Page 29 of The Duke’s Indecent Scandal (Indecent Dukes #1)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

G regory

Distraction was the name of the game, Gregory had decided. He could feel his bride’s hesitation where there had been none before and knew he had not entirely assuaged her fears. The only way to do that was to get through it so she could see that she did not need to be afraid, that he would not unduly cause her pain—though if it turned out she liked some bite with her pleasure, he would not be unhappy.

Perhaps he could even test the waters now to see how she responded and, hopefully, demonstrate that not all pain had to be bad.

If she could meet his needs, all his needs, he may not ever want for another lover. If he were being entirely truthful with himself, that was what he was hoping for because he already did not desire another lover. He wanted her.

Letting her legs drop so she could slowly slide down his front, Gregory kept their lips fused together as he began to move his hands over her body. Tiffany moaned against his lips, shuddering as his hands slid over the silky fabric of her wedding gown, caressing her through the layers. He moved to the back of the dress and found the buttons and loops there.

He was an accomplished enough lover that he did not need to lift his head from the kiss to undo them. Though he did take his time with it, moving them slowly toward his bed. As her soft body rubbed against his, the thick length of his erection pushed against the front of his pants, pressing into her stomach as he kissed her breathless.

The initial impulse to take her to her rooms had been crushed under the desire to have her in his bed when he claimed her. He’d never shared his bed with another lady before. Their bed, not his. That was always the rule.

But Tiffany was his wife, and that already made her an exception. There was something powerfully possessive about using his bed to bed his bride.

She shivered against him as she felt her dress being undone.

More distraction was needed. And perhaps some balance in their positions.

Lifting his head from the kiss, he stared down at her.

“Untie my cravat,” he commanded her, his voice husky with his need. Licking her swollen lips, Tiffany moved her hands up to tug at the ends of his cravat, loosening it from around his neck. “Now, my jacket.”

Slim fingers slid over his chest, pushing under the fabric of his jacket, helping him shrug it from his shoulders. He let it fall to the floor, uncaring. Tiffany’s gaze tracked down for a moment, as if she wanted to protest leaving it there, but he pulled her attention back to him with another command.

“My waistcoat, little swan.”

Buttons, more buttons. His were far larger than the ones along the back of her dress, though. He finished undoing hers as she worked on the ones on his waistcoat, leaving a trail of kisses along her jawline and down her neck while she gasped.

“I cannot concentrate while you do that!” she protested, fumbling with the final button on his waistcoat.

“Good.” He chuckled at the exasperated sound she made. “I do not want you to be able to concentrate.” He’d reached the end of her buttons and tugged at the fabric, slipping the gown off her shoulder. It slid out from beneath the heavy necklace around her throat and down the side, baring part of her breast along with her shoulder.

Enjoying her gasp, he leaned down to kiss the newly exposed skin, and she made a sound in the back of her throat as she managed to pull the last button on his waistcoat free. The garment joined his jacket on the floor as he moved to the side, pulling Tiffany along with him, lifting his head long enough to lift her dress from her as well.

Her petticoats and bustle joined the clothing on the floor a few moments later, along with his shirt, then her stays, leaving her in her stockings, her chemise, and the shimmering Clarence sapphires. The chemise was a pale white trimmed with blue lace that allowed a glimpse of her creamy breasts and pink nipples as it moved against her.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured.

She peeked up at him shyly, cheeks bright pink from her blush. She truly did not realize how beautiful she was, something which he was determined to change.

So as not to frighten her, he did not take off his breeches yet. Instead, he gently lifted her chemise over her head, baring her breasts and the furred cleft of her pussy to him completely. The jewels winking at her throat, her wrist, and her ears, the tiara still adorning her curls, made for a stunning contrast to her naked body.

Tiffany

Gregory’s gaze roved over her in a shockingly blatant manner that made her insides tighten. She did not know what to think. Part of her wanted to hide because she was not supposed to be naked in front of a man… but he was her husband, which meant she was allowed to be in front of him. But it was so hard not to cover herself, even though he was obviously enjoying looking at her.

He did not seem to think that her breasts were excessive or her hips unsightly or her body unshapely. Tiffany’s hand unconsciously drifted up, and she did not realize she was rubbing her arm on the spot where her mother would pinch her until Gregory gently put his hand atop her arm.

“Do not cover yourself,” he said firmly, and she realized that by reaching across herself, she’d covered her breasts. She had not meant to do so, had not even realized what she was doing until he’d redirected her.

Stepping forward, Gregory claimed her lips again before she could decide whether or not to try to explain. His hands moved over her back, over her bottom, down to her thighs, and he bent slightly at the knee. Tiffany found herself being lifted against him, the soft fabric of his pants rubbing against her inner thighs. Her breasts pressed against his chest, the wiry hair adorning his hard muscles abrading the sensitive tips of her nipples as her breasts bounced.

She gasped as he tipped her back onto the bed, his hard body settling between the legs, his hands squeezing the backs of her sensitive thighs. She felt so small beneath him, so dainty, so helpless, yet, for some reason, she liked that. Because she trusted him. Because she knew that even if he did have to hurt her, he would do his best not to hurt her too much.

Lifting his lips from hers, he sat back against his heels, his hand entwining with hers and bringing her wrist up to his lips.

“You are still fearful,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to the inside of her wrist, just above where her bracelet had slid down, sending a tremor through her body.

The cool, heavy necklace around her neck made her throat feel tight as she tried to catch her breath.

“I am trying not to be,” she said.

His other hand slid from behind her thigh up to her hip, moving higher to her breast. He cupped the soft mound, his fingers caressing her, making her moan at the sensation of his touch against her bare skin.

