Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

“ C heckmate,” Lily said with a grin, peeking up at Oliver from beneath her lashes. She still wanted to pinch herself, to know they were sprawled atop a large blanket spread on his library floor, playing chess and sipping brandies, naked. It was horribly wicked of her, and she loved every minute. She felt no shame in being so bare before him, and he seemed equally amused and captivated whenever he caught her staring at his muscled form. Their clothes and unmentionable garments remained scattered on the floor, and her marquess had taken several cushions from the chaise and littered the floor with them.

He knew she was his mysterious lover and there had been no condemnation. In fact, Lily believed he was quite relieved to discover Mrs. Lily Layton and the provocative Dahlia were the same. That knowledge was distressingly fascinating. He had made no mention of courtship, which tempered her intrigue, considering it was the reason he had proffered for wanting her identity. Not that she would have said yes—he deserved better—but it would have been so wonderful to know he would still want her, without a dowry and connections.

How long did they really have as lovers? The marchioness’s new lady’s companion would arrive at Belgrave Manor in two weeks’ time. Then Lily would take herself off to town to start the wonderful journey of opening her own business. Would the marquess wish to continue their affair?

“You are a very crafty player,” he said with a smile, finally ending his analysis of the board.

“That I am, my lord.”

“Who taught you?”

“My papa did. He was delighted when I showed interest at a young age. I felt like I had given him a great gift because I was smart. It was as I grew older that I realized how very different and wonderful Papa is. He encouraged my learning and did not believe certain pursuits were reserved for the men of our society.”

He reached for the tumbler and refilled their glasses. “He sounds like a good man.”

Lily felt as if she were floating but did not protest, taking another healthy swallow of the amber liquid.

“Easy,” he cautioned.

“Who taught you?”

His beautiful eyes shadowed. “My father.”

“You do not like speaking of him?”

Oliver took several sips of his brandy, his gaze considering her for several seconds. “My father was quite a brilliant businessman and strategist. From the age of twelve, I was at his side, learning how to manage the estate and other investments. He was not like other lords who believed owning businesses and working to ensure those interests remain profitable were bourgeois. He was a good father to my sisters and me.”

“And you have businesses outside of your lands and property?”

“Several.”

“May I ask, how did he die? The marchioness never said.”

A frown split her lover’s brow, and a faraway look appeared in his eyes. “In his sleep.”

“Oh!”

“He was in robust health and had only ever gotten a good report from the doctors when they attended him. My father complained of a headache. He went to lie down, and a few hours later when my mother went to check on him … he was gone.”

“Oh, Oliver, I am so terribly sorry.”

“It was a few years ago, Lily, and the passage of death is normal,” he said flatly.

Yet there were still shadows in his eyes. “Then why do you seem so troubled, angry even?”

Lily pushed aside the chess set, uncaring when the pieces fell from the board onto the carpet. She shifted closer to her marquess, and it felt so natural to press a kiss along the strong line of his jaw. She wanted so much to comfort him, even if she hardly understood the source of his discomfort.

“We had an argument the day before he died,” Oliver said gruffly. “I felt we never repaired the hurt our words caused, and then he was gone.”

She leaned back, searching his shuttered expression. “One argument and heated words can’t replace a lifetime of love.”

“It was rather vile, and I did not temper my anger. I found him with a kitchen maid … he was tupping her, and the girl was only fourteen.”

Lily gasped.

“It was my father’s vice to dally with whomever he pleased, whenever he wanted, and he often turned his lascivious attention to the servants in our household, women who I believe had little choice, even if they had wanted to decline.”

“They wouldn’t have refused for fear of losing their position without a recommendation,” Lily said.

He tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling. “And despite his proclivities, I loved him, Lily. I loved my father still.”

“I think that is the best kind of love, knowing the fault of the person and still feeling such strong sentiments.”

Her lover regarded her. “I like you, Lily. I’m very glad you are Dahlia, for you see, I’ve been having very explicit thoughts about Lily Layton and hardly knew what to do with them.”

A piercing awareness blossomed through her. “You wouldn’t have seduced me,” she whispered. “For I’m a dependent within your household.”

“Never. I would have fought the temptation with everything in me.”

“And you are not angry with me?”

There was a significant pause as he considered her question. “The very opposite. I am enthralled.”

Sweet pleasure burst into her heart. “Sentiments I return wholeheartedly.” Yet she wondered if, after tonight, he would ever touch her again.

