Sexual Hunger (2 page)

“A
arrrrrgh! Naughty wench! There’s no help fer yer wicked soul save to tie yer pretty arse to the mast and spank it! Like
so
!”

The
smack!
of Jason’s hand on her bare bottom made Maria squeal and clutch the bedpost. Blindfolded, with her wrists bound to the bed by his red bow tie, she laughed and then cried out again as he playfully slapped each half of her backside.

“Do ye repent of yer lewd and lascivious ways?” he teased near her ear.

“And what fun would
that
be?”

“Are ye sorry fer baitin’ poor Quentin? Leadin’ him astray with yer feminine wiles?”

“No! Never!” Maria squirmed with need as his warm breath tickled her neck. How she loved it when he took her captive! Jason kissed her relentlessly, until her knees went weak. As he wrapped his hot, bare body around her from behind, his erection throbbed between her thighs, preparing for entry.

“I thought as much. Ye’ve had yer eye on me young butler ever since ye met him!” He claimed a breast in each hand and held her firmly against his chest. “There’s no help fer ye then, save to let Blackbeard have his way with ye. Plunder and pillage, it is! Assume the position, lass. I’m comin’ in!”

Her moan joined his in a lusty duet as Jason entered her, bending her forward over the bed to find the best angle. He thrust into her fully, until she thought she might die from the exquisite pressure when his long cock found that sensitive spot deep inside her; held her absolutely still, with her eyes squeezed shut beneath the blindfold. Her jaw dropped in a silent scream. This man knew precisely how to control her, how to bend her to his will with his skilled finesse.

When Maria thought she might faint from the mounting suspense, the sharp sensation of feeling nailed to the bedpost, Jason eased his cock out until its tip tickled her rim. Then he began to rock, slowly and rhythmically…in and then out…in and then out, until they breathed and pulsed as one. The pace between them quickened as
need
overtook the urge to play.

“You drive me mad with hunger, woman,” Jason rasped against her neck. “I swear it was all I could think of from the time I arose: your hot, sweet cunt swallowing my cock. Poor Blackbeard finally stayed so hard for so long, he nearly got severed by the seam of my trousers. I had to leave the office because I could sit no longer! Were it not for my suit coat, everyone would’ve seen I was a man about to shoot like a cannon.”

Maria held her breath to keep from crying out. All the while he talked, Jason was stroking her wet passageway, quickening the pace. “I—I hope we’re not agitating poor Quentin with our noise,” she rasped. “And Mrs. Booth! She looked appalled when you grabbed my hand and we went flying up the stairs—”

“They’ll have to live with it, my love,” Jason purred. His lecherous laugh reverberated all the way down her spine. “It’s why Mother insisted we live here rather than at Wildwood, you know. Our amorous outcries would be the undoing of her prim and proper sensibilities—not to mention an education for young Jemma. But why are we talking about
them
?”

He leaned her farther down, slapping his thighs against the backs of hers in his urgency. Gasping her name in a frenzied whisper, Jason stiffened—and then cut loose in a series of shudders and moans.

Maria clutched the bedpost. Like a whip her climax snapped inside her, surging into a cataclysm of clenching muscles and inner spasms. On and on it continued, until her lover had spent himself inside her. She was vaguely aware that Jason untied her wrists. The two of them landed in a sweaty, heaving heap on the bed, still a-tingle from nerve endings teased beyond tolerance…laughing and kissing and sucking in air until they could breathe normally again.

“God above, but I love you, woman!” he whispered reverently. He removed her blindfold so she could see the adoration in his smile. “Who else would play my pirate games? Who else
excites
me so much that I feel sorry for the chaps coming tonight to bemoan the last of my bachelorhood?”

Maria yanked off his eye patch and then coyly widened her eyes at him. “I don’t know.
Who?
”

Jason held her in a long, glorious hug. What a man he was, all taut body and smooth skin, large enough to wrap himself completely around her like a cocoon. With a bandanna still tied rakishly on his head and a slender mustache that shimmered whenever he grinned, Jason looked the part of the pirate he often played when they made love: randy and powerful in a way that always made her pulse skitter, even after he’d sated her.

“You’re incorrigible!” he muttered into her hair. He inhaled deeply, sighing his appreciation. “And in my haste to plunder your fine body, I nearly forgot something! Check the pocket inside my suit coat.”

