Page 55 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

“Oh,” she gasped in surprise as he turned her around, kicking her gown aside. She was now just in her chemise and her stays.

He pulled at her chemise, dragging it up around her hips as he urged her forward so that her palms fell on the seat of the chaise longue.

The sound of tearing cloth echoed through the room.

“What…” she trailed off as he tore the skirt of her chemise.

She was left only in the top part of her chemise and her stays, which accentuated the swell of her breasts and her narrow waist.

“You really do just take what you want, don’t you?” she huffed.

“Whatwewant, sweetheart,” he reminded her, tossing the chemise to the side.

She was still looking for where it landed when she felt his touch. His fingers reached down between her legs and entered her in one swift movement. He didn’t tease her as he had done with his tongue the first time, but entered her at once, claiming her.

She moaned, the sound breathy as she rocked back against him.

“Still hate me?” he whispered tauntingly, his hands running down the curve of her back, pulling at her stays.

“You have no idea how much.”

She had a feeling she would hate herself far more for this in the morning, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore.

The Duke of Hardbridge made her want to forget every vow she had ever taken not to explore pleasure. With him, she wanted to discover it all.

He parted his fingers ever so slightly as he slid them in and out of her, setting up a fast rhythm. Stunned at the pleasure now rocketing through her lower abdomen, she gave up on words as he continued to explore her.

He tapped her rear again, one of those light slaps that made everything tingle.

“Ye want me to stop?” he teased her, moving his fingers faster. “Say the word… and I will.”

“You know very well I don’t want you to stop,” she snapped over her shoulder.

He chuckled, releasing her.

“No!” she complained, but it was too late. He had taken her hip and flipped her onto her back on the chaise longue.

Without hesitation, he bent over her, curling one of her legs over his wide shoulders.

She sat up, staring down as his dark head moved toward her sex. His lips found her center, and her head fell back. He was clearly experienced in what to do with that tongue of his, and she loved the fact that he knew what to do. He seemed to rub every pleasure point there was outside of her as his hands reached up and cupped her rear, pulling her up toward him.

She was jittery again, shuddering, on the verge of release, when he once more pulled away.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she muttered in frustration.

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart.” He knelt up on the chaise longue.

She saw her chance. There was something Miriam and the painter had told her, a way to pleasure a man. She had never been interested in the idea before, but with the Duke of Hardbridge, the idea was very alluring indeed.

Testing out what she knew, she reached for his trousers and began to undo the flap.

He stiffened, not pulling back this time but watching exactly what she was doing. She reached beneath his trousers, doing her best not to let her fingers tremble. Once he was free, she reached forward, exploring him.

The moment her fingers curled around his length, he growled. He leaned down over her, his hands moving back to her.

Their mutual exploration began in earnest. Every time she tried something new, she watched for his reaction, loving the way his chiseled cheeks pinkened a little and he became breathless. His fingers entered her, matching the rhythm of her hands.

They didn’t once take their eyes off each other as they explored. It made each moan louder, each flicker of pleasure all the greater.

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