Chapter 17
“Philip!” Grace kept saying his name, pulling on the back of his jacket as he marched off with her though it seemed to do little good. From this odd angle with his shoulder pressed into her stomach, she was carried away from the ballroom and toward the stairs. “Well, this is dignified,” she muttered in a whisper.
Still, he did not answer her.
“It’s not the way every wife goes to their wedding night, I imagine.”
“It’s the fastest way to get you to a chamber without another argument between us,” he said, wrapping his arm firmly around the crook of her knees as he climbed the stairs.
The heat of his words shot through her, as if he had touched her with fire. She clutched tightly now onto the back of his jacket, no longer fighting or squirming as he reached the top of the stairs.
She heard behind her the click of a door as he stopped walking then the scenery around her changed as he walked into a bedchamber. The purposeful step, the silence, all of it built to a tension that was both riveting and suspenseful.
Do I want this? Should I do as Tabitha said and refuse him?
Grace’s fingers released the back of his jacket as she considered the idea. If she refused to consummate the marriage, then one day, she could, in theory, obtain an annulment. There was just one objection to this possibility.
I am not sure I can refuse him.
“Philip — ah!” She yelped in surprise as she was suddenly flung back again. She landed on something soft and cushioning. She rose up on her elbows, looking around at where he had brought her.
It had to be his chamber. The dark and rich mahogany wood everywhere, coupled with the accents of bright white curtains on the four-poster bed and white cushions, suggested a masculine chamber. Even the chaise-longue she had been thrown on was of a more masculine taste.
All around the room, everything was neat and tidy. Every ornament had its place, and the toilette box was neat on a dressing table nearby. It was a stark contrast to her own chamber where she usually left everything just a little messy.
Philip stood before her. The sound of him tearing his tailcoat off drew her focus back toward him. He was staring at her with such heat, it was as if the last few hours hadn’t passed at all, as though he hadn’t been ignoring her all day.
“You expect me to do this now?” she hissed, moving back on the chaise longue away from him. He stalled when he saw her movements, folding his arms.
“Refusing me, wife?” he asked, his lips lifting into something of a seductive smile. It made her gut flutter, as if thousands of butterflies hid within her stomach.
“You have ignored me all day,” she countered furiously, climbing off the chaise longue on the other side and moving to stand. “It’s as if I have not existed, let alone existed as your wife.”
“Was what happened in the study not enough to give you a taste of tonight?” He shook his head, seeming amused by the idea. “Hmm, I thought it would be enough of a promise.”
“You have not said a word to me throughout the celebrations!” she said wildly. She walked around the chaise longue, intent on escaping him, when her usual clumsiness got in her own way. She tripped on the leg of the chaise longue and ended up flying forward, but an arm caught her firmly around the waist.
Flung around, Grace was back in Philip’s arms. He’d saved her from falling, only to pull her against him once again.
“And what would I have said?” he hissed. “That I was impatient for a wedding night?” His eyes grew hooded. “You know I’m a man of propriety. I didn’t fancy the scandal sheets tomorrow being full of the fact that I could not keep my eyes off my new wife.”
“I beg your pardon —”
“I needed distance.” He took a step forward, and she took a step back, his hands still on her waist as her palms planted themselves to his chest. “I needed to… behave.” Yet there was nothing in his expression or tone that suggested he wished to behave now.
He walked her all the way to the wall of his chamber. Flattened between him and the wall, she could escape no further.
I do not wish to escape. Not really.
Breathless, she looked up at him as his hips brushed hers. She chewed her bottom lip, wondering if he would show her again what he had shown her on that desk.
“I’m done behaving now,” he said sharply and bent toward her.
Grace didn’t even think of refusing him now. As his lips collided with her own, she kissed him back, fiercely. It was a tangle of tongues, a battle of domination, one that he won, and secretly, she was only too glad to let him win.
Deep down, Grace wanted to know what Philip could truly be like when this hidden fire within him was unleashed. When all signs of coldness in his countenance were gone and replaced with passion. She wished to indulge, to know him, to feel every part of him.
“Don’t stop,” she begged through his kisses as his hands started skimming down the curve of her hips.
“I have no intention of stopping,” he assured her, the whispered vow practically against her lips.
He kissed her again though it was faster, fiercer than before, and his hands moved quicker too. He reached for her skirt and pulled it upward, bundling it around her hips, the heavy train getting in the way though he didn’t appear to notice much or care. When Grace’s legs were exposed, she felt Philip’s knee against her own. He slowly slid her leg to the side, opening her stance wide.