Prickling with curiosity, Maria slipped off the tall bed to find Jason’s jacket among the garments strewn around the room. When she fumbled beneath its lapel, her fingers felt a fine mesh chain…a flat, shaped piece of metal, cool and smooth on one side…pronged and bumpy on the other. As she pulled it out, its brilliance made her gasp. “Oh, Jason! Jason, it’s—it’s so beautiful! And you know how I love butterflies!”

Her fiancé rolled to his side to watch her with a lazy grin. “A gift for you on the day before we wed, sweet Maria. I told Jude to spare no expense when it came to the stones. Did he choose well?”

Holding the pendant up to catch the light, Maria could only gaze in disbelief: if Jason’s twin had fashioned this exquisite piece, these colorful gems were genuine. Never in her wildest dreams had she hoped to own such stunning jewelry. “What have I done to deserve such—”

“Deserve?” Her beloved bent his arm to rest his head on his hand. “You’ve shared your heart and soul with a man whose only thought was of his next adventure; a man who spent his days avoiding matrimony. Until I met
you
.”

Fully stretched out, naked, with his dark chestnut hair in disarray beneath his bandanna, Jason Darington was the picture of a rakish aristocrat whose ambition burned behind his shining brown eyes. Or was that a love like she’d never hoped to know, glowing like the stones his brother had so expertly arranged for her? “Thank you, Jason, but this piece must’ve cost you—”

“
Nothing
, compared to what you have given
me
, Maria.” He smiled sweetly. “In the years to come, I hope you’ll realize my family’s wealth and possessions are merely…decoration. Window dressing.” Jason rose from the rumpled bed to take the pendant from her. With utmost care, he fastened it around her neck and then steered her toward the cheval mirror. “Now
here’s
a picture worthy of Matisse or Renoir! True wealth of spirit and affection, without a stitch of clothing or pretense to hide behind!
You
, Maria. Simple, yet simply
everything
to me.”

She swallowed hard. Fixed her eyes on his in the glass, praying the devotion she saw there would never waver. “You could have chosen any woman you fancied. Certainly a more socially acceptable—”

“
Acceptable?
” His finger drifted along the column of her neck before following the pendant’s chain to rest directly above her heart. “Pay no attention to my mother’s blather about one’s station in life, or what passes as acceptable in her circles, Maria. You’re like this butterfly: free and uniquely beautiful, because you follow no one else’s preconceived ideas about love and marriage. You came to me—gave yourself to me—expecting nothing in return. Have you any idea how
refreshing
you are?”

She smiled shyly, only now allowing herself to relish the gemstones that shimmered in the hollow of her collarbone. The butterfly’s body curved slightly, in beads of onyx. Lustrous sapphires and rubies formed the lower wings and then swirled into spiral antennae. Diamonds and blue topaz made the upper wings seem to flutter when they caught the afternoon light. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

“Then I’ve performed a miracle! I’ve left you speechless!” He brushed his lips against her temple. “I hope you’ll accept this pendant as a token of the love I intend to rejoice in every day, for the rest of my life.”

Jason grinned wickedly, cupping her breasts. “And to think I could have been sailing off on one of Father’s ships to once again lose myself in Jamaican rum, island women, and gambling! No, thank you!”

Maria’s lips curved wryly as she thrust into his caress. “That
is
a miracle.”

“That’s what Father said. Jude is just damn thankful I haven’t gotten myself killed during some of my wilder forays,” he added with a chuckle. “Nothing he fears more than bearing up under the mantle of family responsibility, you know. In his way, he’s every bit the vagabond I am. Just indulges in more artistic pursuits.”

“And he’s very, very good at it, too.” She teased her fingertip along the prongs of the butterfly’s jeweled wings. “I’ll wear this tomorrow, instead of the pearls Jemma loaned me. Your mother will fuss, but—”

“My mother has a chest of jewelry that rarely catches the light of day. So many exquisite pieces she’s demanded over the years, as payment for Father’s perceived shortcomings.”

“What a shame! And what a sad commentary on their marriage.” Maria’s hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry! It’s not my place to judge or—”

“You hit the nail on the head. And your outspoken honesty is one more reason I love you,” he murmured. “It’s also another means of defying their authority when they insisted I marry on
their
terms. So you’re perfect. Absolutely perfect for me.”

Once again her throat tightened with emotion. While Jason Darington often showered her with compliments and encouragement, this afternoon was a rare treat: his words shone as brightly as the jewels he’d just given her. Maria watched him dress in a fresh shirt and suit then, openly admiring his fine body, his casual donning of the Darington wealth and its trappings. Would she ever forget her meager years of scraping by, looking after her younger brother, when their mother’s untimely death had left them alone on foreign soil?

