“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the table. “We have only just begun. I hope you do not mind, I took the liberty of ordering your favorites.”
Turning her attention toward the table, she found strawberries and an assortment of tartlets—lemon, apple, cream-filled with chocolate drizzle—alongside the champagne.
“Dessert and champagne? You certainly know the way to a woman’s heart.”
Lifting the bottle from its ice bucket, he filled two glasses. Extending one to her, he lifted his own.
“To love,” he said, inclining his head. “And its uncanny ability to sneak up on one from the most unexpected of places.”
Touching her glass to his, she smiled. “To love.”
Camden waited until Margaret had finished her first glass of champagne to unveil his next surprise of the evening. Through the slits of his black mask, he watched her, pride filling him at the knowledge that she belonged to him.
Three months ago, if someone had told him that he would be wed by the end of the season—and to a young debutante and daughter of a baron, no doubt—he would have laughed in their faces.
Yet, just as he’d said during his toast, love had taken him by surprise. Now, he could hardly imagine his life without Maggie. A man who’d often ridiculed romance and flights of fancy, he now found himself wanting to do everything he could to show his wife how special she had become to him. The idea of recreating a masquerade had come to him weeks ago, and he’d known she would enjoy it. His passionate little wife loved new experiences—a few of which he intended to introduce her too tonight.
Reaching onto the table, he lifted the music box he’d stashed there. It had taken him hours of searching through the storage closets off the ballroom, but he’d eventually struck gold. His mother had been very fond of music boxes, and had kept many stored for the rare occasion they had a small gathering without musicians. The late duchess had never wanted a young lady to go without a dance partner, so she would send a servant for the music boxes so they could have accompaniment without one of the young dames having to play the pianoforte. He’d dusted off two waltzes just for this evening—Maggie’s favorite dance.
“What’s a masquerade without music?” he mused aloud, winding one of the boxes. Setting it down, he extended his arms to her as the soft melody filled the air.
Without speaking, she fell into his arms and he carried her across the gleaming marble floor. They moved together with an effortless grace, as if they’d been made to perform this dance together. He held her much closer than he would have in public, melding her against him from breast to thigh. His breath hitched as he realized she wore nothing beneath her gown—not even a corset. It was just the sort of thing she knew would drive him mad with want.
“Do you remember our first waltz?” he asked, hoping to distract himself from her state of near nudity. Now wasn’t the time to rip her gown to shreds and take her on the ballroom floor.
She smiled. “Oh, of course. Such a romantic setting—the gardens, the lanterns, you in your black and white wearing your mask.”
“You recognized me, despite the mask,” he pointed out.
Her voice dropped, becoming low and husky when she replied. “I’d know you anywhere.”
“I think a part of me knew you, too. Not your name, or anything like that, of course. I mean … I think maybe my heart recognized something my mind had yet to realize. You were the one.”
“I suppose you should be grateful, then, that I pursued you.”
Guiding her into a turn, he held her even closer and bent his head for a kiss. She melted against him and the dance ended as she clung to him, greeting his tongue with her eager one.
He pulled away, giving her a wink from behind his mask. “Eternally grateful.”
Straightening, he offered her his arm and led her back toward the table. Refilling her champagne glass, he handed it to her.
“Someone is trying to get me good and foxed,” she murmured.
Grasping her waist, he lifted her up onto the edge of the table. Leaning over her, he buried his face in the curve of her neck and inhaled in heady scent.
“Hmmmm,” he mumbled, punctuating it by running his tongue over the vein thrumming with her pulse. “Perhaps I am.”
Tipping her head back, she took a healthy swallow—a far cry from the timid thing accustomed to only one glass.
Straightening, he plucked a strawberry from the dish nearby. After dunking it into her glass to soak it in champagne, he held it up to her lips. The red berry glistened with champagne, a matching shade to the rogue drawing attention to her pretty little mouth. She parted her lips for the berry, her tongue creeping out to catch a drop of champagne dripping from its edge. Closing her eyes, she sighed while she chewed. He ate the rest of the berry while taking up his own glass of champagne. Standing between his wife’s spread legs, he fed her strawberries and plied her with champagne until she was rosy-cheeked and giggling.
Taking up one of the cream-filled tartlets—her favorite—he held up in front of her.
“More sweets for my sweet?”
She giggled, swaying precariously on the table. “If you don’t stop feeding me, I’m going to grow big as a house!”
He edged the treat closer, arching one eyebrow. “Then there will just be more of you to love. Enjoy it Magie. You are hardly in danger of losing your lovely figure.”
Opening her mouth, she ate the tartlet from between his fingers, caressing the digits with her tongue as she did. The velvety rasp caused heat to surge in his veins, and he reached for another, promptly offering it to her once she’d swallowed. This one left a dollop of chocolate on his fingertip, which he smeared over her lower lip. Capturing it in a kiss, he lapped at her lip, groaning as the flavor assaulted him in one sweet rush.
“Chocolate and Margaret,” he murmured. “An intriguing combination. I must have more.”
