His body roared with an eagerness to fulfill his wedding vows. Eleanor melted against him with matched expectation.
A male voice splintered through the moment.
“Are you Joseph Paisley?”
Charles broke off the kiss and regarded a young couple, standing anxiously at one another’s side.
“I believe our time is up.” Charles led Eleanor from the building with Lottie following them. Thomas remained behind a moment longer to collect the marriage lines.
No sooner had Charles stepped into the freshness of clean air, away from the prevailing heat and sickness in the building, Lottie threw up her hands in exasperation. “What the devil was that?”
Eleanor threaded her bare fingers through Charles’s and laughed. “The most outrageous wedding of all time.”
Charles reveled in the silky warmth of her palm resting comfortably against his. Eleanor was now the Duchess of Somersville. His wife.
The poignancy of that moment was not lost on him, and suddenly he found himself possessive of her, and eternally glad to have her at his side and not that of Devonington, or even Rawley.
She was his.
* * *
The celebration of their union was a quiet affair, and one that ended quickly—much to Eleanor’s delight. Or rather to her delight, excitement, anticipation, nervousness, and everything else that loomed in her expectation of impending intimacy.
Charles led her to his room at the inn by a gentle hand, his gaze locked on hers as he opened the door. Though he had been there only one night, his wonderful scent of rich, foreign spices lingered in a room identical to her own. He closed the door and plunged the room into total silence.
Her breathing came fast and her body buzzed with heady anticipation as he approached her.
“My wife.” His mouth lifted in a charming half smile. “Do you have any idea how long I have wanted you?”
Her heart leapt at such words. “I believe I do have an idea.”
He grinned and pulled her to him. His mouth lowered to hers in a slow, sensual kiss that told her they had all the time in the world, and that he planned to savor every second of it. His fingers skimmed down her gown and began to work at the delicate line of buttons going down her back.
“As beautiful as you are with this on, I imagine you are far lovelier with it off.”
A soft sound of longing hummed from the back of her throat as each button fell open in turn under his subtle touch and widened her gown further and further. He watched as he undressed her...as the fabric began to loosen and gape.
Wanton though it might be, there was a part of Eleanor that wanted him to disrobe her, to leave the hot tension of her skin exposed to the open air. And, if she were being entirely honest, a wickeder part of her longed to see him as well.
At last the gown slipped off one shoulder and Charles eased it carefully down to the ground, so she stood in only her unmentionables. Her heart pounded in her chest with an intoxicating blend of expectation and excitement.
Charles paused for a long, slow breath and then pulled free the tie holding her petticoat in place. It shifted from her waist and puddled on the floor. He immediately set to work drawing the bow from her corset, where it was laced up at the front, one loop at a time. Within mere seconds the strings hung limp at her sides and Charles swept his hands over her shoulders, caressing her as he pushed the corset from her body.
“Your chemise,” he said in a deep, smooth voice. “Take it off.”
Eleanor paused then. For it was one thing to have her husband undress her, and entirely another to do it herself as he watched. Heat singed her cheeks and the warmth in other places grew hotter still.
She took the smooth fabric between her fingertips, carefully pulling it up her body and over her head. She let it float to the floor and stood before him wearing only pale silk stockings tied at her thighs. He took his time taking her in, lifting his steady stare up her legs to her breasts, then settling on the thatch of red hair between her legs.
“Stunning,” he said. “It would appear I was right. As lovely as you were in your gown, you’re far lovelier out of it.”
He closed the distance between them and delicately ran a finger from her shoulder down the side of her breast, along the curve of her hip to her thigh.
Her breathing grew faster and her skin burned where he’d touched her. The pleasant throbbing between her thighs increased its tempo in eagerness to experience more of the pleasure they’d shared.
His hand curled around the swell of her bottom, feather-light, and he caught her lips with his own. The kiss was tender at first, until his tongue touched hers and the embers were fanned to flames. Eleanor lifted her arms to his shoulders and tilted her face toward his, her own tongue seeking and stroking.
His delicate touch at her bottom became more inquisitive, more restless, roaming up to her waist, up to her breasts, where he teased at her sensitive nipples, and then down, down, down to where he’d stroked her before.
At the first sweep of his finger over the source of her need Eleanor’s knees buckled. She pushed at his jacket, shoving it from his shoulders so it fell unceremoniously to the floor.
“I want to see you, too.” Her voice was husky with lust.
She moved to the buttons of his waistcoat. Her fingers trembled, fumbling in her impatience to have him as naked before her as she was to him.
“Relinquish your stockings,” he said against her mouth. “And I’ll remove my waistcoat.”
She obliged, rolling her stockings down her legs. Her skin was alight with intense sensitivity, so that even her own touch along her thighs left her flesh prickling with pleasure.
Charles unbuttoned his waistcoat with expertise. And he did not stop there. He next removed the collar from his shirt, revealing a hint of curling black hair, before tugging the cloth over his head. Lines of muscle showed along his stomach in tight bands, and the power of his chest swelled beneath a smattering of black hair.
