Page 82 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

He shifted her, moving to tie her wrist to the bedpost with the stocking.

“Fearing I’m going to run away?” she asked, marveling at the soft material against her wrist, though it firmly kept her bound.

“Just making sure ye can’t,” he said in a deep voice, then he winked as his face appeared in front of hers. “Now, for the other one.”

He took off the other stocking even more slowly. His hand traced a path down the back of her calf, squeezing it before he removed the stocking and reached for her other wrist.

She gasped when he tied her wrist to another post. She was now laid out flat on her back on the bed. If she really wanted to escape, she could have pulled hard enough to tear the stockings and get away, but… but she wanted to know what more he wanted to do to her now that he had her in this position.

He stood before the bed and started to unbutton his waistcoat. Celia couldn’t look at anything else in the room but him. She watched, entranced, as he undid all the buttons and pulled the garment off. She wanted him to reach for his shirt next, but he didn’t. He instead kicked off his boots and then made his way back to the bed.

She arched up toward him, longing to feel his lips on her own, but he knew exactly what she wanted and defied her, teasing her. He held his lips just out of reach, then turned her head to theside and taunted her by trailing his lips down her neck. It wasn’t quite a kiss, but enough of one to promise what would come.

“Oh…” She moaned in frustration, wishing to pull him down to her, though her bound hands meant she couldn’t. She held tightly onto the stockings instead.

“Patience, sweetheart.”

“I have none of that!” she complained as he chuckled against her skin.

She fell flat back down on the bed again as he kissed his way down her cleavage. He nipped her ever so lightly, then softened the bite with a lick that had her panting, and then he kissed all the way down her stomach through the gown.

When he reached the apex of her thighs, he halted his kisses and pulled at the skirt of her dress. The train was so long that it took time, making her writhe on the bed in frustration. That familiar ache now was back between her legs, the ache that spoke so much of needing satisfaction, of needing to be touched.

As he exposed her legs, he bent down again. She held her breath, waiting to see if he would kiss her legs, but he didn’t. He gripped her thighs and opened them wide with breathtaking suddenness.

Then she felt his lips on her very center. The spark and excitement returned in the most thrilling way, each flick of his tongue against her wet core making her breaths quicken.

His lips moved to that most sensitive area above her entrance, and then he slid his finger into her without warning. The way he reached for that most sensitive spot inside her was scintillating. She bucked her hips against him, pulling even more on the stockings holding her in position, for she so badly wanted to reach down to him but couldn’t.

She was soon a dithering mess as he curled his finger at the right moment, finding a new spot inside of her that made her toes curl. She was sure she was climbing those heights, ready for her release when he stopped.

“Keith,” she complained.

“I’m making this last, sweetheart. I’m going to remember every second.”

He kissed her hip with those words before he knelt up between her legs. He reached down for his trousers and slowly unbuckled them. Transfixed, she watched with her lips a little parted, eying him as he released his length.

Teasing himself just a little, he pumped his length once. She pulled on the stockings again, frustrated not to be the one touching him.

He chuckled, clearly seeing what she was doing, then pushed his trousers down all the way. Then he went for her wrists and pulled one of the stockings off. She reached for him, but he took hold of her hand too quickly and turned it around. Holding her wrist to his lips, he nipped the back in a thrilling way.

“Not yet, lass.”

He turned her over so she was on her knees and fastened her wrist to the same post where her other wrist was attached. It was all done swiftly, leaving Celia on her knees, holding onto the post, as she desperately tried to look over her shoulder at what he was doing.

He positioned himself behind her rear, then grabbed hold of her calf. With firm fingers, he pulled her legs further apart so there was a perfect space for him to kneel.

She panted faster as she looked forward again, gripping the post hard.

He rubbed his hands across her rear, his fingers exploring her cheeks and even dipping into the space beneath. The firmness of his movements, the confidence with which he did everything, was as intoxicating to her as what they were doing.

He slid his fingers toward her entrance and started toying with her, not quite entering her but teasing her with the possibility that it would be soon. She rocked her hips back, wanting him to touch her again, but his other hand slapped her buttcheek.

“Oh!” she gasped at the excitement of that touch. Again, he hadn’t hurt her, but it was enough to make her want more.

“Patience,” he preached again in such a deep voice that she moaned his name. It escaped her lips without her being ready forit. “That’s it, sweetheart. Ye’ll be moaning my name louder in a minute.”

Then his fingers explored her entrance again. Feeling braver this time, she rocked her hips back again. Once more, he tapped her in reprimand, and she moaned in the most pleasurable way.

---