Taking one of her hands, he gently tugged the silk glove covering her slender fingers. He bared the other in the same way, deliberately taking his time and allowing the fabric to caress her skin. Bringing one of her hands up to his lips, he kissed the palm, then skimmed toward her fingers, placing another shorter peck against them.
Her breath hitched as he caught her index finger in her mouth, slowly sucking it between his lips and caressing it with his tongue. Reaching across the table with her free hand, she swiped another dollop of chocolate from one of the tartlets, coating her fingertip with it. Extending it to him, she watched, lips parted, as he licked the smear of chocolate before sucking the slender digit into his mouth as he’d done the other. Grasping her wrist, he treated each digit to the same treatment, swirling his tongue around them and suckling gently, causing her breath to quicken with each caress.
Reaching behind her, he began opening her gown. Bending down, he placed a row of tender kisses along her exposed shoulder.
“I seem to remember the taste of you being well complimented by champagne,” he whispered, turning to nibble her earlobe. “Why don’t you refill that glass for me while I finish undressing you?”
Pulling one of her arms free of the bodice, she reached for the champagne bottle and poured a liberal amount in his empty flute, sloshing a bit over the rim of the glass when he paused to take one of her nipples between his teeth.
He pulled the gown down to her waist, faltering as she lifted her hips for him to lower it completely. He stood upright, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of her, reclined against her elbows on the table, nude save for her mask and the black silk stockings cover her legs from mid-thigh to toe.
“So bloody beautiful,” he murmured, grasping one soft thigh and trailing upward. “I thought I knew what beauty was. I’ve always surrounded myself with beautiful things—prided myself on my taste in women. You cannot imagine how I felt the first time I gazed upon your naked body and realized I didn’t know a damn thing. I know what beauty is now.”
Reach
ing up, she grasped the nape of his neck and pulled him over her. Raising her head, she kissed him, sliding her fingers through his hair. She raised her legs, wrapping them around his waist and drawing him closer—so close her mons brushed the erection fighting against the front of his breeches. His stomach contracted, desire driving the air from his lungs and sending even more blood surging to his cock.
“You always know just what to say,” she whispered, smiling as she released him.
“Now it’s your turn to talk,” he declared, taking up the filled champagne glass. “Tell me, love … would you like to feel this champagne running over your beautiful tits? Do you want me to lap it off, drink it from your skin?”
Throwing her head back, she arched her back in invitation. “Yes, Camden,” she whispered. “I want that.”
“What my duchess wants …”
Lifting the glass, he tilted it, smirking as the golden champagne trickled over her left breast, causing her gasp. Splashing the right breast in the same way, he watched as the champagne sluiced over both round globes and trickled down between them, racing toward her navel.
Lowering his head, he caught the first trickling rivulet, tracing it back up the way it had come to the valley between her breasts. The soft flesh heaved as her breath became harsh and rapid in response to his searching tongue. His open mouth skimmed her stomach, his tongue capturing the streams of champagne and lapping them from her soft skin.
Taking her breasts in his palms, he pressed them together, running his tongue from one to the other. Her nipples responded, hardening and swelling against his tongue. He circled each one before delving into the valley between them, then tasting each crest. He suckled and licked until he felt certain he’d captured every drop of champagne, then kissed them some more—until she moaned and writhed against him, her heels digging into his tailbone and urging him closer.
Standing straight again, he raked his eyes over her from head to toe, primal satisfaction filling him to know that he was the only man that ever saw her this way.
“You look hot, love,” he said, reaching toward the silver bucket their champagne had been chilling in. “Allow me to relieve you.”
Before she could ask any questions, he discovered a chunk of ice in the frigid water and took it between his lips. She gasped when he ran the ice over her pulse point, trailing it down over her collarbone. Panting and shuddering, she shivered and waited with restless anticipation for him to reach her breasts. Her little pink nipple tightened even more when he took it into his mouth, using his tongue and the ice to caress it. It melted rapidly against her hot skin, leaving a sheen of moisture behind as he trailed it from one breast to the other.
She cried out, her hips bucking when he moved lower, tracing a line over her stomach toward her navel.
“Camden … oh … oh, that’s … good heavens!”
Glancing up at her, he couldn’t help a chuckle at her shocked expression. He had introduced her to many pleasures since their affair and consequent marriage. This one, however, was new. He felt gratified to know his understanding of his wife proved as good as he’d thought it was. She enjoyed what he did to her.
Grasping her thighs, he spread them even more, reaching into the bucket for another shard of ice. Placing it on his tongue, he lowered his head and nuzzled her mons, finding his way through her downy curls to the intimate flesh within.
She gripped the edge of the table, her fingernails scraping the underside in reaction to the ice making contact with her hot, wet cunt. Swirling his tongue in slow circles, he massaged her inner folds and swollen nub with the ice before skimming lower, toward her honeyed opening. He thrust it inside her with his tongue, continuing to suckle and nibble when it melted away.
“Ah, Camden … yes!” she cried, her hips moving of their own accord in tandem with his tongue strokes.
