CHAPTER 11

THALIA STAYED IN THE glorious-smelling bath until the water turned tepid. Not only was the aroma of the bath salts delicious, but the soap provided by the inn was also a delicate rose fragrance that intoxicated the senses. She had never enjoyed such a decadent, luxurious bath.

As she dried herself with the nice soft towel, she looked at the extra shift she had packed for this trip. It was a plain, serviceable white linen garment with no embellishments of any kind. What would the marquess think of it? Of course, there was no way she could have expected this evening when she set out after her sister this morning, but still. Maybe she should forgo the shift and wait for the marquess completely naked in bed?

The image tantalized her for a second, but she wasn't brave enough, or comfortable enough, with her body to await the marquess in the nude.

She was reaching for the shift, which she had draped over the back of a chair by the bath, when a key rattled in the lock and the door swiveled open. She gave a little shriek of surprise as she ineffectively tried to cover her nakedness with the towel.

The marquess walked in, dressed only in a shirt and trousers. His gaze grew intense and focused on her body as he slowly and deliberately locked the door behind him without taking his eyes off her.

"Drop the towel," his deep voice uttered with uncompromising command.

"No! What are you doing here? I'm not ready yet," she hissed, tugging and pulling on the towel, attempting to cover as much of her body as she could.

He didn't stop his advance towards her, his eyes roaming the contours of her body. When he stood in front of her, he put one finger under her chin and lifted her face towards him. The intensity of the desire in his eyes thrilled and scared her at the same time. She licked her lips. His nostrils flared and his gaze focused on her mouth.

"You look ready for me. And I'm more than ready. Drop the towel, Thalia," he repeated while his thumb caressed her lower lip.

A little whimper escaped her at the caress, but her arms clutched the towel more fiercely than ever. "I can't."

"Sure you can. It's easy enough. Just release it."

"But then you'll see me naked," she hissed.

His eyes darkened, and his voice lowered another octave. "That's the idea."

"My body is overabundant," she said, looking down, her face flaming in shame at having to confess.

God, this man was gorgeous. He was a mountain of muscle and a face like a Greek god. How would he feel when he uncovered her doughy roundness?

"Yes, it is," he rasped. His voice sounded strangled, pained. Was he going to back out? She would die.

"S-so you see. It is better if you leave so I can put on a shift. And we should dim the lights," she added desperately.

"Not a fucking chance."

"What?" She had never heard a man swear in her presence. Was he angry? Maybe he felt cheated. Was he already regretting bedding her?

"I want to see every luscious curve. I want to feast my eyes upon you."

The next instant, his big hands went to the edge of the towel, his gaze holding her captive as he dragged it down. The towel dropped to the floor, revealing her huge breasts and the rest of her. She knew what he would see. A soft, rounded stomach, hips that flared too wide. Thick, dimpled thighs. And that was only from the front. From the back, her arse was grotesquely big. She turned her face to the side and closed her eyes. Too afraid to see his expression.

But when a few seconds ticked by with barely a response, she dared to peek at his face, and what she saw entranced her. There was pure undisguised lust in his eyes. Even as inexperienced as she was, she could identify the emotion.

His big hands cradled her breasts reverently and lifted them. Then he dipped his head and buried his face in the crevice of her decolletage, drowning a groan so feral it made her center go liquid with want. He glided his tongue up the line between her breasts, then rubbed his cheek in the pillowy softness, chafing her delicate skin.

She would have abrasions in the morning. But she didn't mind. She wanted him to mark her. To leave signs of his possession. She might never have another man as magnificent as this one willing to make love to her.

"I love your breasts. I want to kiss them, bite them, suck them until you scream for mercy. Tell me, my muse, how does this feel?" And he closed his lips over her nipple and pulled.

The sensation that shot from that point to her core was so powerful that a shocked moan escaped her mouth. Her knees buckled, and she had to hold on to his shoulders to keep her balance.

"Oh, you liked that, didn't you?" he said as his strong arms circled her, supporting her. "I wonder if I can make you come just from sucking your nipples?" he mused. "It would be a fair exchange since I want to fuck your breasts, and I think I could come just from that."

"What?" She didn't know what he was talking about, but it sounded naughty. And oddly arousing.

He smiled tenderly. Or as tenderly as this hard, uncompromising man was capable of. "Oh, darling. I'm sorry. You are such an alluring temptress that I keep forgetting how inexperienced you are."

Was he mocking her? Her ears flamed, and she knew she was turning scarlet.

"I'm sorry that all the men you have met until now were such unmitigated fools that they didn't appreciate the beauty hidden beneath your frumpy gowns. But I can't be sorry to be the first one to discover it. I feel like a fucking conqueror arriving in uncharted paradise. My bollocks are about to explode just thinking about all the ways I want to have you."

She didn't know how to reply to that. Her vocabulary did not include appropriate responses for the carnality in his voice.

"The things I will do to you..." he went on, as if thinking aloud. "I'll leave no inch of your body unexplored. I'm going to take you in every single way known to man. I will debauch you so thoroughly, my muse."

Her mouth had gone dry, and she moistened her lips with her tongue. He groaned.

