Ask for It Part 7

"How often?" she repeated dumbly.

"How often did he take you? Every night? Every few days?""What does it matter?"

His nostrils flared on a deep breath, his frame taut beside her. Running an agitated hand through his hair, he was silent for a moment.

"Release me, Marcus, and forget this." Her shame was complete, there was no more he could do to her.

Hard fingers lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "I 'm going to touch you everywhere. With my hands, my mouth. In the light of day and long into the night. I 'll take you in whatever manner I choose, wherever I choose. I will know you as no one else in your life has known you."

"Why?" She struggled again, completely at his mercy and unbearably aroused. Spread for him, she felt the emptiness inside her and hated how badly she needed him to fill it.

"Because I can. Because after today you will crave me and the pleasure I can give you. Because you'll trust me, d.a.m.n you." He growled low in his throat. "All these years, married to him and then mourning him, when you could have been mine."

Dropping to his knees, he held her hips and dropped his head. Elizabeth held her breath as he closed his mouth full upon her breast, soaking through the fabric of her shirt and chemise. Startled at first, she was soon moaning and arching her back in silent encouragement. Sharp pangs of sensation radiated outward, moving in rhythm with his suction, her womb contracting in spasms of need.

Marcus's warm fingertips stroked from her waist to the ebony curls below. Painful tension seared her senses and Elizabeth gasped in surprise.

"I will touch you here," he warned. "With my fingers, my tongue, my c.o.c.k."

She bit her bottom lip, eyes wide.

"You will enjoy it," he promised, his thumb tugging her lip free from her teeth.

"You want to treat me like a wh.o.r.e. That is your revenge."

His smile was devoid of humor. "I want to give you pleasure, I want to hear you beg me for it. Why should you be deprived?"

Marcus stood and freed the placket of his breeches. Reaching inside, he withdrew his c.o.c.k, and a heretofore unknown level of wanting had her writhing in the chair. He was long and thick, the head broad and dark with the blood that engorged it. He jerked his hand along the length and creamy moisture leaked from the tip.

"See what the sight of you does to me, Elizabeth? How much power you wield? You are tied and helpless, yet it is I who is at your mercy."

Swallowing hard, her gaze was riveted to his display.

"Trust, Elizabeth. You must trust me, in all ways."

She looked up and ached at the sight of him. So beautiful, and yet harsh and rugged as only a man could be. "Is this about your mission?"

"This is about us. You and me." He stepped closer, and then closer still. "Open your mouth."

"What?" Her lungs seized.

"Take me in your mouth."

"No..." She recoiled.

"Where is the minx who said she was not one to run from the sight of a man's desire?" Marcus widened his stance until his powerful thighs bracketed the side of the chair and the glistening head of his c.o.c.k rested directly before and slightly below her mouth.

"This is trust," he whispered. "Think how you can hurt me, how vulnerable I am. You can bite me, love, and unman me. Or you can suckle me and bring me to my knees with pleasure. I ask this of you, knowing the risk, because I trust you. Just as I expect you to trust me."

Elizabeth stared at him, fascinated by the abrupt change in the balance between them. She met his eyes again and saw the longing there, the need. For now there was no bitterness. He looked so much as he had before, when they'd been promised to one another and free of past injuries. He was so breathtakingly handsome, appearing younger without the burden of his enmity.

I t was that openness that decided her mind. Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth followed the urging of her heart and opened her mouth.

Chapter 6

Marcus stood in an agony of l.u.s.t as Elizabeth's lips parted and she leaned forward to take him into her mouth. As she scalded him with wet heat, his breath hissed out between his teeth. His knees buckled and he gripped the high back of the chair with his free hand to remain upright.

She pulled away with wide-eyed horror. "Did I hurt you?"

Incapable of speech, he shook his head rapidly. She swallowed hard and his c.o.c.k leapt in his hand. Licking her lower lip, she opened her mouth and tried again, this time engulfing the whole of the crown.

"Suck," he gasped, his head falling so that he hovered over her, watching as her cheeks hollowed and she tugged with soft suction. His legs trembled and he groaned a low, tortured sound.

Encouraged, she took him deeper, her tongue swirling in tentative exploration. Her mouth was stretched wide to accommodate his girth and the sight was enough to wipe his brain of any rational thought.

"I 'm going to move," he bit out. "Don't be frightened." His hips began to thrust forward, f.u.c.king her mouth with gentle, shallow strokes. Her eyes widened, but she didn't pull away or protest, instead she responded with less and less hesitation.

