Bad Boys Ahoy! Read online

  Sebastian slid his hands up her straining back, lifting her night rail as he went, licking along the curve of her spine. "Sweet Olivia. Obeys Daddy without question, but inside, she longs for a wicked man to ravish her." His voice dropped to a husky murmur. "A pirate perhaps?"

  She gasped and bucked against the scorching heat of his erection. "Please… don't tease…"

  He stroked the burning skin of his wife's bottom. Pressing a hard kiss to her cheek, Sebastian pulled back when she turned her head to capture his mouth. "I won't be gentle," he warned. "I'm not capable of it now. Tell me to stop if this is not what you want." He slid halfway inside her dripping channel, shuddering as he fought to walk away if she asked.

  She writhed beneath him, her long nails leaving scratch trails in the velvet counterpane. "Hurry, damn you!"

  "Don't swear," he growled, then rammed his cock balls-deep into her.

  Olivia cried out in agonized pleasure as Sebastian buried himself to the hilt within her, the force of his thrust shoving her hips hard into the edge of the mattress. He withdrew immediately and plunged again, stretching her almost beyond bearing. She felt a complete wanton, with her feet resting on the floor, her legs spread wide to better accommodate his frenzied thrusting. She was helpless, a stationary vessel for his lust.

  He reached down and wrapped his fist in her hair to hold her still while he fucked her. The hard tugging on her scalp as she moved under his fierce pounding only goaded her excitement. "I love you," she gasped.

  "God… Olivia…" His rhythm faltered, his cock burning hot as it stilled within her.

  "I love you," she repeated, shuddering beneath him as he swelled until it was almost painful. Lord above, he was massively built. She was so aroused, cream leaked from her body, causing a sweet sucking sound as he pulled out of her. She thrust her hips back, sliding her body back onto his shaft.

  "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he groaned, his thighs quivering against hers. "You like me at your mercy and desperate for you." Sebastian pulled out and then pumped back into her again, his fingers digging with bruising force into her hips.

  "Yes, my love," she moaned. "Be wild for me."

  And he was.

  Pleasure built impossibly fast, the tight, heavy weight of his balls slapping repeatedly against her, until Olivia thought she would go mad with it. Her eyes slid closed as her entire body began to tremble.

  Sebastian growled, and she felt the hard jerking of his cock as he began to come in scorching bursts against her womb. The hand at her hip moved between her legs and began a frantic rubbing against the hard nub that ached for his touch. She groaned at the wracking pleasure, face buried in the counterpane, spurred by the feel of his hot semen flooding her womb and the skilled swirling of his fingers against her. Incredibly his pace increased, and she flowed without pause from one orgasm into another. When he finally collapsed against her back, Olivia was certain she would be unable to move for days, just as he had threatened.

  It was several moments before his crushing weight lifted from her. Cold air chilled the skin so recently heated by the press of his body. Somehow she found the strength to reach back and clutch his wrist. "Don't leave me."

  Sebastian's calloused hand caressed her hip as he rose. "Allow me to undress, sweet."

  She turned to face him, noting his averted gaze and guessing the cause of it. "I'm fine."

  "I was rough," he muttered.

  "Do you regret what just happened?"

  He shrugged out of his coat, then went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat. "No."

  Olivia pulled her gown over her head and discarded it. "Then cease acting as if you do." She crawled under the covers and rolled to her side, listening to the sounds of her husband disrobing.

  "Do you regret what you said?" he asked in a near-whisper.

  She hid her smile in the pillow. "No."

  His hard body curled behind hers, his mouth pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Lacing her fingers with the ones he held against her stomach, she fell asleep.

  Later, she woke to the feel of Sebastian's hands roaming her curves, his body hot and damp behind hers. His skilled fingers slipped between her legs, dipping into her sex coated with his seed, and stroking until she moaned with desire. His mouth found the lobe of her ear. Helpless with pleasure, she arched into him.

  His voice was gruff as he breathed in her ear. "Say it again."