"Oh, don't do that."

He took her mouth in an almost violent kiss. His mouth conquering, claiming, and then plundering hers. She had the urge to do the same. Her teeth closed over his ridiculously lush lower lip, and he groaned, grinding his pelvis into her. The hard ridge of his erection was unmistakable, burning hot, branding her; the fabric of his trousers arousing against her nakedness.

Finally tearing his mouth from hers, he rasped, "You are a tempting minx. Did you know that?"

She shook her head. In all her life, nobody had called her tempting anything.

"You are. And the crazy thing is you don't know it. You are not even doing it on purpose. God help me if you ever learn to seduce."

His hands roamed her body, from her shoulders, all the way down her back to cup her overabundant bum. Why had she allowed him to do this? Except, nobody allowed this man to do anything. He just took it. Like a conqueror. Would he let her preserve any modesty?

Apparently not. Taking her hands, he gently pried them away from her body. Revealing her in all her naked imperfection. She closed her eyes in mortification. He was an artist. Used to feminine grace and beauty. The statues she had seen all had lithe bodies and perfect proportions. Unlike her.

Never in her life had she wanted to have a slim, elegant body more than at this moment. She wanted to be perfect for this man. Because his body was perfect. He was perfect. But his next move surprised a squeal out of her.

He went down on one knee and kissed the patch of dark auburn curls at the juncture of her thighs. Then ran his tongue up the crease between her thighs and her hips. The caress surprised a ticklish chuckle out of her, and he smiled, pleased.

"Oh, my muse. You are magnificent. Your body was made for love. It is a shame to cover such perfection with clothes. I want to sculpt you like this." The side of his mouth hitched in an amused smile.

"Although, on second thought, displaying you thus would surely cause a riot. And I wouldn't want any other man to see your naked body. Your beauty is for my eyes only." He rose smoothly, running his hands possessively over her torso.

"You are teasing me. Nobody is going to riot over me. Nobody ever paid any attention to me, other than to mock me."

"That, my dear, is about to change."

He swept her up in his arms in a smooth movement so elegant that it seemed effortless. She tensed, horrified that he had lifted her again. But he carried her to the bed as if she weighed no more than a babe. Depositing her in the soft sheets, he stood back to finish undressing.

Thalia forgot her modesty, the breath catching in her throat as the marquess removed his shirt, revealing a lovingly sculpted torso. Each muscle was defined and firm, from his broad shoulders down to his chiseled abdomen. His skin, kissed by the sun, glowed with a golden hue, contrasting strikingly with the silvery hair that fell around his face. Light and shadow played over his chest, highlighting the mountains and valleys of his physique.

He dropped his hands to the waistband of his trousers, and with eyes fixed on her, started undoing his fly buttons one by one. She couldn't look away, the expectation building in her almost too much to bear. When he had unbuttoned his trousers, he pushed them down together with his underwear, revealing the robust tower of his member. It rose straight up towards his belly, ruddy and engorged.

Her mouth hung open in an unflattering gape. She hadn't known it would be that big. In the sculptures she had observed, the member was small and unthreatening. That thing would not fit inside her. It would tear her apart!

Her alarming thoughts must have shown on her face, for he smiled. "Don't worry, I promise I'll be gentle. By the time I put this in you, you'll be ready and begging for it."

Taking his member in his hand, he made a strong fist and stroked, coming towards her. She wanted to run scared. Yet his magnetic pull was so strong that it drew her closer instead. The rhythmic strokes of his hand on his own flesh were weirdly arousing. She rose on an elbow.

"Want to touch?" he asked, holding it towards her.

She did. His anatomy, menacing as it was, held a weird fascination over her. She reached out and brushed her fingers over the flared crown. So smooth. She didn't know such soft skin could exist anywhere in this big, hard man. Encouraged by his grunt of pleasure, her fingers grew bolder. Contouring, tracing, closing over the turgid flesh.

He groaned aloud this time, his hand moving to close over hers, tightening her fist much more than she would have done on her own.

"Yes, that's it. Hold me tight."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. Your hand on my cock feels amazing. There, you got it. Keep doing that. You do that so well," he encouraged, pumping his hips into her fist, then letting go of her hand.

A droplet of milky fluid collected on the slit. Acting on pure instinct, and before she could think it through, she leaned in and lapped it up.

"Oh, good grief!"

His exclamation had her jumping back in alarm, releasing his member. What had she done? Was he angry?

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that."

His eyes seemed to warm as he beheld her. "Don't be sorry, my angel. I'm the one who should apologize. That was incredible, but unexpected. You caught me by surprise and almost made me spend, that's all."

"Don't you want to?" She thought that was the whole point of this.

"Oh, my sweet darling. I do. But not yet. Not until I have worshiped every inch of your gorgeous body and have given you the release at least three times."

"Three times?"

It was a testament to his effect on her that what caught her attention was that, instead of his absurd flattery. Was she beginning to believe him? His body certainly spoke of unbridled desire.

"At the very minimum," he said as he climbed onto the bed and pushed her back.

He fell on her breasts like a ravening wolf.