The Regency Season Collection: Part One. Кэрол Мортимер

       Chapter Seven

      Marcus’s erection surged up thick and long, and his heart began to beat a loud and wild tattoo in his chest as Julianna’s hands moved tentatively, and then more surely, to unfasten the buttons of his pantaloons.

      And again he worried that, after wanting her, desiring her, loving her for so long, he wouldn’t be able to retain control over the increasingly desperate need he felt to make love to her completely.

      The last thing Marcus wanted to do was hurt Julianna, frighten her with the depth of the passion he felt for her, as that bastard Armitage had so obviously hurt and frightened her in their marriage with his coldness and brutality.

      ‘Marcus?’

      Damn it, he could see by the uncertainty of Julianna’s expression, as she hesitated about folding down the flap of his pantaloons that would bare him to her completely, that she was already doubting the wisdom of her actions, that if he did not do something, say something soon to alleviate that uncertainty, she might cut and run. Perhaps, this time, forever.

      Her next words confirmed it. ‘If you would rather we put an end to our bargain now, I believe I have learnt enough to—’

      ‘I have no intention of putting an end to our bargain!’ he bit out, instantly regretting that hardness as he saw the way in which she flinched. ‘We made an agreement, Julianna,’ he reminded evenly. ‘And I am not about to renege on that. I hesitate only because—I know you have been married, Julianna, but the things you have said of that marriage have not... Have you even seen a man naked?’

      ‘Not John, certainly.’ She raised her chin determinedly at the enormity of her admission, at what it must tell Marcus of that loveless marriage. ‘But I saw my brother, Christian, in his drawers often when we swam together as children—’

      ‘I said a man, Julianna. Nor was I referring to his chest,’ Marcus added dryly.

      Colour blazed in her cheeks. ‘I—then no, no, I have never seen a man naked.’

      Marcus breathed deeply. ‘Or aroused?’

      ‘No.’ Her eyes were now wide grey pools of anticipation.

      ‘But you would like to?’

      ‘I—’ She moistened her lips with that little pink tip of her tongue.

      A tongue Marcus longed, ached, to feel against his aroused flesh. Just to think of it, imagine it, was enough to cause his cock to throb.

      ‘Yes,’ she breathed softly. ‘I believe I should very much like to see you aroused, Marcus....’

      His breath left him in a shaky sigh of relief. ‘Then do so, Julianna,’ he encouraged. ‘Fold back the flap of my pantaloons and look your fill,’ he invited gruffly.

      Julianna’s breath caught in her throat as she slowly did as he instructed. Her eyes widened as she looked at the length of his arousal, which jutted up thick and strong from the thatch of dark curls between his thighs, engorged veins running along the length of the pulsing shaft, the bulbous tip glistening with moisture.

      She found it impossible to look away from the beauty and the power of Marcus’s arousal. ‘I—will you touch it or shall I?’ she breathed longingly.

      ‘You do it,’ he encouraged hoarsely, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

      It was not exactly what they had decided upon yesterday, but Julianna was only too eager to reach out and touch that burgeoning length, instantly surprised by how silky the skin over that hard and pulsing flesh was, only vaguely aware of the way Marcus’s breath hitched in his throat as she wrapped the fingers of both hands around his length, a length that seemed to grow even longer and thicker in her encircling fingers. A bead of moisture escaped from the slit at the top, before it was joined by another, and then another, until it dribbled down that length to dampen the back of her hand.

      Fascinated, Julianna was too enthralled to feel embarrassed by this depth of intimacy as she brought that hand beneath her nose, breathing in deeply, the scent a pleasing and arousing mixture of earthiness and an underlying sweetness. Was this the ‘musk’ Marcus had spoken of?

      ‘It is the lubrication that is needed, along with your own, in order to make penetration easier,’ Marcus murmured gruffly.

      And not the painful business it had always been with John, Julianna instantly recognized. Because her husband had not taken the time to prepare her. Even on their wedding night he had just climbed into bed beside her, pushed up her night rail and pushed himself inside her, ripping through the thin barrier of her virginity, and eventually grunting his release, before leaving her.

      A cold and painful introduction to the marriage bed.

      And John’s member had been nowhere near as—as long as Marcus’s, or as thick, meaning it would surely take more than just their mutual arousal in order for Marcus to penetrate her without causing that same pain.

      But Marcus had not expressed a wish to penetrate her. By showing her these things, teaching her, he was merely fulfilling his part of the blackmail she had practiced upon him, nothing more. This blatant evidence of his arousal was how any man would react to having a young woman fondling him so intimately.

      Julianna released him abruptly before sitting back, only to stare down in fascination as that hard shaft pulsed eagerly upward while more liquid escaped the glistening bulbous tip.

      ‘He is asking for more,’ Marcus drawled ruefully, reluctantly refastened his pantaloons as he realized, as far as Julianna was concerned, this particular ‘lesson’ was over and he would have to deal with the results of that lesson himself once Julianna had gone.

      ‘“He”?’ Julianna echoed curiously.

      Marcus nodded. ‘Most men refer to their genitalia as a separate entity—probably because it has a will, a determination, completely separate from the logic of a man’s brain!’

      Which meant it was only Marcus’s cock that had just reacted to her touch, Julianna accepted heavily, not Marcus himself. No doubt it could penetrate her, too, take its pleasure, and feel none of the regret in the act the man—Marcus—most assuredly would. Because, she reminded herself fiercely, Marcus was only doing these things, allowing these intimacies, because she had forced him into it. He did not care for her personally, had no real interest in making love to her. And he was probably longing to be rid of both her and her ridiculous demand to be taught how to make love to a man.

      Julianna, on the other hand, had realized these past few days how much she desired Marcus in particular.

      Not just desired him but loved him.

      Had she always loved him?

      Certainly since the night of her eighteenth birthday, when he had danced the waltz with her at Almack’s, flirted with her, flattered her, before returning to his regiment just days later to resume fighting against Napoleon’s army. Julianna had mooned about for weeks afterwards, foolishly hoping that night had meant something to Marcus, too. That he might have fallen in love with her.

      Foolish, foolish hopes that had ended in heartbreak and hurt pride once she’d learnt