Watching her, Marcus was certain he'd pa.s.sed on to his reward and been given the realization of his deepest longing. He was afraid to believe it was Elizabeth who serviced him so well.

"G.o.d, Elizabeth..."

Releasing his c.o.c.k, he dropped his hand between her legs and caressed her through the open folds of her s.e.x. She moaned and he stroked with more intent, determined to concentrate on her in an effort to hold off his own imminent release. Slick and hot, she melted into his touch.

She felt so good, like satin, and he grit his teeth as he slipped a finger inside her. Tight as she was, she'd be a snug fit. His chest ached. His sac weighed heavily, then drew up. He stepped back on shaky legs, his c.o.c.k slipping from her mouth with a soft, wet pop.

She worked her jaw and licked her lips, her violet eyes dark and questioning.

His voice like gravel he whispered, "I t's time."

Elizabeth shivered. Marcus had always looked at her as if she were a meal laid before a starving man. At the moment however, his gaze was...desperate. The tip of his c.o.c.k leaked profusely, and she swallowed, her mouth flavored with his essence.

He'd felt so different from what she'd expected. She'd thought herself beyond the innocence of a virginal girl. Now she realized how little she knew. With the thick, pulsing roping of veins that etched his erection she'd imagined he would be hard, textured. Instead the skin had been as soft as the finest silk, slipping over her tongue in a rhythm that awakened a matching pulse between her legs.

The act was not what she had expected, not at all. She'd thought she'd feel used, nothing more than a receptacle for his l.u.s.t. But he was devastated, she could see it and she'd felt it in the way he trembled. The way his voice had grown so hoa.r.s.e. There was power to be had in possessing a man's pa.s.sion.

"Release me," she ordered breathlessly, wanting to see how far she could take this.

He shook his head and pushed the back of the chair onto its hind legs. Caught off balance, she screeched until he stopped. I t was then she understood his aim. Resting the top of the chair against the nearby damask-covered wall angled her perfectly, presenting her spread s.e.x to his c.o.c.k. His grin stole her breath, filled as it was with wicked promises. He reached between them and pressed his erect shaft down, bending his knees until he breeched her. He stroked up and down, coating her with the s.e.m.e.n that continued to dribble from the flushed head.

She couldn't hold back the half-sob of antic.i.p.ation. The blatant, deliberate teasing had her sweating and gasping for air. She ignored the voice that urged her to fight, choosing instead to enjoy him...just this once.

"Do your arms pain you?" he asked, never ceasing his movements, soaking her with the evidence of his excitement.

"You pain me."

"Should I stop?" From the catch in his voice, she knew the thought was torturous."I shall shoot you if you stop."

With a groan, he positioned and thrust deep, forging through her in a relentless drive. She writhed against the invasion, the size of him far too much for her long unused flesh. The tip of him rubbed inside her, stretching her, stroking her far better than his magical fingers had done.

Both hands to the wall, Marcus gasped as he slipped deep. "Ah, Christ." He shuddered. "You're hot as h.e.l.l and tight as a fist."

"Marcus..." She whimpered. There was something undeniably erotic in the way he took her, still partially dressed with his boots on. I t should have offended her. But it didn't.

All these years she'd spent consoling the women discarded by her father and listening to the gossip of women left disillusioned by Marcus's inconstancy. How had they failed to see their own influence? Marcus had nearly killed a man with his bare hands, yet here he stood before her, weakened in his need.

He pulled out, his head down bent. "Watch me f.u.c.k you, Elizabeth." His powerful thighs flexed beneath his breeches as he pressed back inside. She gazed, eyes riveted to the sight of the thick, proud shaft slick with her cream withdrawing, only to return in a painfully slow glide.

Her arms ached, her legs stretched uncomfortably, and her tailbone was growing numb from bearing the brunt of her weight, but she didn't care. Nothing mattered beyond the apex of her thighs and the man who rutted there.

"This is trust," he said, his hips pumping his c.o.c.k into her with a precise, unfaltering rhythm.

Trust. Tears slipped past her lashes as the divine torment continued, his skill undeniable. He knew just how to stroke her, dipping with bent thighs to rub his c.o.c.k in just the right spot to pleasure her to madness. She was panting with it, and then begging for it. Her blood roared, her nipples peaked so tightly beneath her garments they ached. "Please..."

Marcus was panting too, his chest heaving so forcefully it shook the sweat from his hair to drip onto her face. Her heart swelled at the intimacy.