“Not all pain has to be bad, you know,” he said, nipping at her fingertips at the same time his closed around her nipple. She gasped as he pinched the little bud, her insides clenching at the shot of sensation that went through her.

It was pain, yes, but also pleasure. Arousal.

The bud throbbed in his grip as he rolled it between his finger and thumb, increasing the pressure until she cried out, her back arching. It did hurt. But she wanted more. Her other nipple ached in envy, its neglect leaving her feeling unbalanced.

“I… oh…” She could not find it in herself to form words as Gregory released her other hand so he could give her other breast and nipple the same treatment.

“Reach above you. Hold on to the headboard.” The order was followed by a feeling of relief because she had not known what to do with her hands. Gregory’s eyes gleamed as he filled his own palms with her breasts, squeezing and kneading, while Tiffany grasped the wooden headboard above her. The position stretched her out indecently, almost lewdly. Her breasts pushed up into the air, as if begging him for more. With the way he was positioned, kneeling between her legs with her thighs draped over his own, her entire body was open and vulnerable to him.

Gregory lowered his head to her breasts, and Tiffany cried out at the hot, wet sensation of his mouth closing over one aching bud. He did not give her any quarter there. While his hand pinched and twisted one nipple, his mouth suckled and nipped the other, his teeth scraping over the tender surface in a manner that had her writhing against him. She could not help herself, even as her cheeks heated in embarrassment at her reaction.

He was ravishing her senses as much as her body, and she had no defense against him.

He was the first man to have ever kissed her.

The first man to have ever touched her in such a manner.

To ignite the spark inside her.

A spark that had grown to a roaring conflagration she had no idea how to quell, other than through him.

“Gregory!” She cried out his name—a shocked protest, a heartfelt plea.

Rather than responding, he moved in one quick, smooth undulation so he was no longer supporting her lower body with his. Instead, his body was stretched out on the bed, and rather than his hips between her thighs, now his shoulders were. Tiffany stared down the length of her body at him.

She could see that her flush had gone far beyond her cheeks, down her neck to her chest, leaving patchy pink skin over the swells of her breasts. Her nipples were hard buds, pointing at the canopy of his bed, shiny from the ministrations of his lips and tongue. The furred triangle of hair atop her mound did nothing to protect her from his gaze as he draped her thighs over his shoulders, lowering himself to her most sensitive flesh.

Tiffany’s breath caught in her throat as he looked up at her, their gazes meeting over her body, then he deliberately held her gaze as he pressed his mouth to her nether lips. She cried out, back arching to press herself more firmly against him, her head falling back as the strain of keeping it upright was no longer tenable.

It was the library all over again, except this time, she did not need to hold herself up, and he was not hindered by her skirts. Indeed, he was able to do so much more. Her heels dug into the rippling muscles on his back as his tongue went to work on her folds, licking and feasting on her arousal from the source rather than licking it from his fingers as he’d done before. With her legs draped over his shoulders, he bent her in half, his hands reaching up to close around her breasts, returning to massaging them, tweaking her nipples as she was overwhelmed by the sensual assault.

“Gregory! Oh, please… please…” She writhed, her head tossing back and forth as he drove her to her second climax of the day. By comparison, the one in the carriage had been rushed. Frenzied. This one went on and on, the tension bursting into pleasure that rippled through her like fireworks across her senses, waves of them going on and on as he did not stop suckling.

She could not bear it as her body became ultra-sensitive against the pull of his mouth. Releasing the headboard, she reached down to grip his hair and try to pull him away from her pulsing flesh. To her surprise, his head lifted immediately, and she panted for breath, her fingers wreathed through his dark locks, her heart pounding in her chest like a wild horse across the moors.

She stared back at him, dizzy from the pulsing sensations that still ricocheted through her body.

“Naughty, little swan. I told you to keep your hands on the headboard.” Though he called her naughty and was clearly admonishing her, the way he said it did not feel like a critique.

“I’m sorry!” She immediately let go, stretching toward the headboard, but it was too late.

It happened so quickly that she was not entirely sure how it happened. One moment, she was on her back, reaching for the headboard; the next, the entire world was in motion, then she landed on her stomach with a soft oof. Her breasts were crushed beneath her, the sensitive nipples pressed against the fabric of the bedding, which felt far rougher against her front than it had her back. Her legs were still spread, with Gregory between them. She could feel his hard, hairy thighs against the tender insides of hers, so she could not close them.

“What—” she floundered, trying to get her bearings, but before she could, his hand came down on her bottom with a stinging swat. “Ow!”

The chuckle that drifted to her ears seemed entirely incongruous to the situation. She stared at the headboard, which was only inches away from her hands, somewhat aghast. If she had ever been spanked before, it was so long ago in her childhood that she did not remember. The sensation—and her reaction to it—were not what she would have expected if she’d ever thought about the possibility of it happening to her as an adult.

Gregory rubbed the spot where he’d just swatted her, almost as though he was rubbing the sensation into her skin. Her insides clenched. It had hurt, but not that much, and despite how satisfied she was already feeling, she felt her arousal prickling again from the bite of pain.

“Do not worry, little swan. Since it is our wedding day, this will only be a small punishment for disobedience… and in the future, you will remember to obey my commands.” His voice was lower than normal, firmer, more in control, and he punctuated his statement with another swat to the other side of her bottom, so the stinging sensation matched in both cheeks.

Heat flushed through her at his words, which had as much of an effect on her as his hands. Before today, she would have described Gregory as charming, confident but free-wheeling, laissez faire even. The words strict or dominating would not have come to mind. Not until now.

Now, she was seeing an entirely different, unexpected side of her husband.

And, heaven help her, every part of her body thrilled in response.