Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
C ecilia tasted even sweeter than he remembered. He could not believe he had gone a full week without this, without her lips against his, her body against his, her sweet gasps as he pulled her in closer. Her arms wound up around his neck.
His hands continued to roam her body as they kissed, tracing her curves through the fabric of her dress. When his hand reached her breast, she broke the kiss and pulled away, chest heaving.
“Wait,” she said breathlessly, looking up at him with those breathtakingly green eyes.
“What?” he said, hands stopping where they were.
He searched her face for some sign. Her cheeks were the soft red of roses, her hair like spun gold in the dim lighting. This woman, he thought, will be the death of me.
At the very least, if she were to not start kissing him again in very short order, he was quite certain he would go absolutely mad.
“What?” he questioned her, as his eyes raked across her face, her neck, the soft swell of her bosom perfectly framed by the neckline of her gown.
“Not here,” she whispered, her eyes flickering to the hall. “One of the staff might see.”
“To hell with the bloody staff,” he growled, pressing his lips more firmly against hers. She welcomed this, clinging to him with equal force. Acquiescing to her request, though, he reluctantly pulled away, enjoying the look of confusion and longing that flashed across her face this time.
“What are you—” she began. “Oh!” This last was in response to Ian bending down and sweeping her up off her feet, into a bridal carry. “Ian,” she said, unable to stifle a delighted giggle. “What are you doing?”
“I am just now realizing I never carried you across the threshold,” he said, a playful glint entering his eye beneath the unbridled lust that resided there.
“Ah. Of course.” She pressed her lips together, still smiling, and nodded. “That was rather un-husbandly of you.”
“My thoughts exactly,” he purred, pressing another hungry kiss to her mouth. “It only seems right that I rectify the situation.”
And with that, he took off down the hall towards his chambers.
They were still kissing as they entered the room.
Cecilia’s head was all in a daze. She was heated all over, burning up beneath the laces of her corset, and yet all she could truly focus on was the feeling of Ian kissing her. Ian’s lips against hers. Ian’s hands running across her body.
It was as though the passion from their encounter the week prior had multiplied tenfold, turning into an all-consuming lust that was almost more than she knew what to do with. She didn’t know what to do with it.
All she knew was that she wanted more . Every fight she had had with Ian, every heated exchange, every glare…all of that had been transformed into fiery passion.
When he lowered her back to her feet, she could not bring herself to stop kissing him even for a moment. Her hands moved as if on instinct, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. All she knew was that she wanted—needed—to be closer to him.
He dropped his lips to her jaw, kissing his way down her neck, nipping at the delicate point where neck met shoulder and collarbone, and she sighed with pleasure. He seemed to leave sparks everywhere he kissed and touched her, the heat of his lips and hands conjuring up a deeper shock beneath her skin.
“You are impossible,” he said between kisses, his voice low and rough and wanting. It made her ache just to hear the longing in his voice. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is, to be in a room with you and not have you like this? What torture it is, to look at you across a table and not have a stream of the most ungentlemanly thoughts running through my head?”
“Thoughts of me?” Cecilia asked.
It was almost unimaginable to think of, that this man—this infuriating, impossibly handsome man, with all of his wit and fire and experience—would want her in the same desperate way she craved him.
“Of course, thoughts of you,” he growled, kissing her fiercely once more. “Thoughts of all the things I want to do to you. Thoughts of what it would be like to bring you here, to my bedroom, and ravish every delightful inch of this ridiculously tempting body.”
“Tell me what you want to do to me,” she said breathlessly. “Show me. Everything. Anything.”
As he kissed her again, his hands ran down her shoulders, pushing her sleeves down to expose the delicate skin there. “I dream of kissing my way down your neck, like this,” he said, demonstrating, his lips once more setting the skin of her neck aflame so that she could not help but gasp again and tilt back her head to give him better access. “And lower, too.”