Eleanor drew in a soft breath.
He pulled off his boots and stockings while the strength of his arms flexed and bunched in the most fascinating of ways, powerful muscle working under firm flesh with each movement. He worked at the buttons of his breeches, where the thick column of his shaft showed under the fine fabric.
She made a little sound in her throat before she could stop herself. She’d thought of this for far longer than any respectable girl ought to have. The memory of what his fingers could do mingled with the lurid tales from the journal, swirling into hot lust in her mind.
He pulled the loosened breeches from his narrow hips and stood before her in his full, powerful glory, the proof of his need jutting toward her.
No sooner had she begun to admire him than he drew her into his arms, his warm skin on hers and his shaft pressed hot against her belly. The hair on his chest scratched pleasantly against her nipples and Eleanor’s pulse fluttered with erratic, wild beats.
For this time there was no innocence to protect, no barriers to keep them apart. There would be no stopping until all her curiosities had been thoroughly sated.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Charles held his wife against him, skin to skin, pounding heart to pounding heart, and knew there was no place in all the world he’d rather be. Every inch of Eleanor was wonderfully silky and supple, and her mouth was eager beneath his.
Her legs parted around his thigh and he knew all too well what it was that she wanted. He skimmed his fingers over her inner thighs and reveled in the eager intake of her breath. He found the wet heat between her legs and slid the pad of his middle finger over her core until he reached the little bud. Her hips twitched upward reflexively and she gave a sigh of pleasure.
Charles bit back a groan and his shaft flexed against her. At this point the greatest feat of his life would be remaining in control and not throwing himself upon her as
he so desperately wanted to.
He continued to stroke, teasing the little knot of her desire. He carefully dipped his finger inside her, fearful of causing her discomfort. She was impossibly tight, slick with wet heat and promise. Charles gave a long, low groan of anticipation.
Eleanor gave a breathless cry and swayed slightly. “Yes...” she whispered. “Please. More of that.”
His manhood lurched. There was not much more that Charles could take. He needed her on the mattress, spread before him. He wanted to touch her, tease her, ready her. Taste her.
He caught her parted legs and spread them over his waist, lifting her in order to carry her to the bed. She moaned and ground her body against his. The heat of her rubbed over the length of his shaft and the decadence of such temptation was so much that he damn near dropped her.
He clutched her to him, carrying her the few feet to the four-poster, where he lay her down on the firm mattress and bent over her. She did not uncurl her legs from his waist. She locked her heels against his buttocks and continued to grind against him with a frustrated craving that readily echoed in the ache of his tight balls.
God, but she was a sweet enticement. It would be so easy to shift his shaft against her and glide in. The very idea made his nerves jangle with insistence.
But when he did finally take her there would be a virgin’s pain. He had to be gentle, careful. Slow.
She panted against his mouth and let her touch wander over him with abandon, hot hands making an exploration that damn near drove him mad. Over his naked back, across his chest, raking over his nipples before driving down his stomach.
He’d managed to kiss her throat on his path to her nipple, when her fingers curled around his shaft. His world stopped and his mind plunged into utter blankness, forgoing any thought but the excruciating pleasure radiating through him.
“Will you teach me?” she asked, her voice low. “To pleasure you? To take you in my mouth?”
She sat up slightly and regarded him. Her carefully crafted coiffure had become mussed and several long tendrils spilled down her shoulders.
She pursed her reddened lips. “Like in the journals. It seemed to bring the author great pleasure. And if it brings you pleasure I’d like to try.”
Charles swallowed. “Eleanor...”
She slid out from underneath him and off the bed, so she stood at its side. Charles turned to watch her, still too damn stunned to come up with a polite answer.
She was his wife.
And yet the idea of her hot mouth surrounding his shaft...
With careful precision she pulled the pins from her hair and let them plop to the thick carpet one by one, until the glory of her red hair spilled down her shoulders and breasts like she was some mythical mermaid. She bent over him and kissed him, her tongue expertly finding his. Her breasts arched to his chest and she whimpered against his lips.
His body lit with wanting immediately, insistent and demanding. Her fingers brushed over the head of his shaft and a groan tore from his throat. She explored him, touching, stroking, cupping. His world was pinpointed on the the sheer pleasure of it all, where it radiated out from his shaft and coursed through him.
“Teach me to take you in my mouth.”
She looked up at him with an expression both sultry and imploring. To hear his wife speak so intimately, and with such base words, drove him absolutely mad with wanting.
“You’ll need to get on your knees,” he heard himself say.
She gracefully obeyed, and gazed at him for further instruction. Her attention shifted to his shaft and she licked her lips.
“Take me in your hand and guide me into your mouth...” Charles somehow managed to get the words out.
Her fingers curled around the base and her lips parted just over the head, the most sensitive part. His shaft disappeared several inches into her mouth.
“Close your lips,” Charles instructed. “And suck.”
Her mouth closed around him, hot and wet, and she drew him in with an obedient suck. Charles’s balls tightened and he knew he would not be able to take much of this before she unmanned him. Sweat gathered along his brow and his entire body trembled with the effort to stave off his climax.
