Chapter 10 #4
“As you wish,” he whispers into my ear before tossing me upon the bed.
I bounce among the remarkable abundance of pillows and am about to scamper down the other side when he joins me on the bed and seizes my wrist.
“Where, pray, do you intend to flee, my lady? The night grows quite late.”
“Does it, my lord?” My voice is so filled with desire my own ears detect it.
“It does indeed.” His gaze rakes me up and down, and I am keenly aware I am only in my shift.
Heat surges to fill my face, but it is not unpleasant kind.
He moves his hand to my shift, but the moment his hand is upon it, he grows still. “May I?”
“Yes,” I breathe. It is the word I should have said from the moment he inquired of my longing.
His Grace is gentle as he lifts my shift over my head. When I am laid bare, no secrets between us, I grow quite still. But the fire in his gaze as he looks upon my naked form holds no rebuke—it only warms.
“You are… exquisite,” he breathes.
I smile, and though our kisses have not felt shy, I am so now. But he lies me back and looms over me, and I have more important things to think of. First, the feeling of his lips upon my cheeks. Then the soft press of them upon my eyelids—each in turn.
My heart surges against my breast with frenzied beating as his lips move to my breast. Then he envelops my nipple in his warm mouth, suckling until I nearly come apart.
I reach out and entwine my fingers in his hair.
This only spurs him on, and he switches breasts—suckling one while his fingers pluck at my other nipple until I writhe beneath him.
“Your Grace,” I gasp, but soon I have no air as his fingers travel down, sliding over my stomach. I cannot wait any longer—I need him inside me. I splay my legs, closing my eyes as wetness spills from my sex onto my thighs.
He does not seem to feel need to hasten, and his lips continue at a leisurely pace, pressing fire-tinged kisses wherever they descend.
It is wonderfully maddening. His tongue circles my belly button before plunging inside.
“You taste exquisite,” he breathes before resuming his journey down my body.
“Please, my lord,” I murmur.
With his bare hand, he skims down my leg. “Please, what? Come now, tell me what you wish me do, my lady. Do not be coy.”
“Can we…” I hesitate, hoping he will see my longing without my having to speak.
“Yes, my lady?”
Perhaps he can read my expression, but if so, he refuses to set me free. I groan inwardly. “Can you…” I press my hands to my hot cheeks and realize I am still wearing my gloves. My surprise makes me giggle.
“What amuses you, my lady?”
I hold out my hands and wiggle my gloved fingers at him. “It would seem you have forgotten something, my lord.”
“Ah, indeed. Allow me to remedy my error at once.” He locks eyes with me as he removes my gloves, one at a time, and it would be impossible to miss the hunger in his gaze.
“Please, I do not wish for you to take your time, my lord. I am in great need,” I force the words past lips that do not wish to set them free.
The duke regards me with intense fervor. “As am I, my lady, but for this, our first time—”
I sit up, take his hand, and place it where I desire it most—between my legs, upon my most intimate part, and splay my legs wide, holding nothing back from him.
“You truly wish to hasten me so?” he murmurs, swirling a finger around my sex, his touch whispering across the opening of my flower without truly entering.
I arch my back, pushing my sex toward him as a whimper escapes my parted lips.
He chuckles, and I feel my womb tighten at the sound—there is no denying the arousal it causes. “As you wish, my lady.”
But before I can feel exuberance, or apprehension, he is tugging me to the edge of the bed. “My lord, what—”
He cuts off my question by sinking to the floor.
“Your Grace? I do not—”
He continues to move me toward the edge, and before I can finish my query, I feel his mouth upon my sex. First, his breath—hot and stimulating, making me keenly aware of how stirred I have become.
“Your Grace, please, I—” The moment his tongue touches the bud of my flower, I have no idea what I meant to say. Whether a protest, or a request for him to hasten, I can no longer recall. My hands grasp the coverlet, fingers curling around the fabric in a fragile attempt to hold myself steady.
It is a challenging endeavor indeed. As his tongue circles my bud, his hands grasp my legs. It is enough to make me come undone. I do not know if I wish him to stop, or hasten it along.
Regardless of what I may wish, His Grace seems disinclined to make haste.
He appears eager to take his time as he works his way inside my delicate flower.
Each swipe of his tongue causes me to stiffen, but a rush of pleasure follows.
Though he does not hurry, his tongue moves often enough to make speech impossible.