Or was this a dream? A vision that would disappear like morning mist in the bright light of day?

“Have a good time tonight,” she offered.

“Oh, my friends will see to that.” He deftly tied a fresh necktie and then folded his shirt collar over it. “I’m only succumbing to tradition, spending this evening at the club to avoid loving the night away with my bride. Not that I give a damn about tradition.”

Maria smiled. She smoothed the broad shoulders of his serge suit, a houndstooth check in shades of umber and cinnamon. “You look very handsomely put together—”

“Jude chose the fabric. Says it complements my eyes.”

“—except your hair looks like, well—a pirate’s, after he’s romped with a wayward lady.”

Jason laughed and checked his reflection. “I should leave it this way. Give the boys something to speculate about, eh?” He swept a comb through his chestnut hair as though good grooming was the farthest thing from his mind. “There. Better?”

“Until I get my fingers in it again, it’ll have to do.”

“Can’t happen soon enough.” Jason bent to kiss her, quickly taking her beyond a going-away peck into those realms of passion that once again had her succumbing…surrendering. With a sigh, he released her. “Damn. Better get going before Blackbeard overrules my better judgment.”

He strode briskly toward the bedroom door and then turned to gaze at her. “By this time tomorrow, I’ll be the happiest man alive because you’ll finally be mine, sweet Maria. Pleasant dreams tonight, love.”

As his boots beat a rapid tattoo on the stairs, Maria’s body prickled with a premonition.
Ecstasy and joy juxtaposed with excruciating pain. Loss of love and life as you now know it.

“Oh, stifle yourself, Rubio!” she muttered. While she had a glimmer of second sight now and again, Maria preferred to let her renowned brother be the medium—and sometimes
one
bearer of future tidings was too many. She watched out the window until Jason’s horse-drawn carriage rolled smartly into the street. And then she listened.

Stillness. A hint of baking beef wafted up from the kitchen, but otherwise the town house felt deliciously peaceful.

Maria gathered up the skirt she’d stepped out of before Jason could feel how heavy it was, to pluck the letters from the deep pockets she’d sewn into its sides. Quickly she crossed the bathroom that adjoined their separate bedchambers, grateful this house had been built with a master and a lady’s needs in mind. Jason intended to sleep with her every night, but having her own room made it easier to keep the one secret no one but her brother knew. Still, it would be a challenge to carry on her career in the presence of a husband, not to mention the servants—

Was that the swish of skirts in the hall?

Maria yanked open the bottom drawer of the armoire, cringing when it creaked. She dropped her mail into it. Was shoving it shut with her foot when someone tapped lightly on her door.

M
rs. Booth poked her head in. “Will you be dining downstairs to—Lord A’mighty, Miss Palladino! You’re quite nude!”

Something in her rose to the old biddy’s challenge, despite the way she’d pay for it later. Maria turned to give the housekeeper a full frontal view of her body. “Not really! Would you
look
at this pendant Jason gave me? Isn’t it the most exquisite—?” She swayed toward the door as she spoke, until Mrs. Booth stepped into the hallway and shut it briskly behind her.

“Lady Darington has graciously provided you with dressing gowns and all manner of nice attire!” the housekeeper’s voice sliced through the door. “While it’s
apparent
you are ignorant of proper conduct, Quentin and I have been ordered to
humor
you until the family can instruct you in—”

“Yes, I find this quite
humorous
,” Maria mocked under her breath.

“—deportment expected of titled society! So when you’ve made yourself decent, you may come downstairs for your evening meal!” Mrs. Booth railed. “And by the powers, I’ll inform Lady Darington she should hire you a maid immediately! To preserve the propriety and decency associated with the family’s fine name!”

So tempting it was, to fire back with Quentin’s tales of Ruthie Booth and her improper propositions! But while she was the outsider here, she was no fool: Dora Darington and her adolescent daughter, Jemma, had repeatedly warned her against such
common
behavior, reminding her of her
lower
station at every opportunity. “Thank you, Mrs. Booth, but I prefer to spend the evening before my wedding in silent meditation.”

The housekeeper coughed pointedly.

“Praying for the grace and fortitude to rise into the upper crust from such a humble upbringing,” Maria continued wryly. “It’s probably prenuptial jitters. Every bride gets them, they say.”

“Prenuptial jitters, my arse! You won’t be getting away with such talk—and such carousing in bed—after tomorrow, Miss Palladino!”