Ignoring the dart of anxiety, she crawled closer and pressed her lips to his and kissed this delightful man who she wished was hers. Lips fused to his, their hearts jerking in tandem, she explored the hard planes of his chest. Within seconds, her body quickened, and passion overwhelmed her.

He eased her over, his hands strong and gentle as he turned her. Wet kisses trailed along her spine as he twisted her so she lay on her stomach. A tremble of uncertainty coursed through her when he nudged her legs wider, arching her hips to his questing fingers. Her shivering grew more pronounced, and she gripped the cushions above her head as he parted the globes of her buttocks.

When his fingertip reached the curve of her buttock, her breath audibly hitched.

“I did promise to fuck you here, didn’t I?”

A breath puffed from her lips, and she nodded. A ghost of a smile curved his lips, and the sensual intent in it shot a bolt of heat straight to her core. The arousal she felt scared her. It felt too dark, too needy, too desperate. She fought to control her breathing as hunger thundered through her veins. As his finger passed the tight entrance of her ass, two fingers of his other hand dipped into the soaking depths of her core. Her body rippled, and his soft laugh was one of delight as he felt her wetness.

His chest slid against her damp back as he leaned over her, nipping her neck. “Do you want this?”

She did not want half measures. She wanted to do everything to him that she had ever dreamed of doing to a lover, to be free from shame and polite expectations, to only revel in her sexuality. Her marquess awoke a wicked craving inside her core, and he did not make her feel embarrassed at her wanton needs.

“Yes …” Her answer was dredged from deep inside of her, and she trembled at the heat that filled her. It burned away her uncertainty, her fear, and she welcomed the dark desire that flowered inside of her.

He pushed her shoulders flat to the floor and raised her buttocks for his exploration. She had never been touched there, not even by her own hands when she brought herself to pleasure. Something warm and oily glided from his fingers around her forbidden entrance, and tension sifted along her frame. Despite her wild arousal, nerves coiled inside.

A long finger slipped into her tightly clenched muscles. She cried out at the sensuous sting. The bite of pain did not repel her. Instead, laden heat surged through her limbs, and her clitoris pulsated in anticipation. Her fingers clenched in the blankets beneath her.

“Burn me alive, Lily,” her lover murmured. He inserted a second … then a third finger, working her in a gentle screwing motion. She shivered beneath the caress, her hips arching toward that heated, dominant touch that was like fire against her flesh.

His hand smoothed over her hip and down the curve of her ass to her thigh. “I’ve hungered for a lover who would take me with such trust … with such fire as you, my sweet.”

She trembled as emotions ripped through her. And I’ve longed for you, too …

Her breasts ached for relief, sensitive to the slightest of caresses of the blankets beneath her. She felt heated and sensual as he stroked her for long minutes, his fingers stretching her, preparing her, making her crazy. Lily relaxed, accepting the dark hunger and allowing the waves of pleasure to wash through her.

He shifted behind her, drawing her up onto her knees but pushing her shoulders down closer to the floor. “Arch your hips and relax.”

She complied with his aroused demands.

His length flexed against her buttocks as he drew in a hard breath. She moaned, hot coils of pleasure-pain owning her as the head of his cock began to work inside her heavily oiled rear. Fire exploded along her nerves as her opening yielded increasingly under his relentless entry. She instinctively tensed. The fingers that covered her core ran over her clitoris in a lightning fast caress before thrusting deep into her pussy.

Thrill seared through her body. “Oliver,” she whimpered, the lust clawing at her frighteningly.

“Relax, my sweet. You are so fucking tight, but you can take me. Push back on me and relax.”

Lily forced herself to relax, to trust him, to accept the edge of pain along with the pleasure.

“That’s it,” he said as she wetted his fingers. “Hold on to the cushions.”

She gripped the pillows, her hips arching even more. A low moan of response broke from deep in her throat as he relentlessly pushed forward, parting her muscles with his length until he sank to the hilt. Lily wailed at the fiery pleasure-pain. She could feel him, thick and heavy, buried deep within the tightness of her body.

He pinched her clitoris and rubbed in a slow, sinuous motion as he started a gentle lunge and retreat. Her mind hazed at the shocking sensation that sizzled up her spine and had her arching in mindless want.

“You are so gorgeous … so beautiful,” he whispered as he blanketed her body further with his. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, and the fingers that had been inside her quim withdrew and stroked from her hips to the underside of her breast and up to her neck, where he encircled her throat lightly, his darker complexion an erotic contrast against her paler skin.