His lips reached the swell of her bosom, as did his hand. With the neckline of her dress so newly lowered, one could almost see the dusky pink of her nipples peering over the top of her corset. He reached in with one hand and cupped one, running a thumb over the peak, which sent a new jolt of pleasure through her.
“I want to hear every sound that comes from those sweetly parted lips,” he said, showering her breasts in kisses. “I want to have you begging for me before I even have you unclothed.”
“Yes,” she said, half through a moan. “Yes, Ian. Please.”
His lips curved into a smile against her skin. “I love it when you say my name like that.” He kissed her again, tasting the delicate skin. “I want to make you say my name like that again, and again. And I am going to,” he promised, “in every way I know how. And perhaps a few new ways we shall invent together. You have the kind of tempting beauty that drives a man to inspiration.”
One hand started at her ankle and ran upwards, pushing up underneath her skirt and her shift, and she could not help but let her legs fall apart, as if by instinct. His fingers trailed upwards, caressing her calf, drifting across the sensitive skin under her knee.
She shuddered when his hands reached her thighs.
“Is this all right?” he whispered into her ear, before nipping at her earlobe.
She nodded. “More,” she murmured. “I want more, Ian. Please.”
“I want to take my time with you, Cecilia.” As he kissed her neck again, so lightly as to be tormenting, his fingers brushed up against her at that most sensitive place at the apex of her thighs. “I want to make you fall apart for me the way you have made my self-control nearly fall apart.”
“That is unfair,” she breathed, her hips slightly bucking up to meet his fingers, maddeningly light against her. “It is you who has made me lose all self-control. You are the one who has made me lose my head. I was so sensible before we met— oh. ”
Having apparently decided he had teased her enough, he suddenly pressed forth with slightly more pressure, precisely where she needed it.
“Oh?” he asked.
Good God, she could practically hear the smirk in his voice, and all without even needing to look at him. And yet, in place of the annoyance that seeing such an expression would usually bring to her, now it only stoked the fires of her lust higher still.
“What is it you were saying, wife? I do not believe I heard you.”
Arrogant rake , she thought, though there was no real bite to the words; she was too busy focused on the dizzying pleasure his fingers were bringing her.
It was as though he knew exactly what she felt. He touched her with such dexterity, as though he knew her body almost as well as she did.
When he stopped kissing her neck and began to move down her body, she could have wept in frustration.
“Why are you stopping?” she cried out.
“I am doing no such thing,” he assured her.
Now, kneeling between her legs, he hiked up her skirts further and began peppering kisses up along her legs, even to her thighs.
When he replaced his fingers with his tongue, Cecilia grasped at the sheets beneath her, unable to do anything but moan. After a few seconds of grasping, she felt one of Ian’s hands take hers. The other remained firmly wrapped around her leg, holding her steady as he licked and sucked at her, stoking the fire within her even brighter.
She had never imagined anything like this. It should have been dirty, what he was doing, unwholesome—and yet, how could anything that felt this good be wrong?
He continued to explore, testing out what reactions she had to different types of kisses and licks, before focusing on the spots that produced the loudest sounds, the most desperate pleas.
“God, that feels good,” she cried when he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Ian, I—I am?—”
“That is it,” he murmured against her, as she tumbled towards some unknown apex. “You are so good for me, wife. So sweet, so responsive. Come to the edge for me. Give yourself over to pleasure, my beautiful Cecilia.”
As he continued, his tongue hot and wet, his hand gripping hers, Cecilia had the feeling of being swept towards something. The tension in her body grew, climbing higher and higher like a crescendo of a great symphony, before reaching what felt like a breaking point.
Crying out his name, Cecilia tumbled over the edge. It felt as though she were falling or flying. The wave of pleasure that crashed over her was so intense as to be overwhelming. As she began to come back down from her peak, she found that she was trembling.
Ian climbed back up the bed and settled next to her, kissing her deeply. “Are you all right?” he asked, caressing her face.
When Cecilia got her breath back, all she could do was laugh. “Yes,” she said, leaning back into the pillow and letting her eyes flutter shut. “Oh, yes.”