Page 56 of Forever Her Bachelor

She hid her face in St. Clara’s chest as a chorus of laughter followed them. It was rather amusing how open with everything the Scots were, which was vastly different from being in London Society.

Once they were in the safety of their room, which was smaller than the one they had stayed in the previous night, St. Clara fell back against the door, bringing Pippa with him. They laughed as his mouth found hers. She was young and free, but most of all she was happy.

St. Clara trailed a path of hot, wet kisses along Pippa’s neck. She tilted her head back and moaned.

With her chest pressed against his, Pippa could feel the ghost of his hands deftly undoing the back buttons of her dress blindly as his lips fused to her neck. He pulled back, looking so young as he smiled at her, his hair hanging in his eyes. Running her fingers through the soft strands, she pushed it back, leaving her exposed arm by his needy mouth. He kissed the flesh, eliciting another moan from her, his tongue coming out to tease.

Pippa looked around for the familiar gray and white cat. “Where is Newton?” Though she desperately wanted to enjoy her husband, she couldn’t just forget about Newt, who had been her loyal companion for years.

“I’m not sleeping with that damn cat again. He’s with Agnes.” Her husband continued undressing her, her dress becoming looser with every button he freed.

“I’ll have you know, sir, that the cat is now yours by marriage.” She brazenly pressed her breasts into his chest.

St. Clara shook his head, leaning against the door to stare at her with a cheeky grin on his plump lips. “Well, in that case, I believe I shall leave him in Scotland?—”

“You will do no such thing! If you want me, you want my cat, and you want me … don’t you?” She whispered the last part of her sentence.

Without uttering a word, he released his hold on her before he began untying the yellow ribbon that had bound them to each other for the last five hours.

“W-what are you doing?” Pippa asked, panicked. Being bound to him was a rare connection that she felt both physically and mentally.

Suddenly she was transported back in time to when she was younger and believed in him more than anyone. Pippa wanted nothing more than to cling to the overwhelming emotion of it all, and she would.

For one night, she would not dissect the events of that day nine years earlier. There wasn’t any room for the ghost of his father or a woman she had never known.

Tonight was only for them…

Pippa and Chauncey.

Pulling the soft fabric of the ribbon lose, Chauncey flung it around his neck, jutting his chin out to her in challenge. “Takeoff your clothes, Kitten.” His eyes gleamed wickedly in the candlelit room.

Taking a step back, Pippa allowed the simple blue dress to fall from her shoulders. She grinned at the shock that he expertly had freed her, but she had to remember he was the Duke of St. Clara, after all.

Ignoring his heated stare, she continued to undress, taking in his manly form with panted breath. His coat slid off his shoulders, falling to the floor, and she stopped all movement to watch the glorious sight of her husband. Next was the waistcoat that hugged his muscular body to perfection. He stopped unbuttoning, a wicked gleam in his eyes, a teasing smirk at the corner of his lips.

“Keep going,” she instructed, wanting to see all of him.

“Naughty, Kitten, he whispered. “Take off your clothes, or I will stay dressed.” He folded his arms over his chest, waiting for her to continue.

Pippa allowed her dress to pool down, leaving her standing in her stays, shift, drawers, and stockings. She made quick work of ridding herself of her stays, desperate to feel his body around hers.

Last night, she had discovered that she very much liked the weight of him caging her in so that she was helpless to his will.

Chauncey walked past her, sitting down on the embroidered bench placed at the foot of the bed. He removed his boots and stockings before he stood to undo the flaps of his breeches.

Pippa was mesmerized as he pulled his breeches down his muscled legs. She’d had no idea that a man’s legs could be so appealing.

As she removed her shift, the cool air of the room tickled her nipples. A soft moan escaped her lips, her senses overstimulated by the events of the day.

“Come here,” her husband called out, pulling his shirt over his head, not caring where it landed.

Pippa walked over to him in nothing but her drawers and stockings. Her breasts swayed with every step she took. His hungry gaze on her flesh made her breath catch.

She once hated the size of her overly large breasts, but being worshipped by him changed that. Desire replaced insecurity.

Stopping in front of him, her heart stuttered as Chauncey leaned in, capturing her breast with his sinful mouth. Cool hands wrapped around her, holding her upright as she offered herself to him. Squeezing her other breast, he switched his attention to it, licking and sucking the puckered flesh of her nipple.

Pleasure soared through Pippa—heaven—her fingers grasping the silky strands of his hair. Her core pulsated, needy; she could feel wetness between her thighs, and Pippa wanted him to kiss her there again.