Reaching beneath her, he cupped her buttocks, lifting her to the perfect angle to continue devouring her succulent flesh. Her moans and whispered words of passion washed over him, filling his mind with pride in his ability to pleasure her, and his cock with urgency that caused it to swell even more. His erection had grown painful, throbbing and pulsing with the blood filling and engorging it to its limit.
However, he had more planned for his wife—a new exploration they’d been building to for weeks now. It required patience on his part, and he couldn’t very well do it if he couldn’t control the urge to thrust into her without preamble and fuck her until he exploded inside her.
Closing his eyes he moved one hand between her legs, thrusting two fingers just below his circling tongue. Thrusting them in and out of her sheath, he continued lapping at her clit, drawing another cry of pleasure from her lips. She shuddered once more, the spasms gripping his fingers indicating her coming climax. Clamping his lips around the pearl of her pleasure, he suckled with relentless insistence, and thrust harder with his fingers, slamming them in all the way to the third knuckle.
She screamed out her release, trembling and falling apart in his hands, while he rode the waves of her completion until they faded away. Only then did he still his fingers inside of her.
Standing, he reached up and began untying his cravat. Recovering quickly, Maggie sat up and reached out to help him. Her hands brushed his away and she snatched the neck cloth away before unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt. He shrugged them away, closing his eyes as she reached out to caress him, her gentle touch tracing the lines and bulges of his chest and abdomen.
She paused at his breeches, gaze coming up to meet his. “I want you, Camden. Now.”
Lowering his gaze to where her fingers rested at his waistband, he placed one hand over hers. Lowering it to his crotch, he cupped her hand against his cock and thrust into her palm. She gave him a gentle squeeze, stoking the flames of his need even higher and hotter.
He allowed her to open the breeches and free him from his drawers. His mouth went dry as she palmed him, circling the engorged head with one hand and reaching down to cup his sac with the other. Head spinning from the heady pleasure of her hands on him, he braced his hands against the table and leaned against her, breath racing as she stroked and fondled him.
“How do you want me, love?” he murmured, brushing his lips over the hollow between her neck and collarbone. “Do you want me to spread your legs right here and now and make love to you on this table? Shall I lay you on the floor, or sit in this chair and let you ride me until you come? Or should I turn you around and bend you over this table and fuck you from behind?”
“Hmmmm,” she mumbled, steadily stroking his cock and coaxing a bead of moisture from the enlarged head. “So many tempting choices. I want them all, and I hardly know where to begin.”
He smiled. “Why don’t we try something new? Would you like that?”
She leaned back to meet his gaze. “Something new?”
“Do you trust me, Maggie?”
She pressed a short, gentle kiss against his lips. “Of course I do.”
“Good. Let me give you pleasure unlike anything you’ve known. Let me show you.”
Giving him another squeeze, she grinned when he groaned, falling against her and fighting the urge to spend right there in her hand.
“I am yours, Camden,” she whispered, her voice husky in his ear. “Do what you want with me.”
Biting his lower lip, he again fought for control. If she kept saying things like that, he wouldn’t be able to maintain his composure.
Stepping back from the table, he grasped her waist and urged her to her feet. Once she stood, he turned her until she faced away from him. Coming close, he pressed her back against him, trembling when his cock came to rest against her bottom. Grasping her hips, he brought her even closer, thrusting into the cleft between her buttocks. He heard his own breathing become harsh as he plunged forward, teasing his shaft with the feel of her damp curls and slick inner flesh.
Grasping one shoulder, he placed a kiss on the nape of her neck before g
iving her a gentle push and lowering her toward the table. She went obediently, resting her upper body on the surface, and instinctively arching her back to offer her lovely derriere at the perfect angle.
He bent over her, placing a kiss between her shoulders, and making his way steadily lower, tracing her spine. Grasping her hips, he kneaded the soft flesh of her buttocks, spreading her and gazing down at her exposed intimate flesh. Delving one hand between her legs, he teased her cunt, finding it still soaked from her first climax.
“So wet, darling,” he murmured, searching for her clit and stroking it, coaxing even more moisture from her core. She whimpered, wiggling her hips against his fingers, urging him to thrust them inside her. He obliged her, dipping first one, then two fingers into her slick sheath. Pumping them in and out slowly, he turned his hand so that he could press his thumb against the tight entrance to her back passage.
It slid inside of her easily, as he’d been pleasuring her this way for some time now. He watched his fingers disappear inside of her, thrusting in and out, hypnotized by the sight of her taking him into both entrances.
“Your lovely little arse feels so good, Maggie,” he whispered, removing his fingers from her cunt. Soaked in her juices, his index finger slid easily into her tight, forbidden sheath. He took his time, gently stroking and working to accustom her to the invasion and the feel of him stretching her. “It would feel so good around my cock. You want that, don’t you Maggie? Me inside your arse.”
She whimpered, moving against his thrusting finger, silently begging for more. He quickened his strokes while pressing the head of his cock to the mouth of her cunt.
“I love the feel of you, so hot and wet … I could never tire of loving you. But I want to feel you this way too—the only way I have yet to love you. Do you want me that way, Maggie? You have to tell me, because it’s your turn to talk, remember? Tell me what you want.”
A Honeymoon Masquerade Page 2