  "I love you."

  Adjusting her hips, he slid into her from behind, filling her completely. He thrust within her, slow and luxurious, his hands kneading her breasts and rolling her nipples with his calloused fingertips. She begged him to hurry, but he continued to move with lazy strokes, whispering raw, carnal words that goaded her passion to a fever pitch. When he finally allowed her release, it stunned her with its force and she cried out, her fingers clawing at his. Sebastian stiffened behind her and then flooded her with heat, his velvety voice gasping and moaning her name in the darkness.

  Sated, he held her tightly to him. "I'm sorry," he breathed against her skin. "I would not have done it."

  Olivia didn't misunderstand. "I couldn't bear to share you."

  "You never will, I vow."

  Dawn intruded around the heavy velvet curtains when Sebastian reached for her again. She rolled into his embrace by instinct, half-asleep yet sensing how much he needed her.

  "I'm so sorry," he whispered brokenly. "I don't deserve you."

  "Shhh…"

  "Tell me again."

  "I love you." And her heart ached for him, this beautiful, wonderful man who'd had so little love in his life that he would beg for it from her. "I love you, Sebastian."

  With her eyes closed, Olivia relied on her other sleep-hazy senses-smell, taste, touch. Every hard plane and ridge of her husband's body was so familiar to her questing fingertips. He whispered to her, incoherent sounds that made her feel safe and cherished. She tugged him closer, her need as fierce as his, until he rose above her and blocked out the whispers of light.

  He anchored her thigh over his hip and thrust skillfully inside her. Over and over he brought her to climax, knowing her pleasures, understanding her wants as only an expert and attentive lover could. She could feel his tenderness spreading through every touch, every lunge. Giving a startled cry, Olivia felt the rapture wash over her, through her, and into Sebastian, who shivered against her and gave a low, pained moan.

  Olivia woke hours later and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Her left hand felt weighted, and she looked at it, coming to immediate wakefulness at the sight of the massive sapphire that graced her ring finger. Her heart tightened. She didn't have to look around to be certain.

  Sebastian was gone.

  As he threw open the door to his father's bedroom, stealth was not the primary goal in Sebastian's mind. Olivia's scent rose up from his skin as his blood heated with fury. His father had deliberately set out to destroy his wife to attain his own ends. Sebastian would not tolerate it happening again. His father would know that for a certainty in a moment.

  He watched with grim satisfaction as his father shot up in the bed, startled by the sound of the door banging against the wall. The marquess glanced around with wild eyes.

  "Hang it all, Sebastian! What is the meaning of this?"

  "How fitting. The last morning we met was much like this, only it was I in the bed and you the wrathful figure in the doorway." The memory still made the bile rise in his throat. He smiled with wicked intent as his father paled. "Ah… so you see my purpose." He leapt onto the bed and pinned his father down, his hand forming a vice around the marquess's neck.

  He would not leave his wife at the mercy of this monster.

  "You are fortunate that I have no desire to be a marquess, or I would kill you now and be done with you."

  His father's eyes bulged from the face that so resembled his own. What an odd bit of fate that was. Edmund had looked like their mother, sharing her reddish hair and moss green eyes.

  "Sebas-For God's-" Dunsmo
re struggled like a man gone mad, his hands scratching at Sebastian's wrists, drawing blood, his legs kicking convulsively beneath the counterpane.

  "Listen." Sebastian dropped his face to within inches of his father's. "You will stay away from my wife. Do not approach her for any reason. If I discover that either you or Carr went within seeing distance of Olivia, I'll kill you." His fingers tightened further, until his entire hand ached with the force he exerted. Then he released his father and moved off the bed.

  The marquess rolled to the edge of the mattress and cast up his accounts on the Aubusson rug. "I-I'll… cut… you off…" he choked out, his stomach heaving.

  Sebastian laughed derisively. "If only that were possible. But everything is entailed except for your money, and I have no need of it. Spend it, burn it. I don't care."

