Page 44 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

“Yes,” he growled.

Suddenly, he swooped her up in his arms and carried her to the large four-poster bed.

Whatever came next, Catherine thought she was prepared for it, however frightening or painful the experience might be. But Hugh laid her carefully down on the bed, her legs hanging over the edge of the mattress, and then knelt on the carpet between her thighs.

Catherine was confused by this development and raised her head slightly, trying to work out what was happening. The hands parting her thighs were warm and strong, but it was the expression of intense focus on his face that thrilled her the most as he gazed at her most intimate parts.

As promised, his kisses rained down on her naked body, covering her breasts, belly, and thighs, before she felt his mouth kissing her mount of Venus. This was followed by the unexpected attention of his tongue, tasting, seeking, and caressing.

Lost in the incredible and unexpected sensations of this experience, Catherine heard her own labored breathing, heard herself gasping and pleading for something she could not even name. Hugh’s mouth and hands continued their slow, rhythmic torture until the inexorable waves of pleasure took her one by one.

Catherine cried out loudly, falling over the edge.

Then, Hugh crawled onto the bed beside her, completely naked, his jutting manhood very much in evidence. In the aftermath of her climax, the sight of it elicited far more desire than nervousness.

Hugh kissed her again, his mouth salty with the taste of her arousal and his fingers dipping again into her slit. Her fingers found his throbbing length and closed around it, and he raised his head and looked into her eyes.

“You’re so big,” she said softly, enjoying the feel of him in her hand but experiencing doubts about how it would feel to have him inside her.

In response, Hugh slid two fingers into her virgin entrance. “You’re ready for me, Catherine. It will feel good,” he reassured her.

Hugh’s brow was damp with sweat, and his was face tight. Catherine was conscious that he was in some way holding back and guessed that he needed the same release she had just experienced.

When Hugh shifted above her, she opened her thighs willingly, wanting to return the pleasure he had given her. He lined his length with her entrance, and she gasped a little as he slid the first few inches inside her.

“Hugh—oh! Oh…”

In very little time, he was entirely buried inside her, a fact that her mind struggled to grasp even while her body reacted automatically to his invasion, writhing and moaning.

Unhurried at first but then with increasing speed and compulsion, Hugh began to thrust inside her. Unexpectedly, she found herself once more in the throes of the same waves that had overwhelmed when his tongue had feasted on her.

Hugh was no longer holding back, groaning with every thrust while fondling her breasts.

Catherine’s arms and legs tightened around him as a second climax hit her. His mouth swallowed her cries, and she felt him throb deep inside her.

They clung to each other for a few moments longer, as though shipwrecked and washed up on the shore.

“There,” Hugh said, at last, his face relaxed and sated. “Now, you are fully my wife, Catherine. I hope you will not find your marital duties very arduous?”

Still catching her breath and conscious of the sweat on her skin and the mess that was her hair, Catherine found herself laughing out loud. “Hard work, certainly, but not arduous, no…”

Even as she said that, she wondered how it could really be true. Her defloration had not been at all what she had expected, and certainly not as her mother had implied. The pleasure had been hers as much as her husband’s. But how was that possible?

“Good.” Hugh kissed her and rolled onto his side with a teasing smile. “Because I will be expecting these particular duties to be performed regularly—sometimes several times a day. I believe that is what our appetites require and what will soonest get you with child.”

Catherine’s heart and mind were in a tumult at his statement. Of course, the Duke of Redbridge would wish to mount his new wife frequently and conceive an heir as soon as possible. It was how men were. But should she not feel some resentment and affront at being used in such a way?

Instead, there was only lust, fulfillment, and impossible pleasure, again and again through the night.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The twenty-four hours following Lady Tarleton’s ball passed in a dazed, sensual blur for Catherine. Hugh’s ardor came as no surprise, only confirming her view of men as essentially lust-driven creatures. However, her intense hunger for his body shocked her, even while it pleased and incited him to further sexual acts.

“You’re insatiable,” Hugh had breathed as he took her for the fourth or fifth time—she had lost count by that point but still welcomed his touch. “Just the way I want you…”

Surely, she should not be so enthusiastic when he locked the door to his study and bent her over his desk with her skirts gathered around her waist and her breasts spilling out of her bodice and into his hands? Or when he lifted her up against the wall in the dining room and thrust into her, his hand over her mouth to muffle her moans of ecstasy and not alert the servants nearby.

Catherine’s face turned crimson when she recalled some of the things she had said and done with her husband. What kind of a woman was she to enjoy such depraved activities?

---