"Yes," he growled. "Now." He dropped one hand between her legs and rubbed gently. Like a spring coiled too tightly, she broke free with a sharp cry. Her back bowed and Marcus moved in slow, deep strokes, drawing out her pleasure, keeping her taut and breathless and tearful beneath him.

"No more..." she cried, unable to bear another moment.

He thrust his c.o.c.k deep and held it there, allowing the fading ripples of her o.r.g.a.s.m to milk him. He sucked in a sharp breath and then began to shudder with such force the chair back tapped against the wall. He groaned, a long, low, pained sound as his c.o.c.k jerked inside her filling her with his seed.

Gasping, he finally stilled. He tilted his head and stared into her eyes. The frank bemus.e.m.e.nt in the emerald depths soothed her somewhat, lost as she was in her own devastation.

"Too fast," he muttered. One of his hands left the wall and cupped her cheek, his thumb following the curve of her cheekbone.

"Are you mad?" She swallowed hard to ease the hoa.r.s.eness of her voice.

"Yes." He pulled away slowly, carefully, but she still winced from the loss. With great care he unhooked her legs from the arm of the chair and helped her to her feet. Weakened, she crumpled against him. He caught her up, and carried her to the bed.

Laying her on her side, Marcus untied her hands, rubbing her shoulders and arms when they tingled as the blood returned. Then he reached for the bow at her throat.

Elizabeth pulled back. "I must leave now."

Chuckling, Marcus took a seat next to her. He bent low to tug off his boots, removing a blade hidden there and setting it on the nightstand.

"You are exhausted, and can barely walk. You are in no condition to seat a horse."

Elizabeth's hand drifted across his back, a finger swirling curiously around the bullet wound scar that marred his hard flesh. Turning his head, he kissed her fingertips as they traveled over the top of his shoulder, stunning her with the tender gesture. He stood, quickly doffing his breeches and she looked away as heat flared within her, staring out the window at the afternoon sky partly-hidden behind filmy sheers.

"Look at me," he said gruffly, a plea hidden under a rough command.

"No."

"Elizabeth, there is no shame in wanting me."

Her mouth curved ruefully, the view of the window fading from her perception. "Of course not. Every woman does."

"I am not thinking about other women, you shouldn't be either." He sighed with the exasperation one would display over a recalcitrant child.

"Look at me. Please."

She turned her head slowly, her heart hammering in her chest. Impossibly broad shoulders tapered to a rippled stomach, lean hips, andlong, powerful legs. Marcus Ashford was perfection, the scars that marred his torso only serving to make him human and not some ancient G.o.d.

She'd intended to keep her gaze high, but she was unable to stop herself from looking lower. Long and thick, his impressive erection made her swallow hard.

"Heavens. How can you...? You're still..."

He gave her a wicked smile. "Ready for s.e.x?"

"I am exhausted," she complained.

Marcus tugged at the tie at her neck, using her distraction with his c.o.c.k to lift her shirt over her head. "You don't have to do anything." But when he reached for her chemise she slapped his hand away, needing some barrier, however sheer, between them.

He strolled with casual ease to the corner and went behind the screen, returning a moment later with a damp cloth. He pushed her back into the pillows and reached for her knee. She rolled away.

"I t's a little late for modesty, wouldn't you say, sweet?"

"What are you about?"

"I f you come back here, I 'll show you."

Elizabeth thought for long moments, guessing his intent and not certain if she could grant him that level of intimacy.

"My body has been inside yours." His voice was low and seductive. "Can you not trust me to bathe you?"

The hint of challenge in his tone decided her. She turned onto her back and spread her legs with more than a hint of defiance. His lopsided smile made her blush.

Gently he swept the cloth across her curls before parting her with reverent fingers and cleansing her folds. Sore as she was, the cool dampness felt wonderful and she breathed a soft sound of pleasure. She forced herself to relax, to close her eyes and release the tension brought on by Marcus's proximity. On the verge of drifting to sleep, she shot up with a startled cry when molten heat drenched her s.e.x.

She stared down the length of her torso with wide eyes, her heart racing to see Marcus's dark smile.

"Did you just...lick me?"

"Oh yes." Tossing the washcloth carelessly to the rug, he crawled over her with potent grace. "I see I 've scandalized you. Since you've already suffered enough today, I shall grant you a short reprieve. But be prepared to accept my future attentions in whatever manner I choose."

Shivering as his furred chest brushed across her chemise-covered nipples, Elizabeth sank farther into the pillows, overwhelmed by the sheer force of his presence.