Chapter 7 #2
It was as if he had read her mind. Everything within her was a maelstrom.
She didn’t think she would ever be fully ready for the emotions and sensations taking her by storm.
She hadn’t expected to feel so much. It was as if what she had believed was a tiny trickling stream had suddenly turned into an ocean.
But it was too late to change her mind now, and she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to because she loved this man.
She held his gaze. “Yes.”
Lillian loved him. It was more than Alaric had ever dared to yearn for.
Before tonight, he had been hoping she was warming to him.
And when she had said those precious words to him in the drawing room, he had been half-afraid he’d been merely dreaming and that he would wake to find her still eying him warily, as if he were a stranger she didn’t dare trust. It hadn’t been a dream, however.
But still, when he’d heard the knock at his door earlier, he had initially thought that he had imagined the sound. Until a second had come, perhaps more hesitant but no less persistent than the first.
Now, the lone-word response she gave him sent a sharp bolt of desire straight through him.
For a moment, he could scarcely breathe.
He hadn’t expected to want her so much. Stone by stone, they had been dismantling each other’s walls.
It had begun that day with the Christmas decorations adorning the drawing room and had continued, ultimately leading them here, to this moment.
Alaric could tell she was nervous. For a woman so self-assured, Lillian had been flushing and tripping over her words from the moment she had spied him in the bath. But he had seen the way her eyes had clung lovingly to every bare inch of skin on him, and he knew why.
She wanted him.
This was new for her. He knew he had to proceed slowly. He didn’t want to spook her.
“Give me your hand,” he said softly.
Her brows snapped together. “My hand?”
He held his out, palm up. “It’s located at the end of your arm, complete with five fingers.”
She laughed, the honeyed sound slipping over him like a caress, and his cock hardened even more. “I know what a hand is.”
“Then do it.”
Hesitantly, she laid her palm flush against his. He brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles, then guided her hand to his chest, laying it against his pounding heart.
Her lips parted, her eyes widening, pupils dilating.
“Do you feel that?” he asked.
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and worried it before responding, “You…you aren’t wearing a shirt.”
God, she was utterly adorable, flustered like this. So ruffled and uncertain, bereft of her customary polish and perfection.
Why the hell had he waited so long to make her his? Why had he allowed that silly letter to come between them? He should have made love to her the very first night she’d been his wife. They wouldn’t have spent this last month apart.
“I’m not,” he agreed. “But that’s not what I wanted you to feel.”
“Oh? What, then?”
“My heart,” he told her. “Do you feel how fast it thumps? I’m nervous, too.”
“You don’t feel nervous.”
Alaric smiled at her. “How does nervous feel?”
“Hot all over,” she whispered.
“That’s not nervous.” His head dipped toward hers. “That’s desire.”
He didn’t wait for her response. He just settled his mouth over her soft, full lips.
They had been kissing all week, but this kiss was different because it was the precursor to something more.
Alaric reveled in the taste of her, sweet like the plum pudding they had enjoyed earlier for dessert—cinnamon, currants, and candied citrus. Her tongue eagerly moved against his.
They stayed thus for an indeterminate span of time, their lips moving as one, kissing each other senseless.
The kiss deepened, growing carnal, and Lillian pressed herself more firmly against him, the crush of her breasts on his chest making his aching cock twitch.
He could feel her body relaxing, melting into his.
Soon, her hands were both moving, one settling on his shoulder and the other landing on his nape.
Her fingers tangled in his wet hair, and he groaned into her mouth.
He hadn’t expected to want her this much, with a need that threatened to tear him in two.
But their time together had been a careful dance, each step leading them closer to an inevitable finish.
He dragged his mouth from hers, intoxicated by her, and strung a path of kisses along her smooth jaw to her throat.
He nuzzled the silken skin there, inhaling deeply of her jasmine scent.
She shivered in his arms, her nipples hard buds grazing his bare chest. He opened his mouth and sucked on her flesh, gratified when she moaned in response.
“Alaric.” She was breathless.
She was also still wearing her bloody dressing gown.
Kissing to the hollow at the base of her throat, he set to work on the buttons running down the front of the prim garment.
It was fashioned of a diaphanous fabric, and it had probably cost more than half his modest, outmoded wardrobe.
But by the time he reached the tempting swells of her breasts, he lost his patience with the tiny shell disks and began tearing.
Buttons flew over the carpet with muffled thuds.
She said his name again, part outrage at his desecration of her evening attire, he had no doubt, but then she giggled like a girl. “You’re ruining my dressing gown.”
“Forgive me,” he said.
Alaric was not truly apologetic, however. He would happily rip the blasted thing to shreds again in a second if it meant getting closer to her bare skin.
“You’re forgiven.” She smiled shyly up at him.
She was beautiful. Somehow, he managed to shove the dressing gown down her arms, only to realize that her night rail was also plagued by a thin row of buttons at the neck.