  His father spat on the floor.

  Sebastian headed toward the door. "Remember, Father. Stay away from my wife."

  After making the appropriate arrangements for Olivia with his solicitor, Sebastian stood on the deck of the Seawitch, watching the London skyline shrink as he left England behind. Like a coward, he wanted to flee the mess that was his family, and he fought the temptation to give in to the urge. It would be so easy to leave all the ugliness and never return, to escape the life for which he had no desire and find freedom elsewhere. But he had Olivia now, and he would suffer any ordeal, accomplish any feat, journey anywhere, as long as he could have her and be with her daily.

  He must free himself of his past-release his men, make arrangements for his ship, and sever his ties with the Robidoux brothers. He wasn't certain how he would survive the upcoming weeks without his wife, but it was too dangerous to bring her with him.

  As England faded from view, Sebastian knew he would return as soon as he was able.

  He'd left his heart behind, and he could not live without her.

  Olivia barely made it through her morning toilet, consumed as she was by a dull, aching emptiness. She'd been so certain she could convince Sebastian to stay, or to at least take her with him, but part of her was not surprised that he had fled. It was a long-standing habit with him to run from his troubles. In his youth, he'd used drink and women to escape. Later, he'd used the sea and, for a time, her body. But apparently she hadn't been sufficient.

  She'd stay in bed if she could, wallowing in the linens scented of his skin and their lovemaking, but her father was here and she had to attend to him. Olivia couldn't conceive how she would manage to survive the day, but the effort had to be made.

  In the dining room, she filled her plate from the covered platters on the sideboard. Then she preceded the footman to the parlor, where her father sat reading his paper.

  "Good morning, Livy," he greeted jovially.

  "Good morning, Father." She pressed kisses to each of his rosy cheeks, then moved to the small table and chairs in the corner. When the footman set her plate and juice on the table, she dismissed him with a smile.

  "You look positively lovesick," her father commented. "Are you that pleased with your husband?"

  "I… yes." She had been, before he broke her heart, but she would never tell her father that. There was no way he could have foreseen what would occur when he endeavored to marry her into a title. And truly, wasn't this mess her own fault? She had known how Sebastian was when she'd determined to keep him. Only her own foolishness had allowed her to hope for more.

  "I have to say, I had my doubts when I first saw him," Jack admitted. "I know his type, wild and unruly. Not the sort of spouse a father would choose for his only daughter. But after speaking with him this morning-"

  Her pulse leapt. "You spoke with him this morning?"

  "Yes. We ate breakfast together. He doesn't appear to be the scapegrace I first thought, though he has the looks for it. His handling of the situation last evening impressed me. He appears to be very protective of you, possessive even. I like that. He's also astonishingly well versed in seamanship, seems not the least put-out with my work in trade, and… well, anyway, I found I liked him much better than that cousin of his, the one I thought was Lord Merrick."

  Olivia stifled a groan at the reminder. As if she hadn't enough problems of her own to attend to, she was now inextricably bound to the rest of the Blake family, and what she'd seen of the brood so far left a marked distaste in her mouth. "Did Merrick mention his plans to you?"

  Her father folded his paper and looked at her curiously. "He said he left you a note. Didn't you read it?"

  She was out the door in a moment, shouting for the butler. He came running out, panting with the effort to make haste. But he knew nothing of a note, so she lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs. She found a chambermaid making the freshly changed bed.

  "Morning, milady," the young servant greeted with a quick curtsy.

  "Did you find a note for me?"

  The girl nodded and moved to the end table, returning with a slip of folded parchment.

  Olivia murmured her thanks and retired to her room to read the missive in private. It was simple and heartbreaking.

  Trust me. I will return.

  Yours,

  S

  She sank to the floor and cried.

  Chapter Six

  London, England, June 1813

  Stifling a yawn, Olivia perused the ballroom with a jaundiced eye. The event was a crush, therefore the room was hot and, despite the profusion of flowers, smelly as well. She had no desire to be here, but Dunsmore had insisted she attend.

