Chapter 18 #2
She knew his desire now, clothed or naked, the signs of it obvious in his smallest expression, inhale of air or pressure of his hands. Dorian wanted her, just as Rose wanted him. But why were things so hard between them?
The music of the waltz eventually faded but the sensual tension between them did not.
At Rose’s side, as he had promised, Dorian’s presence now created as much longing as reassurance although his touches were subtle.
When he pressed quick kisses into her hair or caressed her hip it was done quickly, as though he were trying not to but could not help himself.
The praise heaped by guests on the decorations, the musicians and the food at supper were pleasant enough, but nothing touched Rose as much as when she found Dorian’s eyes resting hungrily upon her and heard his whisper in her ear:
“I have never seen you lovelier than tonight, Rose…”
Almost at fever pitch as the ball went on, Rose despaired of understanding what was happening between her and her husband.
Their guests likely thought them a couple of typical newlyweds, entranced with one another and very much in love.
Rose was also quite sure that Dorian was not acting, at least with her. But nor was he being entirely open.
What was the truth? Was it that they were two confused people making the best of a necessary but unwanted marriage?
Was it that they were too different to one another to live easily together?
Was it that, despite Dorian’s worldliness and Rose’s romantic obsessions, neither of them fully understood the emotional complexity stirred when men and women lay together as closely as they had done?
As the sound of the last carriage rolled away and the tired servants were dismissed to their rest, Rose turned to Dorian in the hallway, her body throbbing and aching for the fulfillment only he could give.
The neckline on her dress felt tight and constricting, even more so when her dark haired duke abruptly began dropping kisses on the swell of her breasts above it.
“Take me to bed now,” she demanded, her voice imperious but catching in the back of her throat with need.
Dorian obeyed immediately, lifting Rose into his arms with ease and carrying her up the two flights of stairs to her bedroom, his breathing ragged with lust and exertion by the time they arrived.
As soon as they were through the door, his hands and lips were all over her and Rose tore frantically at both Dorian’s clothes and her own. Shoes were kicked off and hair pins scattered at random on the floor.
“Take it off, take it off!” she pleaded as her own fingers failed to unfasten the bodice of her dress.
Surely it had not been so tight when it was fitted before her wedding? Rose supposed it was only that it was new and unfamiliar, and that she so desperately needed to feel Dorian’s touch on her naked skin.
In response, his deft fingers made short work of the dress and underskirts, while her own hands managed to push away Dorian’s jacket and waistcoat. Rose heard the fabric rip as she pulled at his shirt and stock and soon they were on the floor beside her dress.
The intoxicating scent of the duke’s woody cologne and hot male skin filled Rose’s nostrils as he caressed her breasts with both mouth and hands. Then his palms were about her hips, her buttocks and her stockinged thighs.
“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, you must take me, Dorian. You must!”
“I shall,” his voice almost growled. “God, Rose, you are so beautiful, and you are mine, aren't you..?”
“I am yours,” Rose moaned, her hand now resting and pressing over the substantial bulge at Dorian’s groin that spoke of his need in fullest measure.
Unfastening his trousers and undershorts, Rose pushed the fabric away and then caressed that manly shaft with her hands.
“Beautiful, beautiful Rose,” he groaned, fondling her breasts once again and kissing her lips.
“Do you know how much I want you, Dorian?” she breathed. “You must know.”
In reply, his hand dipped and his fingers ran the full length of the slippery folds between Rose’s thighs.
Of course he knew. He could feel her desire as she felt his.
But if so, why had he kept from her for so long, for no cause?
The organ in her hand throbbed eagerly, far simpler to understand than the man to whom it belonged.
Rose dropped down to her knees and kissed the head of Dorian’s shaft before engulfing as much of him as she could in her mouth, licking and suckling as he had taught gave him pleasure.
She heard her name cried aloud and felt his fingers catching in her hair.
It gave Rose a strange sense of power to please her husband like this, although she knew it was only transitory.
