Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The rest of the night passed in flashes. Now Sebastian knew he would have her, and had stated as much, the urgency seemed rather less. He enjoyed the state of her desire, knowing that she was waiting for the moment he would declare they were done and were leaving.
Then he would have a long carriage ride in the dark with her.
He would be able to tease her into a frenzy.
And so, they danced. He held her close, his hands ghosting over her arms and back, and she shuddered against him, needy and wanting. That was very much how he liked her.
After, he pressed a glass of lemonade into her hands. “Drink,” he ordered. “You must be thirsty.”
“I’m ready to return home,” she said, taking an obedient sip. Her eyes were beautifully dark in the light, and she looked like a figure out of a myth. Zeus, no doubt, would swoop down to seduce her in a heartbeat.
Sebastian would have fought him off.
There was no world in which he neglected to protect and defend his wife.
He had been joking earlier about ripping another gentleman’s arms off, but he would call him out.
He would forsake anonymity in order to preserve his claim over his wife, and he didn’t care if that made him a fool, because tonight she was a jewel, and she was his.
He smiled at her. “Not yet. Would you come so far to leave before the dancing ends?”
Her bottom lip pouted. “Yes.”
“Tough. Come on, dance with me again.” He leaned in close, his lips finding her jaw, and her breath hitched. How very delicious.
He adored the way she desired him.
This had to end, of course, and then they would both have to go about navigating the world without each other in it, but until then, he would have his fun—and he would make sure she did, too.
Once it was over, he would need to tame his possessive instincts, but that was a battle for another day.
They danced for hours, lust building with every small touch, until he felt as though he could hardly bear it, either.
Finally, when the masquerade began to wind down, people napping on sofas and talking in corners and eating dinner yet again to sustain themselves, when the darkness of night lifted for the cold light of dawn, Sebastian consented to have the carriage called.
He handed her inside, and they set back off for home.
An hour in the carriage.
What could he do?
Opposite him, Aurelia sighed, discarding her mask. “You know, I don’t think anyone saw us.”
“They didn’t recognize us, certainly.” He took her feet, eliciting a small gasp from her, and placed them on his knees. Her feet were small, her shoes flimsy, and after gently removing them and placing them to one side, he dug his thumbs into her arches. She moaned in appreciation.
“That feels… amazing.”
“I thought your feet might be tired after all that dancing.”
“I’ve heard some young ladies do this every night, and I frankly could not imagine.”
“You prefer a quieter life?”
“I enjoyed tonight,” she answered, weighing her words.
“And I would have enjoyed myself, albeit considerably less, even if you were not with me. But I enjoyed the experience as something novel I had never experienced before, and perhaps next year, if the fancy takes me, I should like to do it again.”
So different from Kate, who had always wanted to be the center of attention.
The diamond in the necklace. If everyone couldn’t see her sparkle, she didn’t see the point in her beauty.
It had never been enough that he witnessed it.
Their quiet life together, his responsibilities, had never been enough for her.
And here Aurelia was, telling him, in essence, that she would be content with that life.
With him.
His fingers stilled on her, and she peered at him in the darkness. “Sebastian? What is it?”
“Nothing.” He resumed his massage, sliding his fingers up her slim ankles to her calves, kneading the muscle there until she groaned. He hoped the coachman didn’t hear; it was one thing to be presumed to be taking his pleasure when he was, but entirely another to be thought he was when he wasn’t.
He was hard and aching long before he reached her knees, or the delicate flesh of her thighs, and by the languid way she sat, legs parted for him, he knew she was, too.
Still, he resisted touching her any further until they finally drew up to the carriageway to their house as the sun rose. Ordinarily, he would feel tired, but not now. Not when he had his wife to take to bed. There would be time for sleep later.
“Good morning,” he greeted Fellows as he led Aurelia into the house. “We will retire. Don’t send up Harlow.” He would not be needing his valet tonight.
“Very good, Your Grace.”
Aurelia giggled as she took him by the hand, leading him upstairs, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had been so eager for the act itself.
For a bedchamber, even. He could have taken her in the gardens if he’d been of a mind to, but she was an innocent, and he wanted the bed.
Wanted to lie her on the pillows and peel her clothes from her, one by one, until she was fully revealed to him.
He wanted to put his mouth on her and taste her sweet nectar. In the Pantheon, that urge had been so overwhelming, he’d quite nearly lost himself to it. So overwhelming, in fact, that the force of his arousal had compelled him to finish in his breeches like an over-eager boy.
Somehow, he felt no shame over it.
The moment the bedchamber door closed behind them, he pushed her against it and kissed her.
Relief at having her soft lips underneath his once again, and her body pressed along the lines of his.
She was all softness, all gentle curves and rounded shapes, and he caressed her breasts, needing to feel them against his palms. She stirred, gasping a little as he found her nipple.
