Page 27 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

He took his time, exploring her breasts, his fingers circling and teasing her nipples until they were taut and aching. Then, he slid his hands down her ribcage, his thumbs tracing the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips.

Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her chemise, he slowly pulled it down, revealing her inch by inch. The cool air brushed against her bare skin, making her shiver with anticipation. Thechemise pooled at her feet, and she stepped out of it, left standing before him in nothing but her stockings.

Cecil's intake of breath was sharp, his eyes roving over her naked body with an intensity that made her feel both vulnerable and powerful. "You are a masterpiece," he said, his voice hoarse with desire. "A work of art more beautiful than any painting."

He reached out, his hands skimming her hips, then sliding down her thighs. His touch was feather-light, almost teasing, as if he were memorizing every curve and line of her body.

Then, he guided her to the desk, lifting her gently so she was perched on the edge. He stepped between her legs, spreading them wide to accommodate his body. His hands slid up her thighs, his thumbs brushing against the tender flesh of her inner thighs.

Elizabeth's breath hitched, her body trembling with anticipation. She could feel the heat of his body, the hard length of his arousal pressing against her thigh. She wanted him, wanted this, with a desperation that stole her breath.

Cecil leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth, exploring and claiming, while his hands continued their leisurely exploration of her body. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through her.

She moaned into his mouth, her body arching into his touch. He swallowed the sound, his kiss deepening, becoming more demanding, more possessive.

She moaned softly as his skilled fingers found their target, exploring her most intimate place with deliberate care. Her hips bucked involuntarily at the novel sensation, her body responding with an eagerness that both thrilled and frightened her.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. His fingers continued their gentle exploration, tracing the folds of her sex, circling the sensitive nub at her core.

Elizabeth's breath came in short pants, her body trembling with need. She could feel the pleasure building, a tight coil of sensation low in her belly. She whimpered, her hips lifting, seeking more of his touch.

Cecil obliged, his fingers delving deeper, exploring her slick folds. He found her entrance, his fingers circling the sensitive flesh, then slowly sliding inside.

Elizabeth moaned, her head falling back, her eyes fluttering closed. The sensation of him filling her, stretching her, was exquisite. She could feel every ridge of his fingers, every knuckle, as he moved slowly in and out of her.

"You feel divine," he breathed against her neck. "So warm, so responsive to my touch."

"Cecil," she gasped, her voice trembling. "I've never...I didn't know it could feel like this."

His thumb found her clit, circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was overwhelming, pleasure spiraling through her, building with each stroke of his fingers.

"Let go for me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "I want to watch you come undone."

"I can't..." she whimpered, though her body arched into his touch. "It's too much..."

"You can," he assured her, his free hand tangling in her hair. "Trust me. Give yourself to me completely."

Her hands gripped the edge of the desk, her knuckles white with the strain. She was close, so close, her body trembling on the precipice of release.

Cecil seemed to sense her need, his fingers moving faster, deeper. His thumb pressed harder against her clit, his circles becoming tighter, more precise.

And then, she was falling, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out, her back arching, her hips lifting off the desk. Cecil held her there, his fingers drawing out her orgasm, his thumb circling her clit until the last tremors of pleasure had faded.

She collapsed back onto the desk, her body limp, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Cecil withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips. He sucked them into his mouth, his eyes locked on hers, a wicked smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"You taste divine, wife," he said, his voice rough with desire. "I could feast on you for hours and never grow tired."

Elizabeth suddenly stiffened as reality crashed over her. What was she doing? She scrambled up from the desk, her hands trembling as she hastily straightened her clothing.

"I should go," she whispered, unable to meet his eyes as mortification flooded through her. What must he think of her, behaving so wantonly?

"Running away again?" His voice held that dangerous edge that made her shiver. "At least take some instruction with you—when you're alone tonight, remember how my hands felt. Practice what I showed you."

Elizabeth's eyes widened in surprise, a thrill of excitement coursing through her. The idea of pleasuring herself, of exploring her own body, was scandalous, forbidden. But it was also tempting, enticing.

"You are utterly infuriating," she said, her voice shaking with a mixture of desire and frustration. She knew she should be outraged by his presumption, not trembling with want. "This isn't...we shouldn't..."

She slid off the desk on unsteady legs, desperate to regain some semblance of dignity. When she bent to retrieve her chemise, Cecil stopped her, his hand on her arm.

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