She whimpered, reveling in the dominance of his touch. His hand tightened around her throat ever so slightly, his thumb pressing against the fluttering pulse at the base of her neck.

“I am going to ruin you for anyone else, as you’ve ruined me, my sweet Lily. After tonight you will never think of fucking another man,” he said with a hard thrust inside of her ass.

Evocative delight speared through her, dark and needy, filling her with painful splendor. Lily became a creature of pure sensation, riding the waves of sensual freedom and wildness. Her heart began to pound against her eardrums. “So, ruin me, and stop talking,” she breathed out in challenge.

He vented a low, appreciative chuckle at her ear, one filled with darkness and delight, before he nipped it with a sharp sting. His hand tightened more at her throat, and Lily barely had time to draw in a deep breath before he slammed hard and deep into her ass, with more strength than she had been prepared for. “Oliver!”

Sweat slicked her skin, she trembled, impaled on him, and a harsh sob ripped from her. The sheer domination of the act was overwhelming, and she realized Oliver was not hiding his sensuality from her. She was discovering the depths of his depraved and decadent desires.

“Your ass is choking the life from my cock … but nothing is better than your sweet cunt. Its taste, its feel, its wetness, and I can’t wait to be back in your clasp.”

His raw, explicit words inflamed her, and the pain of his possession gave way to dark, erotic ecstasy. Her fingers clenched on the throw cushions as he arched her ass more for his penetration. His hand remained encircling her throat, and the other gripped her hip as he worked his cock in and out of her with surging thrusts. She couldn’t move, could do nothing but tremble under his weight, crying out in bliss at each penetration. A seething cauldron boiled in her. Her body tightened as bliss poured through her in torrents, a sensation pulsed from her toes to her core, eliciting an uncontrollable quivering within her thighs that soon spread to her entire body, and she orgasmed more powerfully than she thought possible.

Pleasure, like a living flame, arched over her body and burned Lily with delight. She screamed into a small cushion; she sobbed because it was too much and at the same time never enough. The rush of sensations was almost agonizing. With a guttural groan, he hugged her in a punishing grip as he emptied inside of her. Seconds passed in silence, their ragged breathing joined in a perfect symphony before he gently pulled from her.

Lily collapsed beneath him, her body still shivering with the hard aftershocks of such an exquisite climax. How would she ever be able to walk away from such pleasures?

Her lover was a comforting weight against her. He cradled her to his chest and simply held her. The warmth and contentment unfurling inside were something Lily had thought she would never know. How is it that she had been married twice and had been bereft of being held after intimacy? Her first husband had been such a sweet man, but bumbling and far too shy, and he had barely made love with her before he’d bought his commission. It had never occurred to her to cuddle up with him in their small bed. They had turned on their sides and watched each other with tentative smiles, but their young love had been too new and uncertain for them to take any further steps. Then the vicar … in the three years they had been married, they had been intimate only a handful of times, for it was sinful to lust, even in the confines of marriage.

She had never believed God despised the idea of fleshly pleasures, as the vicar had preached. After all, God had been the one to grant them such desires and lush sensuality.

Oliver moved, and she was too spent to peer back at him. She blushed as he took a cloth and cleaned between her tender folds and around to her bottom. With such care, she felt no discomfort, only a sense of awe.

Is he this way with all his lovers?

“How do you feel?”

Cherished . She turned her head, resting her cheek against the cushion. “Famished.”

There was an uncertainty in his eyes as he peered at her, and she hardly knew how to respond to it. The marquess had always seemed so arrogant and uncompromising. Her breath hitched as she realized he waited for some reaction that would possibly wound. Was it that perhaps they were more alike than she had thought?

“I loved every minute of what just happened,” she confessed softly.

Relief and approval glowed in his eyes. Lily’s heart lightened. Someone had indeed been repulsed at his brand of shocking sensuality and carnal leanings. Happiness flowered inside her that she had pleased him. How alike we are, but so far apart.

“I cannot marry you,” he said gruffly, tugging her to him. “But I need you in my life, Lily. This … whatever this is cannot end.”

“I do not recall asking,” she teased, pushing aside the soft ache in her heart. “I’ve no aspirations to be your wife. I am not ignorant of the fact that I have nothing to recommend me to the role of a marchioness.” He deserved a wife that would complement his position and background, and one that would most assuredly grant him children.

“Be my mistress.”

“Yes,” Lily said, shocking herself.

She couldn’t take back the word, for she wanted to be with him until this … whatever this was, burned out and drifted away like ashes in the wind.