Breathless, with her hands planted against his waistcoat, her stomach quivered as she felt his hands wander. His fingers went to the bare curve of her hips first, squeezing her softly. Then they reached down between her and the wall, squeezing her rear. She gasped into their kiss, allowing him to delve deeper still with his tongue.
That sound seemed to urge him on, for without much warning, his right hand reached around her, his fingers sliding against the wetness between her legs.
She longed to moan, to say his name at the renewed feeling of that pleasure, but it was impossible to do so when he was kissing her in such a way. She could only rock her hips against his hand, feeling both frustrated and overwhelmed that he would not touch her harder, that he would not move his hand faster.
Her body was quaking, that wetness between her legs practically flooding out of her, when he suddenly broke off, not only no longer touching her with his hand but breaking from their kiss too.
“You…” she muttered as he released her, leaving her wobbling against the wall. “You are the most infuriating man.”
“Not for long,” he whispered, reaching for his cravat. In one swift motion, it was gone then he reached for his waistcoat too. “Gown. Off.” He flicked his fingers.
She stood tall, her back rigid.
“I may have made a vow to obey you today in church, but did you think I actually meant it?” she murmured.
He smiled, seeming much more pleased by her words than he had anticipated.
“Very well,” he said huskily. He reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head. When his bare torso was revealed, Grace was fairly certain she had lost the power of speech.
She stared at him, marking all the lines of muscle in his chest, the hidden strength which he had kept pressed between neat suits for so long. Down the middle of his chest was one dark line of hair. It was masculine, emphasized by the strong line of his shoulders.
“If you will not take it off, then I will,” he whispered and reached for her.
Grace was suddenly turned around. She planted her palms onto the wall as the swiftness of Philip’s movements made her wetter still. She could no longer control her breathing as she felt him untie the laces at the back of her gown.
He tore it down her body, enough for her to step out of it, but before she could consider turning back to face him, he reached for her corset too, practically tearing the laces in the effort to get to her.
This is what he’s capable of?
The rough and readiness of his movements made her simply want to know more.
With the corset gone, she now felt him reaching for her chemise, when a sudden welling embarrassment took over her.
All she had ever heard about her body were bad things. Had her mother not told her repeatedly that she bore too much weight? That she should not eat as much as she did? That she was nothing to the slim and beautifully elegant figure of Tabitha?
These thoughts engulfed her, and she abruptly wrapped her arms around her body, keeping the chemise flat to her figure.
To her surprise, Philip didn’t keep pulling at the chemise. He stood behind her, bending down, his lips finding the space between the edge of her chemise and her neck. It was a soft and gentle kiss, startling in its tenderness.
“You are beautiful, Grace,” he whispered. “Don’t let anyone tell you any differently.”
How did he know? How did he know what I was thinking just because I held onto the chemise?
When his arms reached around her, he threaded their fingers together. Slowly, he urged her arms down from her body. It wasn’t demanding, far from it. The simple action, the softness of it, made a trust grow within her.
With him, I am safe.
She let her arms loosen at her sides then turned around to face him. His eyes were dark and hooded again. When he stared at her, he truly did seem to desire her in a way she had not thought would ever be possible for a man to look at her.
He took hold of her chemise once again though he waited this time, looking at her, watching for her assent. She raised her arms over her head, giving him that consent. He lifted the chemise off her in one swift movement, and with it, the speed that had been in him before was unleashed again.
He reached for her head, tangling his fingers in her hair and bringing her toward himself for a kiss. He pressed her bare body to his so that her breasts were flattened to his chest. It was a thrilling thing, the touch of bare skin together, though she could not indulge in it, for he was soon moving them again.
Grace was backed up, but rather than colliding with the chaise longue as before, she reached the bed. He laid her down upon it, leaning over her, so he still stood beside the bed. He hooked his hands around her legs and parted them, fast, drawing her to the very edge of the bed, so he could nestle his body between hers, reaching for her lips with his own.
The kiss was heated. She trailed her fingers down his chest then up around his back, exploring him, listening to her instinct of what to do. He seemed to love it.
When her fingers touched his chest, he rocked his hips into her, and when she curled her hands around his strong shoulder blades, he growled into their kiss.
Then he reached down between them. He slid his fingers inside of her again though this time, there was no fussy skirt to work around. He had complete access to her, sliding in two fingers, stretching her body. The feeling of pleasure erupted within her, making her moan into his kiss.