  One would think that the last four months would have wrought some change in their feelings for one another, considering how closely they worked together to ensure her social success. But such was not the case. She detested the horrid man as much today as the day she had first met him. Unfortunately, left to her own devices, she'd had no recourse but to seek out the marquess's assistance. She required his support to establish herself as Lady Merrick. Without him, the social acceptance that was due her would have been denied her.

  Personally, Olivia cared nothing for the Beau Monde's regard, and if she'd had any choice, she would have remained at home and licked her wounds in peace. Her child, on the other hand, deserved a proper start in life, and it was for that reason alone she feigned interest in Polite Society.

  Her hard work was rewarded with unequivocal success. Even Dunsmore was impressed, and she'd sensed an almost imperceptible softening in his attitude toward her. He would be thrilled to learn that she was enceinte and that all of his machinations had the desired outcome, but the knowledge was too precious to share. She suspected he would take a perverse pleasure in obtaining the knowledge before Sebastian, and she refused to give him the satisfaction. It was the final act of kindness she would ever bestow upon her errant husband.

  She'd been devastated when he left, weepy and despondent. Then she'd turned furious.

  She remained furious.

  Olivia set her glass of lemonade on the tray of a nearby footman before she snapped the delicate stem in half. Sebastian had broken his word, left her to fend for herself among the wolves while he ran from his troubles. She would never forgive him for that. Never.

  "Trust me," he wrote. Ha! He refused to trust her. Why should she be the only party in their marriage to extend such a simple courtesy?

  "My lady, would it be too much to hope that you still have a dance available?"

  Olivia turned at the sound of the familiar drawl, eyeing Carr Blake with a sigh. The man wasn't truly evil like his uncle, just misguided and easily led. Regardless, she kept a close eye on him and maintained a rigid distance from his friendly overtures. The man had set out to deceive her in the most heinous manner imaginable, and that was an offense she would never forget. Still, she had appearances to maintain, and one of them was a feigned closeness to the Blake brood, distasteful as they all were. "Certainly. The set after next."

  His blue eyes gleamed with excitement. "I am a fortunate man."

  Again she was caught by the resemblance between Carr and Sebastian
. They were very similar, both boasting shining black hair and startlingly blue eyes. But the resemblance was merely superficial. Carr was more like an exuberant puppy, while Sebastian was more of a panther on the prowl.

  Olivia rolled her shoulders back and forced a smile, since most eyes were on her. Her relentless pursuit of the height of fashion had been a large part of her success, an expensive accomplishment achieved through her husband's largesse.

  She sighed audibly. She would gladly have given up everything if it would have won her Sebastian's love. But it was too late for that now.

  "Lady Merrick, I believe this next set has been reserved for me."

  Olivia turned. "I believe you are correct, Monsieur Robidoux."

  The dashing Frenchman bowed elegantly over her proffered hand. His golden beauty had won him wide regard with the members of the ton. It did nothing for her, but she flashed him her best smile.

  He grinned as he escorted her to the gathering line of dancers. "You are even more ravishing tonight than usual, my lady."

  She arched a brow. "Thank you, monsieur."

  Robidoux had been brazenly forward with her since arriving in London a month ago, suggesting strolls through the gardens or drives in the park, all of which she refused. She braced herself at every meeting, his determination to be alone with her making her decidedly uncomfortable.

  "Lady Merrick," he purred in his unctuous voice. "The Dunsmore title is an old and respected one, I've been told. And yet the earl who inherits it is not in attendance. In fact, no one has seen hide nor hair of the man in over five years."

  She laughed-part in amusement, part in exasperation. The gossips were rife with speculation about the whereabouts of her husband. After all, it was odd for a missing man to suddenly acquire a wife. It was because of this unusual circumstance that Dunsmore's assistance had been necessary to establish her credibility. "I assure you, Lord Merrick is not a figment of my imagination."