He delves deeper still, until I can scarcely maintain a thought. His facial hair has begun to grow in again and scrapes delightfully between my thighs. But as soon as I become aware of it, his tongue moves inside my sex, and renders me incapable of commenting on the matter if I wished to.
It is a strange position, but the way my body responds is even more peculiar.
My bones grow stiff, yet it feels most delicious indeed.
At the start, I swallowed nearly every gasp, but now I set them free, unable to trouble myself with disguising them.
The feelings he creates within me are terrifying and exquisite, for I have never been so overcome.
There is a tension building within me—a tension I do not understand, that I cannot help but fear. I try to stop His Grace, but I cannot find my voice except to gasp and moan my pleasure. His tongue flicks my precious bud, and another moan spills from my lips.
“Please,” I rasp, though I cannot name my desire.
My lord husband does not pause to inquire.
He continues his ministrations, one hand on each of my legs, keeping me parted for his entrance.
His tongue moves faster, then faster still until my hips rock back and forth.
The genteel part of me that is aware of this is scandalized, but the remainder floats toward the heavens and cannot be troubled with what happens down below.
“Ooh! My Lord!”
His tongue quickens, and as it moves inside me, it becomes a lash I cannot escape. He whips my sex with his tongue, and heaven save me, I can do naught but writhe under the delicious torment.
“Oh! Your Grace! Your Grace, if you do not stop, I shall—”
He pauses his furious lashing to utter a single word. “Good.”
His voice is so full of authority, when he resumes his strokes with his tongue, I fall apart, exactly as he meant me to.
I scream as I never have before. I shout with abandon as pure, delicious rapture consumes me. Then the world goes black and soft and still.
I am unaware of how much time passes before I come to. Only that when my eyelids flutter open, I become aware of my head on the bed of pillows as I curl into my lord husband.
Turning my head, I see that he is not sleeping. He is, in fact, watching me with a soft, loving gaze.
I blush and curl in nearer to hide my face.
“Did you enjoy that, my lady?”
“Y-yes, Your G—” I stop and sit up, realizing something else. “You…you removed your tunic.” My eyes rake his body, and my hand flies to my mouth—but too late to conceal my surprise. “All your clothes, in fact.”
His mouth curves. “Indeed, I did.”
I drop my hand back to the bed and huff.
“What is it, pet? I thought you well satisfied—do not look so petulant.”
I scowl at the duke, though it does nothing to stop the amusement that plays along his features. “I wanted to do it.”
“Careful now.” His silken tone does not disguise the warning in his tone. “I would wish the rest of our time to be about pleasure. But if I must chastise you, do not doubt I shall give the matter my utmost attention.”
A shiver seizes me, and my tender hindquarters ache. “Forgive me, my lord. I only meant…I should have liked to…” I stop short, unsure of how to address the matter.
“You need not be shy or genteel with me, wife.” The duke reaches for me and pulls me down beside him. “What is it you wish?”
“I… I would like to… remove your clothing… when we next, ah… express our love.”
“Ah.” The duke smiles warmly and moves his hand down my shoulder and onto my waist. “I shall be most pleased to grant your wish.” He leans nearer and presses his lips against mine, sealing the promise.
When he breaks the kiss, he holds one of my curls in his hand and begins to wind it around his finger.
“Perhaps you might consider granting one of mine?”
I am a bit breathless from the kiss, and amazed my body seems to long for him again so soon. “Yes, my lord? Anything.”
His smile grows. “I would be delighted if you will call me by my given name—Gregor.”
“Gregor,” I test it out on my tongue, and cannot help but smile at the delight that washes over his face. “Of course, my lord.”
“Or, perhaps ‘Daddy’ when you have been naughty.”
Something about the way his eyes dance at me, or perhaps the word ‘naughty’ makes my stomach fall. “I have never heard it before,” I admit, wondering if he sees the confusion within me displayed on my face. “What does it mean?”
“It’s a word naughty little lasses use when they need to make amends—when they are going to receive their chastisement.”
Another shiver steals over my body, but rather than pull away, I fold myself into his embrace. Gregor pulls me closer to him, letting his naked body provide the warmth I so crave.
“Am I in trouble now?” I peek up at him.
“No, my pet, but knowing you as I do, I suspect it will not take very long.”
I shake my head. “I still ache! I shall be very well behaved, I assure you!”
He laughs at my insistence. “Do you?” He moves his hand down my waist, and he seizes a handful of my backside and gives the sore flesh a squeeze.
“Oh, Your Grace!” I mewl, curling into him.