Page 20 of The Virgin Duchess (Unwanted Brides #2)

Chapter Seventeen

T he world flared with searing color around her, and Charlotte was breathless. Her mind was a tumble of feverish thoughts. What was she supposed to say? Did…did she want that? Lord, it was nearly impossible to even comprehend what he was saying. Still, her body hummed, and the way Frederick paid keen attention to her was blissfully all-consuming.

She looked up into his eyes. “…Y-Yes.”

Frederick’s lips found hers once more, his tongue seeking entrance to her mouth as he swept it across the seam of her lips. Charlotte eagerly let him inside, desperate for more contact in a way she couldn’t understand. They explored each other in a maddening dance, Frederick’s hands wrapping around her sides as he pulled her close.

They were entangled in each other so profoundly when her husband began to walk her backward. Charlotte’s legs hit the bed, and their progression halted. Frederick put his all into the kiss, deepening it until she was utterly breathless. Then, and only then, did he pull back from her, sliding around to the back of her.

She was about to turn when Frederick stopped her. “Keep facing forward, sweet Charlotte, and lay back against me on the bed.”

Confusion and intrigue warred in her mind. She ducked her head, staring down at herself as Frederick gripped her waist and helped her to sit down on the bed in front of him. His legs split, and she could feel hardness press against her lower back and hips.

Oh, God…he is…

Frederick leaned her back against his chest, and there she could feel the furious pound of his heart, the way he took large sips of air. His arms wrapped around her front, going for the fabric that clung to her shoulders. Pushing it down, Frederick revealed more of her flesh.

“God’s mercy, Charlotte,” Frederick ground out, “just the sight of you…”

Her skin flushed, heat swelling so much inside her that it was sure to ignite the clothing they both still wore. As it was, Frederick pressed the layers that covered her shoulders further down until the cap sleeves of her gown were shoved to the center of her arm along with the steps of the stays beneath it.

The thought of how much more difficult this would have been for Frederick had she been wearing a day dress flitted across Charlotte’s mind. So much of her chest was already exposed due to the low neckline of the gown, and without much effort at all, Frederick stripped away the fabric that covered her breast, revealing her to the air—and his hungry stare.

She couldn’t see his face now, however. Did he still wonder at what he saw? Was there a flare of disappointment?

“Ugh,” he groaned, taking handfuls of her breasts and running his thumbs across her peaked nipples.

“Frederick,” Charlotte gasped, the sensation utterly bewildering.

The swirling, devious delight and scandalous impropriety of being groped like this made Charlotte feel as if she were drunk. She was still fully clothed, the fabric only shoved out of Frederick’s way so that he might touch her. It was outlandish and shocking and… incredible.

Her breasts rested perched on the bunched fabric, and then Frederick dropped a hand to her thigh, using his fingers to gather the fabric of her long skirt, exposing inch after inch of her legs. Frederick’s touch continued to roam over her body, gripping and grasping at her breasts, her waist, her throat. Each slight maneuver of his was this primal act of seizing her body for his own.

And God, how Charlotte adored it.

The fabric of her skirts reached her hips, and in a painfully slow dance of fingers against flesh, Frederick walked his touch to her core. Slick anticipation clung to her skin, and there was the slightest brush of his fingertip against her seam. Charlotte’s hips bucked, and Frederick squeezed her tighter against him, not allowing her to go anywhere.

“My sweet, sweet Charlotte.” Frederick reached further over her hip from behind her, ghosting his touch over her slit from bottom to top. “I have craved this, hungered for it like a starved man.”

She whimpered against his touch, his words. Frederick flicked against the very tip of her core, and lightning rushed through her nerves. Charlotte twitched, her muscles clamping down as the sensation lit her up. It was indescribable, this magic of movement and touch. She wanted to cry from the sheer intensity of it all.

Still, what Charlotte wanted most of all was more, more of everything Frederick was doing to her, more of that lightning beneath her skin.

“Frederick, please, I…oh God…”

He chuckled behind her, slipping his digit between her folds where the arousal pooled. “It is a veritable delight to hear you pleading for me, Charlotte. I shall never get enough of it.”

The bud at the tip of her seam tingled, and Charlotte was consumed by heat. Her cheeks burned, and there was no denying the things she said or felt. Mortification threatened to pull her into the great beyond, but every flick of Frederick’s fingers brought her right back to earth.

He teased around her entrance, tickling touches landing on her skin instead of the firm touch her body demanded. She rocked her hips against Frederick’s hand, rubbing herself up and down across his fingers. That dreadfully gorgeous chuckle of his bloomed behind her once more, and Charlotte bit her lip to keep from screaming.

“Do you want more, darling? Do you want to feel me inside you?”

Charlotte reared back against him as Frederick pressed firmly against her bud. The pressure was intense, making her legs shake, but yes, she was desperate to feel him within her, filling her with his fingers that played her body so beautifully—an instrument at his beck and call.

“Yes, please .”