Then he pulled back from the kiss, just far enough so that he could watch her as he pleasured her.
“Philip,” she moaned his name, finding the sound falling from her lips repeatedly. “Please.”
Something lit up in his eyes. She had a feeling he rather liked it when she begged him in this way.
His other hand reached down to his trousers, and he unfastened them. He had to release her in order to lower the trousers down his hips and kick them away.
Grace lifted her head just enough so she could see all of him. Pushing aside her honey hair, which was now a mess, half falling across her face, she stared at him. The muscular legs went up to a perfect ‘v’ shape, and his length was far beyond what she could have imagined from all her reading on the subject of the anatomy of men. It was bigger than she had expected, standing to attention for her.
A little fear squirmed in her stomach. She didn’t want to stop, but she was now anxious about what was to come.
“Hold onto me,” Philip ordered as he bent over her again. Strangely, she had no objection to this particular order. She curled her arms around his waist and back, clinging onto him as he braced his hands on either side of her on the bed.
He brushed his lips against her own, the kiss soft, tentative, a mere tease as she felt his length begin to nudge her entrance. She raised her legs higher on instinct, desperate to know all of him now. Her movement seemed to change everything, for he slid into her fast.
The pain was sudden. She gripped around his chest hard, her head flinging flat back onto the bed. Her lips were captured by Philip in a firmer kiss.
She expected him to move, but he didn’t. He held this position, not rocking into her, just allowing her to adjust to his size. He pulled back a little from their kiss, moving his lips along her cheek and down to her neck where he kissed her again.
That sweet spot on her neck made the excitement grow. It was the same place where he had marked her on that carriage ride, identifying her as his own. Then she felt him playfully nip her again.
He’s doing it again. Marking me as his!
The pain was gone. With it, she rocked her hips into his experimentally, longing to know what more of this feeling could be like.
He drove his hands firmly down into the bed and raised himself up, no longer kissing her but watching her, watching what they were doing as he rocked himself into her repeatedly.
The feeling was much more intense than Grace had ever expected. It was the shock of pleasure, the intimacy, the way Philip looked at her as well as what they were doing which made it so overwhelming.
Neither of them stopped moving, not once. Her hands continued to explore him. Sometimes, her fingers trailed down his chest, other times, she gripped onto his biceps, needing to feel the strength hidden in his arms as he moved their bodies together.
His own hands were equally restless. He gripped her hair, toying with it sometimes, trailing it through his fingers. Other times, he held onto her hips, using them to rock into her more firmly. When one of his hands simply bore his weight against the bed and the other trailed across her breasts, she felt the pleasure grow tenfold.
He seemed to be adoring every curve of her. He squeezed her breasts, his fingers firm and exploratory. She squirmed underneath him, the pleasure of their connection growing exponentially now.
He seemed to sense it, for he bent down over her.
“Mine, Grace,” he said possessively in her ear then clamped down with his lips on her neck again in another one of those open-mouthed kisses.
She lost all semblance of being in control then. She felt her world slide sideways as he rocked into her and drove into an oblivion of pleasure. She was fairly certain she cried out his name, multiple times, as her body tightened around him. There were stars at one point, and she had no idea what she did with her hands, whether she gripped onto his arms or the bed, for they were unable to stay in one place.
“Ah,” his own moans started to change.
She was still coming down from her high, still trying to bear with the pleasure when she felt his hands drive more firmly down into the bed on either side of her head. He rocked into her fast, clearly hitting new realms of thrills himself.
He didn’t moan her name, but the sounds were overwhelming. He became more vocal, moaning as he had not done when they had first begun this dance together.
Then he stilled, his firm rocks coming to a halt as he bent down over her.
Grace couldn’t help staring down at their connection, thinking of what they shared, still basking in the warmth of him being inside of her.
“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” he said in a sudden husky voice, kissing her deeply again.
Far from pulling out at her once, as she feared he might now that the deed had been done, he tangled their limbs together. A rush of emotion shot through Grace as she wrapped her arms around Philip, holding him tight. Her hands toyed with his hair — the one part of him that was always messy. She made it even worse until it was a tangled mess.
When they pulled back from their kiss, his seductive smile was enough to make her long to do everything they had just done again.
“Not a bad first night as husband and wife, eh?” he whispered.
She laughed, shocked at the sudden warmth and happiness she felt. When that laughter rumbled through their connection, his smile grew broader, and he bent down to kiss her again.