Dorian’s appreciation was vocal and his fingers massaged her head in encouragement as she worked.
Would he let that stream of salty seed spurt into her mouth tonight, as he had done occasionally before?
Rose was torn between driving him over the edge with her present oral caresses and the ache of own slit, longing to be filled.
“You turn,” he said gruffly before the crisis point was reached, drawing Rose back up from his now-glistening shaft and pushing her back onto the bed.
Strong hands pushed open Rose’s thighs and Dorian’s mouth began teasing the skin above her stocking tops and the golden fur of her mount of Venus.
Only when Rose was whimpering and writhing did his tongue renew its acquaintance with her inner folds and then seek the firm little button at the top of her slit.
Several times then, Dorian drove Rose almost to her peak before drawing briefly back. The tension of it was almost unbearable.
“Please, Dorian, please! I need…”
This time, Dorian did not stop as the climax of pleasure approached and Rose heard herself scream wildly as the spasms of it passed through her. Her sensations were excited to an even higher pitch by the hard, hot organ that Dorian now pushed deep into her womanhood.
“My Rose,” he growled, hands sliding under her buttocks to pull her closer and penetrate as deeply as physically possible. “My Rose…”
One more thrust was enough to undo him in his present state of excitement and Rose felt the rhythmic pulsing of his rod against the background of her own internal quivering.
“We should get into bed,” Dorian said after some minutes had passed in their present position, their eyes locked on one another and bodies still conjoined.
Rose squeezed him with the thighs wrapped tightly around his waist to hold him inside her.
“I don’t want to let you go,” she admitted ruefully.
Dorian stroked her face, tender and honest again in painful contrast to the cold distance he had shown all too recently.
“Well, if I promise to do that again, can we get under the covers?” he suggested with good humor.
Laughing at herself a little, Rose nodded and unwound her legs, allowing Dorian to disengage and then roll both of them under the covers. She nestled there against his broad chest, listening to his heartbeat but wondering whether he would still be there when she awoke the next day.
“You did believe me about Lord Gillingham, didn’t you?” Rose asked Dorian. “You know it was nothing really, only a childish dream, like all the books I used to read.”
Dorian smiled and shook his head, holding her more tightly for a few seconds.
“It was ridiculous for me to be jealous of Lord Gillingham, even for a single moment,” he told Rose. “That man wouldn’t even know what to do with a woman. Admiral Turnbull however…”
“I don’t want him either,” Rose stated immediately, turning her face up towards him. “I only want you, Dorian.”
“I know,” Dorian admitted, his lips stealing kisses from hers with that strange mix of desire and reluctance she had sensed in his touches in the ballroom earlier, as though he was trying very hard, and failing, not to want her.
“How strange everything is!” Rose sighed.
“I used to think marriage would be so simple, like the end of a story, with everyone living happily ever after. We all thought that once, Josephine, Madeline and I, although Madeline was never so romantic as Josephine and I. We all made a vow once to find our ideal husbands and presumably live happily ever after.”
“Romance,” remarked Dorian dismissively but not unkindly. “It is indeed a fairy-tale for the half-grown. I can live only in the adult world, the real world.”
“Yes, I know that. But this is something real, isn't it?” asked Rose, her hand resting over his groin and feeling his shaft twitch again under her palm as her mouth sought his. “Everything feels so real when you are beside me, or inside me.”
Dorian rolled above her and entwined his fingers in hers.
“You cannot know what you do to me, Rose,” he told her and kissed her into breathlessness once more. “You cannot possibly know.”
The second time he took her that night was so long and slow and sensuous that Rose felt she had fallen into an erotic dream that would never end.
Her pleasure peaked like slowly rising water, engulfing and flowing over her so gradually that she didn’t realize it was coming and feared it would drown her.
When Rose awoke in the morning, Dorian was indeed gone, and the side of the bed where he had lain was as cold and empty as her freshly breaking heart.