It was a beg, and part of Charlotte hated herself for that. The rest of her didn’t care in the slightest, hungry enough for the sensations that it was willing to do anything to get them, whatever Frederick demanded of her.

“God,” he whispered in her ear, “I love to hear you plead for me.”

And then Frederick sheathed his fingers inside her. Charlotte gasped, and it bled into a moan as the incredible feeling of fullness settled into her. Frederick’s thumb continued to brush against her tip as he moved in and out of her in a pointed rhythm. It was slow and deep, but it wasn’t enough. Charlotte needed him quicker. On instinct, she rocked her hips, sliding herself against his touch. The slippery arousal streamed from her, and that wildfire in her blood soared higher into the sky.

“That’s it, dearest. Fall apart for me.”

“Frederick,” Charlotte wined, “ please . I need more…faster.”

He adjusted behind her, crawling around to the front of Charlotte without stopping the magnificent work of his fingers. She looked up into Frederick’s gaze, her eyelids heavy with lust and need. Her husband smirked, his eyes traveling down the length of her body until they stopped right where he touched her.

“Well,” he smiled, devious and handsome, “when you ask so nicely.”

A flare of playful annoyance bit through her, making the sensations between her legs kick up another notch. Frederick knelt between her legs on the bed, his position inside her flipped around. In so doing, he was able to hook his fingers up into a place inside Charlotte that made her see stars. More fiercely, Frederick rubbed into it, still pumping in and out of her.

“Ugh!”

It was nearly too much, but Charlotte could feel the sensations building on each other, accumulating layer after layer until her nerves ached with the need for some unknown thing.

“That’s my sweet girl.” Frederick groped her breast, pressing his lips to it and sucking her nipple into his mouth before letting it go with a resounding pop. “The way you squeeze around, Charlotte.”

She couldn’t think of words to respond, her mind too gone. And then Frederick was suckling at her nipple once more, swirling his tongue around it as his efforts between her legs raced her further toward the edge of some invisible cliff.

Her thighs trembled, the walls that squeezed Frederick’s fingers gripping tighter and tighter with each moment. It was a blissful terror to be so undone for him. There was no controlling her body or words. The feelings roaring through her blood were too strong. Charlotte was mindless to the pleasure, and embarrassment and euphoria mingled together to create a cocktail more potent than any she’d ever known.

“You’re so close, sweet darling. Aren’t you? So very close to tumbling over the edge for me.”

She had no idea what Frederick was talking about, at least not from a place of experience. But Charlotte was aching for some type of release from the building pressure and need within her. It had to be what he meant, so she nodded, a desperate squeak escaping her as Frederick sunk his fingers as deeply as he could.

“Yes! Oh, God, Frederick!”

His lips found her breast again before trailing up to her neck and biting playfully. The pinch in her skin zinged down to her core, making her clamp around his digits. Frederick gripped her neck with his free hand, his thumb coming around to the front of her face and pulling down the flesh of her bottom lip.

“Let me see you.” He growled the words—dark and ravenous. “Let me see your eyes as you break apart for me, sweet Charlotte.”

She forced herself to open her eyes as much as she could. It was a fight to keep them open, but she held Frederick’s stare as he pulled pleasure from her body. Their stares locked onto each other, and he palmed her neck.

At once, Frederick set up a brutal pace, thrusting into her with a silent demand of everything her body could give him. And Charlotte was helpless against the magnificent force of his claiming touch. She shattered apart beneath him, his fingers drawing out every beat of pleasure as she fluttered around them.

“Ugh!” She cried out, her body seizing and jerking against the overwhelming sensations. “Frederick!”

“That’s it, darling. So beautiful.”

Charlotte rode out the sensations until she was a puddle of herself, her body limp and her eyes slipping closed. She was a profound level of exhausted, and sparking beats of pleasure licked through her at random intervals until they backed off completely.

The room was quiet as she tried to catch her breath, and after a time, Frederick slipped his fingers free of her, making Charlotte whimper and wince. She was so overwhelmed by it all that she couldn’t speak, could barely stay away. Frederick kissed her forehead, helping her to shift up onto the pillow and lay back.

“Get your rest, sweet Charlotte. I will see you in the morning.”

She felt him begin to leave. “Wait.”

Charlotte’s voice was breathy, a ghost of its usual self. Frederick turned back to her from standing near the bed, his gaze a mixture of arousal and pain.

“We have not…there is still so much to?—”

“Not just now, Charlotte. Tomorrow. For now, get your sleep. There will be talking later.”

With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Frederick pressed another kiss to her head and then turned away, leaving her room quietly and purposefully. He had not answered any other questions, and Frederick was now leaving her here alone to grapple with what they’d both done.

That was it.

Tears prickled in Charlotte’s eyes as she sat in the silence. She had allowed Frederick to…While she could find some semblance of peace in the fact that they had not had sex, Charlotte was still mortified. Had she allowed herself to be swooned? Had Frederick worked his rakish magic on her to merely avoid an interrogation?

Charlotte flung herself face down into the bed and sobbed.