Her breasts strained against the fine fabric, her nipples taunting him.
He took her mouth with his to keep himself from tearing at this next impediment.
Alaric was trying to be a gentleman. To proceed slowly. To woo her.
But it was difficult indeed. His wife’s hands were moving over his body in a gentle, tentative exploration that felt impossibly good.
He was an idiot for staying away so long, thinking to give her time to adjust to her new life, allowing his wounded heart and pride to keep him from her.
For dithering in Scotland with that blasted architect.
He should have been here at her side instead.
Where he belonged.
Their lips never leaving each other’s for long, they somehow managed to strip away the layers separating them. The bedclothes had been turned down earlier by an efficient chambermaid, rendering it easy for Alaric and Lillian to lie in his bed together, bereft of any coverings.
He moved from her mouth to sample all the soft, sweetly feminine skin he had unveiled.
Her breasts were full and round, tipped with hard nipples.
He cupped a breast in his hand tenderly, and she arched her back with a throaty murmur of encouragement.
Dotting kisses over her skin, he moved to the peak of each breast, sucking lightly.
Her fingers tunneled through his hair, and she gasped.
Alaric glanced up to find her watching him, her expression lax with desire.
With her glorious flaxen hair unbound and spilling over his pillow, she was a far cry from the cool, refined heiress he had first met.
Lillian was like a gemstone, so many different facets to her, and he had come to respect them all.
This particular one was just for him, however.
“Tell me if I go too fast, or if I do something you don’t like, love,” he said, wanting to please her more than he wanted to take his next breath.
“I…liked that very much,” she said, giving him a coy smile.
“Excellent.” He kissed the swell of her breast and then moved lower, staking his claim upon her supple curves. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
He knew she had likely never experienced anything like what he was about to do, but now that his lips were on her, he couldn’t deny himself. He was ravenous, and nothing but more of his wife would do.
His kisses continued, and he insinuated himself between her legs, caressing as he worked his mouth over her hip bone. Her musky, feminine notes teased his senses. She stiffened as his lips ventured nearer to the juncture of her thighs.
“What are you…”
He kissed the top of her slit, then gently parted her folds and flicked his tongue over her clitoris.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, her hips jumping beneath him.
“Bringing you pleasure,” he murmured, sparing her another glance, although it was difficult to take his eyes from her pretty pink pussy. “Did you like it?”
Burnished gold lashes swept over her eyes, hiding her thoughts from him for a moment before she answered, “Yes.”
He returned his mouth to her, licking again and groaning at how wet she was.
She tasted even better than plum pudding.
Lost in her, he concentrated on the sounds she made, the way her body danced beneath him, alternating between sucking and teasing her with his tongue.
When her release hit her, she cried out in abandon, bucking into his face.
He stayed where he was, prolonging the pleasure for her, lapping at her, ridiculously pleased at how his reserved duchess had come apart for him.
But his cock couldn’t take much more waiting.
Gently, he teased a finger into her, trying to prepare her for him.
He didn’t want to cause her any pain or a moment of discomfort.
The first kiss of her wetness on his fingertip spurred him on.
He sank a finger into her tight heat to his knuckle.
Then he waited a few heartbeats for her body to adjust, sucking hard on her swollen nub as he glided deeper.
Her inner walls clenched him in a delicious grip, and he could already feel his cock leaking.
He worked her into a new frenzy and didn’t stop until she was coming again, clamping down on his finger as she rocked against him.
He pressed a wet kiss to her inner thigh and then dragged himself back up her body, gripping his cock and running it through her slippery folds to coat himself. With his other arm, he leveraged himself over her on the bed, an overwhelming rush of tenderness bursting inside his chest.
What a precious gift this woman was.
Somehow, they had found what they didn’t know they were seeking in each other. It felt, in a word, right.
“Certain?” he asked her.
She pressed a hand to his cheek. “Certain. I’m yours, Alaric.”
Her words spurred him on as if lightning had struck his very soul.
He was electrified. He was also harder than marble as he guided his cock to her entrance and thrust. She was so wet and responsive, her pussy tightening on him and almost pushing him out.
He kissed her throat and thrust deeper until he was fully seated.
Their bodies were joined, breast to chest, hip to hip.
Nothing could have prepared him for the intensity, the sheer pleasure.
Together, they moved, learning each other’s bodies.
Making love until they were both writhing together, poised on the precipice of something incredible.
He took her mouth for another kiss as he sank deep, and she clamped down hard on him again, her tongue surging against his as her body bowed beneath him.
Two more thrusts, and he emptied himself inside her, the force of his release unlike anything he had ever known.
In the aftermath, they held each other, their naked bodies spent and intertwined. He felt the steady beat of her heart, and hope for their future rose within him like the sun on Christmas morning.