Page 42 of The Duchess in His Bed
His growl was long and low, a rumbling in his chest that vibrated against her breasts. He swept her up in his arms and carried her into the bedchamber where the massive bed awaited them.
He’d never wanted anything in his life as much as he wanted her—all of her, every aspect of her. His name on her lips was an aphrodisiac he’d never experienced. Others had spoken his name, but no other utterance had sounded as breathless, as sweet. A benediction.
He’d wanted her to desire him. How was he to have known his desire for her would eclipse any longing he’d ever experienced? She was a witch, a vixen, a lady knocking on the door to his heart. He was so tempted to answer, to invite her in, but he understood that what was happening between them was not grounded in reality—it was part and parcel of the fantasy world he’d created. She was not a duchess of the realm and he was not the bastard son of an earl. Within these walls, they were not at opposite ends of the social hierarchy. Within his private chambers, they were all that existed and soon they would be supplanted by pleasure.
While he was anxious to see her completely nude, he took his time divesting her of her clothing, making the removal of each item as sensual as possible. He was succeeding if the glaze in her eyes was any indication. He skimmed his fingers slowly over every inch of skin revealed. When her breasts were freed, he felt as though they were old friends returning to visit. He cupped them in his palms, plumped them up, offered them to his mouth for feasting. He kissed, licked, suckled, first one and then the other.
Moaning softly, she wrapped her fingers around his upper arms and dropped her head back, exposing the long column of her throat. God, how could he resist that? So he nibbled and nipped, relishing the way her fingers tightened their hold.
Then he returned to the task at hand, shoving her loosened gown and petticoats down over her hips so she could step out of them. Quickly he rid her of the remainder of her undergarments, leaving her stockings for last. Balancing on the balls of his feet, he rolled the delicate silk past her knee, down her calf, over her ankle, teasing her flesh with featherlike strokes of his fingertips as he went. Her hands folded over his shoulders as he eased the stocking over her heel, her arch, her toes. He rubbed her foot, lifted it for a kiss, before giving his attention to the other stocking. When it had joined the first, he lifted his gaze to her, taking in the wonderful, slender, long length of her. “Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”
Even though the light in this room was naught but candles flickering, he saw her eyes darken, smoldering with the knowledge of what he would offer.
“I want your clothes removed.”
“Let me pleasure you first.”
Slowly she shook her head. “My passions are certain to be heightened by the sight of you.”
He couldn’t refuse so earnest a request. Still, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the heart of her sex and whispered a fervent promise, “Soon.”
Straightening, he stood before her, holding out his arms in supplication. “I’m all yours.”
She took a small step forward before helping him out of his jacket. Then her fingers ran the length of his waistcoat, pushing buttons free, her movements not as smooth or sure as his had been.
“Have you ever removed a man’s clothing before?”
Her fingers stilled, and she lifted her gaze to his. “No. My husband always came to me already in his nightshirt. Am I doing it incorrectly?”
With one hand, he cradled her cheek. “No, sweetheart. When it comes to lovemaking, nothing is incorrect as long as it’s what we both want.”
Placing her hand over his, she held it in place as she turned her face into his palm and pressed a kiss there. “Everything with you is a new experience, Aiden.”
The knowledge both delighted and saddened him. He never wanted her to have done without, but at the same time, he knew what he delivered would not pale in comparison to another’s. “Finish the chore. Much is still awaiting you.”
She gave him a saucy, but shy smile. “It’s no chore.”
He shrugged off the waistcoat. As she went to work unknotting his neck cloth, he touched all the soft areas of her that were within easy reach, skimming his fingers over the silk of her skin. With the neck cloth gone, she began freeing the buttons on his shirt, but his impatience was beginning to make itself known. He loosened his cuffs and as soon as she finished with the buttons, he dragged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He dropped onto the bed and tugged off his boots and stockings. Then he stood and waited, watched as she licked her lips.
“I’ve never actually seen... we were very proper in our bedding.”
“You are going to find I am very improper.” He dropped his hand to the fall of his trousers, slid it down to the base, brought it back up. Again. Again. Saw her swallow.
Tentatively her fingers neared his. He moved his aside. The length of her hand, from fingertips to wrist, landed against the fall of his trousers, against the bulge housed there. His groan was an entreaty that she answered with a long slow stroke. Down. Up. Then she was loosening buttons, parting cloth, and his cock sprang free.
“My goodness. It’s larger than I thought.”
“Men come in different sizes.” He shoved down his trousers, stepped out of them, and tossed them aside.
“Still, it didn’t feel so big through the cloth.” Kneeling before him, she skimmed her bare fingers over the length of him.
“Christ, Lena.” Her touch deprived him of breath.
“So silky. So hot.”
While she explored, he removed the pins from her hair until the heavy strands cascaded around her shoulders, over his cock. Pure bliss.
Dropping her head back, she captured and held his gaze. “I want you inside me.”
