Sexual Hunger. Melissa MacNeal
he’s more a slave to you than to any convention or tradition. May I wash your hair, darling? You know how I love to lose myself in it.”
Just that quickly Jude had shifted from the world of his privileged upbringing into the intimate realm that centered around her. Like his twin, Jude wore his hair carelessly raked away from his slender face, reminiscent of a windblown angel’s wings. And when he grinned, his close-clipped mustache glimmered in the low light. But there the likeness ended. As night differed from day, Jude Darington ruled an earthier universe where his love of sensory indulgences—his joy in creating pleasure—filled his every waking hour.
“Yes. Please do.” Although she lounged against the back of the tub, concealed by the dense, scented soapsuds, Maria’s bare body tingled beneath this man’s avid gaze, anticipating what he’d do to her as the hours of the night flew by.
“Good of him to give you the butterfly before he left. It looks as lovely against your bare skin as I envisioned while I was making it.”
His voice had dipped into that lower register that made her even more aware of his scrutiny, his intentions, on this night before she married his brother. “Thank you so much, Jude!” she murmured as her fingers found the jeweled pendant. “Never have I seen such a combination of colors and stones! I’m wearing it tomorrow, instead of Jemma’s pearls!”
“Thank you.” His whisper was a grateful prayer that wrapped around her heart. “May I interpret that as a declaration of your affections? As your unspoken vow to…continue our relations after tomorrow?”
Was that wistful desperation in his plea? Did he wish he had proposed to her before his twin had? It wasn’t a question she would ask aloud, for the glow in his tawny eyes told of a love deeper and truer, in its way, than the declarations Jason made at the drop of a hat. “I certainly want to continue,” she murmured. “Has your brother said anything to the contrary?”
Jude shook his head, smiling as he lifted the pendant from her chest. He shifted it, watching light from its jewels play against the wall. “As long as Mum remains unaware of our arrangement—and as long as Jason produces an heir—all requirements shall be satisfied. But not nearly as satisfied as you shall feel by the time I leave here tonight.”
His quiet promise rang in the small bathroom and in every fiber of her being, for Jude Darington did indeed know how to please her. She shifted beneath the warm water: Jason would’ve been squeezing her breasts, squirming as he freed his erection, yet this man lingered over the details. Made her wonder. And wait. And anticipate. He cupped her chin with his damp hand, to gaze at her with adoring eyes, and she melted. While her mind told her this triangular relationship might be their undoing if—when—someone caught them at it, her heart sang the words to the sensual song Jude inspired every time he came to her. By unspoken agreement, one twin was never present when his brother made love to her or accompanied her in public. It seemed a convenient way to make people believe she spent her time only with Jason, the man she would marry tomorrow.
Right now, however, Jude Darington was reaching around her head to let down her hair. Pins pinged to the floor and her raven waves fell around her shoulders, section by slow section. He smelled of old cognac, not because he drank it but because he patted it on his face after he shaved. His silk shirt whispered seductively as he scratched her scalp with his fingernails, easing the tension at her temples…taking his sweet time and thoroughly mussing her hair with his tender massage.
Her head fell forward in submission. “I love what you do to me, Jude,” she whispered.
“And I love the way you let me do it.” He cradled her head in one hand and gently pinched her nostrils shut. “Ready?”
Maria curled her legs against her body so he could submerse her completely. He brought her back up then, stroking the wet, heavy waves of hair out of her eyes. With practiced ease, Jude poured her shampoo into his palm and rubbed his hands together. She felt warm and limp and submissive as he massaged the rich lather from her scalp to the ends of her hair. Her head again lolled forward as he cast his spell, caressed and manipulated the muscles of her upper back with slow, knowing strokes.
A sigh escaped her. She felt so completely pampered and spoiled. Cherished.
“Shall we rinse and move on to other delights?” he murmured. “I brought you a surprise.”
And how had he done that? When she’d seen him in the driveway, his hands were empty—
“Magic,” he answered. Again he held her head and nostrils, grinning at her. “It’s my mission to keep you guessing. Down you go.”
As Maria allowed him to dunk her head beneath the water, she realized how much she trusted this man. Even as he held her under for a few seconds longer than usual, she felt the playful vibration of his chuckle: Jude didn’t have a mean bone in his body. She surged to the surface then, sputtering and gasping, laughing with him as she filled her lungs—and then became breathless again, in a different way.
Jude framed her wet face between his hands and kissed her, tenderly at first, nibbling at her lips to make her giggle. With a low moan, he settled in for the longest, most relentless kiss she could remember…as though he wanted her to wish she’d be his, come tomorrow. With only the power of his affection, he held her captive against the back of the tub. His mouth plied hers eagerly, restlessly, and then retreated to the point she thought he’d allow her to stand and dry herself.
But no! Jude launched into another lovely, languid kiss that nearly made her cry with its exquisite pressure…the dance of their tongues as though he might pleasure her all night…the melding of their sensibilities and their souls.
He at last broke away, to gaze raptly at her. “If I can’t be your husband, I want to be your port in a storm: the man who listens to your complaints and whims and brings you resolution.”
Maria blinked. He appeared so serious, sounded almost ominous. “I—”
“Life amongst us Daringtons won’t be a rose garden, darling,” he continued quietly. Still he held her head, his eyes afire with a golden flame, as though he burned for her on this night before her wedding. “And at times when Jason must carry on in the name of duty and honor, as the firstborn, I hope you’ll allow me to be the comic relief, or the sexual release, or the answer to whatever you pray for. May I aspire to such things, at least?”
Again he’d left her speechless. This man, so talented with gemstones and camera, paintbrush and piano—any artistic endeavor he undertook—was asking to be her fool. A slave to her desires. Maria nuzzled his palm, hoping to find words as lovely as his. “I would like that, yes,” she whispered. For a moment, only the soft lapping of the bathwater filled the little bathroom. “While I love Jason with all my heart, I would grieve deeply if something happened to you and if we were forbidden to spend time together. Does that make me a whore? A wife without conscience or scruples?”
“I think not. But then, I’m biased.” Jude laughed softly. “Jason and I have agreed that a woman like you—a lover with such diverse and intense passions—is probably best satisfied by having two admirers. We know damn well that if you chose, you could exhaust us both and move on to the next man. So we’ve agreed to please you at every turn, in every way. A challenge, but we shall rise to it.”
Maria’s gaze dropped. Yes, indeed, this man’s trousers were tented, yet he made no overt move to satisfy his need. “What if I got out of the tub, and you got out of your clothes—”
“All in good time, dear lady. First we shall dry you, so your skin doesn’t crinkle like Mrs. Booth’s.”
Her grimace made him laugh as he reached for a towel. “Hard to believe, but Quentin claims she drops her drawers. Invites him in.”
“See there? We should never judge a book by its cover—even if it looks like it’s been left out in the rain.” Jude stood beside the tub, offering his hands to help her stand. “You’ll be the same way when you’re her age, darling. Insatiable. A vixen on the prowl.”
“Is