Page 39 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

When the Duke of Hardbridge kissed her, Celia was not quite prepared for it. Her hands were still pulling at the straps of her nightgown, though she immediately stopped, reaching for him instead.

The way he kissed her had the most magical effect, as if no other woman mattered to him in the world at that moment other than her. He parted her lips as if he had done it so many times before, then reached out to angle their tongues together.

She gasped into his mouth at his sheer dominance. She scrambled to get closer to him, moving to her knees as he too knelt on the bed. Her fingers even curled around the tie at his throat, pulling him down toward her.

Then abruptly, he stopped kissing her. He pulled back, though Celia could see from his half-lidded eyes that this was not about to end.

“I thought ye were taking that off,” he said darkly, his voice so deep that she practically cooed at the sound of it.

He reached for her, and together they pulled her nightgown over her head. She supposed she should have been embarrassed to be so naked before him now, but she wasn’t. Far from it. Rather, she was emboldened by the way he took in the sight of her.

His grey eyes lingered in particular on the swell of her breasts before drifting somewhere much lower. She even wriggled when he stared at her belly for too long. Her movement made him jerk forward.

Celia was flattened to the bed as he braced himself above her, kissing her again, his lips molding to her own. She was not really aware of her leg wrapping around his hip, but it was suddenly there. One of his hands clutched her thigh, encasing it, his large fingers making it feel small as he opened her up, allowing room for him to press his hips against her own.

She gasped into the kiss when she felt something hard press against her center. It took no great leap of the imagination to guess what that was, and the idea that he was hard because of her thrilled her.

He kissed down her neck, and a breathy moan escaped her lips as she arched up into him. Then he trailed his lips down the valley between her breasts and up to her nipple before he took it into his mouth.

When he nipped her, the bite elicited fresh pleasure. The gasp that escaped her was louder.

“This is audacious, even for you,” she gasped. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He moved his lips to her other breast, giving it just as much attention. When his fingers came up to the first nipple, toying with it, she gripped the bed covers beneath her.

She’d heard the painter talk of such pleasures, but he hadn’t prepared her for the wetness that now pooled between her legs. He also hadn’t told her about the throbbing in her most private part as she longed for the Duke of Hardbridge’s touch.

“It’s… scandalous,” she whispered, her fingers toying with the bed covers as the Duke took more of her breast into his mouth, laving it with his tongue.

Slowly, he released her breast, his eyes meeting hers as he raised his eyebrows.

“Do ye want me to stop?”

No.

Rather than saying the words, her hands moved to his shoulders.

It was the only sign he needed. He grabbed her hands and pulled them off his body, then pinned them together in just one hand and held them above her head.

Celia supposed she should have been angry he was dominating her in such an obvious way, but she wasn’t. She was thrilled by it, just wanting him to keep taking control. His other hand went back to her thigh, and he raised it high so it was around his clothed hip again.

Not a single part of her was hidden from him. Completely naked, her legs open wide, he could see all of her.

“Do as I say,” he urged in a heated whisper.

“Would I ever?” she teased him.

Something flashed in his eyes, though it wasn’t anger. He smirked, a true pleasure lighting up his features.

“Oh, ye will this time.” He bent toward her. “Keep those hands there… Or I’ll have to tie them.”

She was rather tempted to move her hands, just so he would tie them.

Then it all happened so fast. He released her wrists and moved down her body, his lips moving to her most private part. Stunned, her legs quivered as she felt his lips on her sex.

She gasped just as his tongue trailed a path from her opening to a tender bundle of nerves. He repeated the movement, and her whole body quaked from the pleasure.

She’d heard of such things. When the painter had mentioned them, her friend, Miriam, had giggled with delight, saying there was nothing better a man could do with his tongue.

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