So responsive.
He nipped her lower lip.
“Are you ready for this?”
“I’ve been ready for hours.” Her voice was practically a whine. “Don’t make me wait anymore, Sebastian.”
“Good girl.” He found the buttons at the back of her dress and made quick work of them.
Her gown dropped from her shoulders and pooled on the floor.
Under his gaze, her skin pimpled, but his eyes went straight to her breasts.
She wore a chemise, of course, but no stays underneath, and he could see the peak of her nipples against the material.
So few layers between him and what he craved most.
Then again, maybe it would be more fun this way.
Her gaze rose to his, both fearful and excited. Just the way he wanted her.
Still watching her, he lowered his head and took a perky nipple in his mouth, suckling on her skin through the material of her chemise, dampening it. She gasped again, her fingers falling into his hair and lacing through before tightening.
“That’s right…” he murmured, moving to the next breast. “Is this what you like? Tell me, my shepherdess. Use your words.”
“I—” He caught her hip with one hand, drawing her viciously against him to show her how very much he needed this. He throbbed in his breeches, but this time he would not embarrass himself.
This time, he would hold out until he was inside her, claiming her, making her his. She’d never had another man, and although it was possible that once they separated, she would find a lover, he would always be her first.
And she would always be his.
“Your words,” he rasped against the bare skin of her throat.
He licked her pulse, and she shuddered. “Tell me what you want, Aurelia. And I will do my best to make that happen.” He turned his attention to the other side of her neck.
“We’re in this together, my sweet. Your pleasure is my pleasure. Don’t be afraid to ask for anything.”
“I… don’t know.” Her head tossed, and he felt her knees buckle as he slid his hand to her thigh. Soft, thick thighs, and in between the thatch of hair that concealed her pearl. He caressed her through her chemise, and she whined in the back of her throat. “I just… know, I want more.”
More. He could work with that.
Sweeping her off her feet—eliciting a cry of surprise—he strode to the bed with his wife in his arms, and deposited her on the sheets. She lay on her back, gazing up at him beneath thick lashes, and this—this was everything he had ever yearned for.
Kate had always been a proud woman. Too afraid of embarrassing herself by admitting she had sexual cravings like every woman—her mother had taught her that being a good wife was to be demure. Paired with her insistence on being in the limelight, theirs had been a union doomed to failure.
Aurelia had no such reservations. There was such naked want in her eyes that he almost stripped her bare and sank inside her right then. He knew her well enough by now to know she would be ready for him—or as ready as a virgin could be.
But he wanted to make it perfect for her. He didn’t just want to claim her; he wanted to make it so she would never wish to lie with anyone else.
So instead of giving in to every ravenous impulse, he took his time, sliding her chemise up the silk of her thighs until it gathered at her waist. She watched him, barely breathing.
“I want to taste you,” he said roughly. There was a limit to his control; when he wanted, he struggled to make it sound as though he didn’t. “Will you let me?”
“Taste me?” Her eyes widened, and she glanced from his head to her exposed cunny. “There?”
“It looks perfect.” And it did, pink and slick, opening like a flower to him. “You’ll like it. And if you don’t, we can stop.”
He had tried with Kate a few times, but she had believed it undignified for a duchess, as though she were a performing courtesan and not a lady. But Aurelia had never been brought up as a lady, and he was counting on her curiosity to provoke her into giving the activity a chance.
Then, if he couldn’t please her, that would be a reflection on his skill.
He would not let that be the case.
“All right…” she whispered, her eyes glassy, sliding half-shut. “If that’s what you want.”
“I do.” He pressed a kiss to her inner knee. “I’ve been dreaming of this for days.”
A long, shuddering breath left her, and he stored that piece of information away.
So she liked it when he used his words, did she?
“I’ve dreamed of putting my head between your legs and licking you until you come all over my mouth, my shepherdess.
I’ve been dreaming of the way you taste and sound. You’ll be so good for me, won’t you?”
Her fingers fisted the bedsheets. “Yes.”
“And you’ll come when I tell you to?”
“I—” When he licked her inner thigh, she relaxed again. “I’ll try…”
“Good girl.” He licked a long line up her other thigh. She tasted delicious, thick with arousal, but he wanted to take his time, until she was dripping for him.
Slowly, he nosed closer, kissing her soft skin all the while, until her hand found its way to his head again, and he finally gave in to the pressure she placed on his scalp, leaning forward and pressing his mouth to her sweetness.
She tasted just as good as he had imagined. And at the first press of his tongue, she let out a long, low moan that filled the room and reminded him of how much he wanted her, yet again. When he entered her—
But for now, he would do everything to make her writhe with pleasure. And when she crested, he would ensure it was his name on her lips.