“Move your head. Up and down. Over...” God, he could barely talk.
Eleanor slid the suckling warmth of her mouth toward the head and then sank back down again, halfway down his shaft. She did this three more times, bobbing her head over him until he was near bursting.
“Enough.” It came out as a growl. On his honor, he truly could take no more.
Eleanor released him with a startled expression. “Have I hurt you?”
He swept her onto the bed and braced himself over her. “I’ve been ravenous for you for too long without having you, Eleanor. I cannot take much more before...” He smiled. “It’s your turn.”
“My turn?”
He was already kissing a path down to her breasts, where he paused to flick his tongue over her nipples before descending to her slender stomach.
“I’d be willing to wager this wasn’t in that journal.”
Before she could offer any protest he kissed his way down to the fiery curls between her legs and ran the tip of his tongue over her glistening center.
* * *
Eleanor’s awareness blazed with pure bliss.
Charles watched her and traced his tongue over her sex.
Pleasure tingled through her and prickled at the tips of her nipples. A soft cry escaped her mouth and she was only mildly aware of Charles spreading her thighs further apart.
He flicked his tongue where his fingers had been before, sliding it over her, circling the part of her that made everything quiver, plunging it inside her. The hunger and the longing all knotted together, and wound her into a deliciously tight ball of glorious feelings.
Something entered her, long and deep, while the caress of his tongue twirled over the little nub that brought such breathtaking euphoria. Eleanor cried out at the sheer exquisiteness of the blended sensations, and glanced down at him to find his finger thrusting into her while he continued to lick and tease.
Her body wound in on itself, tighter and tighter. So close, so close, so close...
But then, just as she was fully prepared to careen over, Charles withdrew his attentions and rose over her. Those brilliant blue eyes of his found hers, unfocused and heavy-lidded with lust. His body was hot and hard against hers, and the length she’d so eagerly loved with her mouth now pressed with heavy insistence against her inner thigh.
Eleanor arched her hips upward, eager for Charles to satisfy the maddening, thundering want raging through her.
He braced himself so his weight did not crush her. His powerful body flexed with the effort, and she could not stop herself from stroking his beautifully corded body.
He remained locked in place, unmoving.
Her hips rolled of their own volition, undulating in a primal dance she hadn’t needed to be taught. “Please, Charles...”
He kissed her, long and sweet. But Eleanor didn’t want sweet. Sweet wouldn’t quell her ferocious craving.
“Please, Charles...” she panted again.
He rested his damp forehead against hers and clenched his eyes shut, as if he were in pain. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said raggedly.
She knew there would be pain. She’d overheard the conversation of recently married ladies.
“You won’t,” Eleanor ground out. “Please. You must do this or I’ll go mad with wanting.”
He opened his eyes and flexed his brows in consideration. Finally his shaft shifted from her inner thigh to the throbbing ache of her need. He pushed into her gingerly.
More. She needed more.
She spread her legs wider and he pressed forward, until the very entrance of her stretched around the girth of him.
> He clenched his jaw. “Are you ready?”
Eleanor nodded, and opened her mouth to speak just as he thrust into her. A flash of pain burst through the haze of her lust.
Charles froze where he remained, still buried in her depths. He was large within her, slightly uncomfortable, and the feeling was foreign and awkward.
He touched her face. “I’ve hurt you...”
She shook her head, unable to speak. Her body would adjust, and then there would be gratification.
He pulled out and a ripple of pleasure went through her. She drew her legs around him and rocked her hips with the same natural motion as before. He followed the slow pace she set, slowly easing deeper inside, and deeper still. His breath came fast against their shared kisses.
Just as Eleanor had known would happen, her sex became accustomed to him—not only accustomed to the invasion of her intimate place, but welcoming it with slick, wet heat. His hand moved between them and found the spot where he would drive her to the edge of ecstasy. He circled it with his thumb in time with his thrusts, until Eleanor’s body tensed with impending release.
“Yes...” he breathed against her ear. “Yes, come for me.”
He didn’t need to ask. She couldn’t stop it even if she tried. Her body clenched until she feared she would begin to tremble, and then the pleasure exploded around her like the flashing fireworks of Vauxhall Gardens in the night sky.
The spasming of her core gripped around Charles’s length repeatedly, further heightening their bliss and prolonging their satisfaction. Charles pushed firmly inside her and gave a tight grunt. He twitched within her depths and a delicious wave shuddered through her.
Unwilling and unable to move, they remained in their joined position for a long moment, both gasping to catch their frantic breath.
Eleanor’s heart raced harder and faster than it ever had before, frenzied with the excitement of their intimacy. And as her breath began to calm, a quiet contentment swept over her, bringing total and complete satiation.
Charles slowly pulled away from her and motioned her to remain where she was while he strode across the room in all his nude glory. She watched his form appreciatively, enjoying the play of light and shadows over the powerful planes of his back.
How to Tempt a Duke Page 20