“And neither will you be eavesdropping and tattling, Mrs. Booth. Not to mention using such a
tone
. Thank you for thinking of my needs. Good evening.”

Ear to the door, Maria waited until the housekeeper’s footsteps descended the stairs. Had she overstepped? Perhaps baited the sanctimonious old biddy beyond her tolerance? She understood now why Jason insisted on ruling his roost! Asserting his rights as the heir to the Darington title and estates! Once they lived here as man and wife, no housekeeper would be telling
her
what was proper or acceptable!

The thought warmed her. She opened the tall doors of the armoire to gaze at the billowing ivory gown she would wear tomorrow, when she would become Jason’s wife—acknowledged by all as
his
, and therefore a Darington, with all the privileges that came with such prestige. After tomorrow, stodgy Phillip, Lord Darington, and his socialite wife could do nothing further about her
deportment
…her lower rung on the ladder of life. Although they’d say anything they pleased when guests weren’t present.

But for now, in the privacy of this chamber overdecorated in candy pink and sunshine yellow—at Jemma’s insistence—she could finally read her mail in peace. It might be days before she had the chance to answer these letters, to pen the paragraphs her editor—her readers!—eagerly awaited.

Maria opened the drawer more carefully this time, and then rubbed its edges with a bar of soap to silence its squeal. She carried a fat handful of letters to the window seat and then reclined on its plump pillows to rip open the envelopes. Her eyes raced across the handwritten lines of one missive after another:
so hoping you can respond personally to my plight…have enclosed an envelope for a reply that must remain absolutely private…would be most pleased to provide the unbelievable details of my sister’s sordid affair…as I live and breathe, you are the woman my heart yearns for….

She sighed. While her position as social observer and advisor to the lovelorn had its rewards, it wore her thin at times. So many lonely, needy people vying for her time and attention. So many readers of elevated social circumstances wishing to see their gossip in print, and therefore considered gospel by thousands of subscribers. She settled more deeply into the cushions, absently fingering the butterfly pendant and wondering how she’d juggle the inner life she shared with so many readers, now that she was about to marry a man with whom she’d spend her
apparent
life. Would there come a time when she could reveal her occupation to her husband? Didn’t wives share every little dream and secret with the one they loved?

Jason will feel slighted. He intends to be the center of my world.

True enough. Jason Darington, heir to his father’s title, estate, and shipyards, was a fine, feisty lover. A man to be seen with and adored. But he did
not
understand taking second place to
anything
.

Maria sighed. A movement caught her eye on the driveway below and she gazed intently through the lacy curtains: the man approaching the town house could have been Jason, except he wore a flowing poet’s shirt tucked into his fitted trousers. He kept to the shadows of the nearest buildings, using the dusk to his advantage. And damned if he didn’t gaze up at her window, as though he knew she’d be watching for him!

Jude! Her body prickled. Logic told her no one could distinguish her naked form through the camouflage of the curtains, yet his sly smile suggested otherwise.

How would he enter the house without alerting Mrs. Booth to his presence? Unlike his brother, this Darington—younger than Jason by mere minutes—felt no compulsion to make an entrance or otherwise attract anyone’s attention. He moved through life in total contentment as long as he was free to pursue his artistic projects. Those who speculated about Jude’s inclinations toward men obviously didn’t know him the way
she
did, but he allowed such rumors to be his social smokescreen.

Why wasn’t he attending the bachelor party?

Maria gathered the letters from the floor and stuffed them back into the armoire drawer. She padded into the bathroom to twist the spigots of the tub and then liberally sprinkled the water with her favorite lime-scented bath salts…the ones Jude had given her upon hearing she found floral scents overpowering. Stepping into the frothy water, she listened for his footsteps on the stairs.

Moments after she turned off the water and relaxed in the high porcelain tub, her bedroom door opened. Her visitor could’ve been a cat slipping in on velvet paws—at least until his low chuckle gave him away.

“So you
were
in the window. Dare I believe you were waiting for
me
, Maria?”

She glanced up languidly, immersed in the soothing, scented water. “Believe what you will, Jude,” she teased, “but
I
believed you’d be at the club with your brother, toasting the demise of his freedom.”

Jude sat on the rounded rim, letting his fingers drift through the iridescent froth. “Why would any man choose a stuffy old club that reeks of his forebears’ cigars, when he could be drinking in such a sight, such alluring scents, here with you?”

Maria smiled slyly. “Because he was expected to be there?”

“Because 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?”