Page 31 of His Arranged Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #5)
The books had never mentioned this , none of them.
She arched her back, gripping at his shoulders as if to press him further against her.
She was sure that Lucien chuckled, the noise sending thrilling vibrations through her, but there was no time to notice much except the rapid building of her climax.
At her peak, Frances tangled her hand in Lucien’s hair, pulling far harder than she had intended. He growled again, but she barely noticed through the haze of pleasure.
The aftershocks rushed through her, leaving her gasping, with spotty vision. Lucien pulled back, head tilted, and watched her. He was out of breath, shoulders heaving, hair delightfully disarranged, and his lips reddened and swollen.
“ Le petit mort, ” he mumbled.
“What does that mean?” Frances gasped, not entirely sensible of what she was saying.
He grinned. “Never mind.”
Swallowing hard, she pushed herself up on her elbows a little more. Lucien had made no move to touch himself, or to have her touch him, but she could quite clearly see a bulge of arousal in the front of his trousers.
That’s it , I suppose? The books were not clear.
She cleared her throat. “Would you like me to…” she trailed off in what she hoped was a pointed and meaningful manner, and gestured vaguely.
He pursed his lips. “Would you like to?”
“I would like to try. It’s only fair, after all.”
He stared at her for another long moment, and then raised his hands to his hair, smoothing down the tangled locks.
“This is not about what is fair and what is not,” he answered, somewhat bluntly. “You needn’t worry. I can control myself.”
Was that a snub? Did he not want her to touch him? Frances felt deflated, somehow. Perhaps disappointed?
“It is nothing personal,” Lucien added, a trifle too quickly. “It’s simply my preference at this moment.”
She had no idea what that meant, but nodded as if she did. Then he leaned forward to press a quick kiss to her lips once more, and the happy, languid feeling of satisfaction came flooding back. Winding her arms around his shoulders, Frances pulled him down for another kiss.
I would be happy never to leave this room, she thought hazily.
Lucien unlocked the door and peered carefully out into the hallway. Frances stood behind him, smothering giggles.
“I feel like a naughty schoolgirl,” she whispered.
Lucien snorted. “I can assure you, then, your schooldays were much more enjoyable than mine. There, we’re safe. Nobody is out here.”
“It’s not as if we’d get into trouble. We are married , after all.”
He threw her a grin. “So, you think Lady Quince would not mind hearing about the use we gave her private reading room?”
Frances paused and winced. “Ah. I didn’t think of that.”
Her legs felt like jelly, just like before. Her thighs were uncomfortably slick, and there were a few faintly sore patches where Lucien’s stubble had scraped against sensitive skin.
Frances could not find it in herself to care, however. In fact, she desperately wanted to do it again, as soon as possible.
As soon as they stepped out of the hallway into the ballroom—which seemed entirely too bright to Frances’s sore eyes—Benjamin pounced on them.
“There you are,” he said, grinning. “I hope you two don’t intend to sneak away. Lady Quince won’t be happy.”
Lucien glanced down at Frances and lifted his eyebrows.
She beamed up at him. “I’d like to stay. There’s more dancing to be done. When I’ve regained my strength, that is.”
Color swept across her cheeks as she said that, even though Benjamin could not possibly have known what she meant. The poor man only nodded, oblivious.
“A good choice. Well, Lord Easton has gone home. He’s been drunk since he arrived, apparently, and has annoyed a good many people. He won’t be back.”
“That’s good. Thank you, Benjamin,” Lucien said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good man.”
“I certainly am. Now, if you’ll excuse me, a new dance is beginning, and I believe I have a partner.”
Throwing an impish grin at them both, Benjamin went scurrying off into the crowd.
Lucien turned to smile at Frances. “I believe my friend is growing on you.”
“I do like him more than I did,” Frances admitted. “Still, I am not sure that his was the face I wanted to see first when we left that room. It was a little unsettling when one is still feeling like that , if you understand my meaning.”
Chuckling, Lucien leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“I do understand your meaning. And imagine my surprise, learning that you enjoyed me claiming you in public so very much. What a wicked little thing you are.”
Frances flushed a deep red, excitement fluttering inside her.
If he dragged me back into that little room to do it all again, she thought hazily, I would go without protest.
Aloud, she said, “Claim me? Why, my dear duke, you have not claimed me yet, not by any stretch of the imagination.”
He gave a low, wicked chuckle. “I believe I have said this before, Frances, and I shall say it again and again until you and everybody else around us believes it. You are the Duchess of Blackstone, the finest woman in London, if not in all of England, and you are very much mine .”