triumph as he pulsed deep inside her, filling her with his seed, claiming her.
Mine, forever mine!
Ainsworth kissed Prudence as he had never kissed another woman. For her kiss, he offered in exchange his heart and soul.

Afterward, they collapsed, laughing and whispering endearments, unable to sort their tangled legs.

Prudence Haversham was the picture of a well-loved woman. Her up-turned lips were swollen from his demanding kisses, her throat and breasts still dewy and flushed from release. Ainsworth kissed Prudence’s shoulder and luxuriated in her soft warmth. Her hair rippled in loose waves over the pillow they shared.

Looking deep into her enchanting eyes, he wondered if she understood: everything had changed.