Page 51 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

Phoebe had never been touched so boldly, so scandalously in her entire life. She had wondered all throughout what it entailed for a man to take liberties with a woman—her Mama had been woefully inadequate in her education in that department—but she found that she was enjoying having Charles as her tutor.

And she would prove herself an apt student, no doubt. Phoebe had always felt that whatever she lacked for in experience, she could make up for with a burning desire to learn.

And burn, she did.

Shyly, she allowed her hand to explore the terrain of muscles that corded at his neck and shoulder. She laid her hand upon his chest and was pleased to feel his heart thudding wildly beneath her palm—clear evidence that he was just as affected in his fierce domination of her.

She lightly traced the outline of his flat male nipple, awed once more by the vast differences in their bodies. He let out a low growl, his fingers squeezing her soft flesh in reflex.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked him, her eyes wide in concern.

He laughed harshly. “On the contrary, my dear, I find that you please me so, so much…”

Whatever reply Phoebe thought she would be capable of mustering in the face of such praise was swallowed up when his lips returned to hers.

However, this time, his kiss slowed to a silken caress. A sensual seduction. A slow unraveling of her mind and inhibitions.

How was it possible that he could evoke the same response merely by shifting his method of attack? Phoebe could not answer that—all she knew was that she was adrift in a sea of sensation, her body aching for more of his touch.

And that dull, delicious throbbing between her legs… it was the most gloriously scandalous thing she had ever felt in her entire life!

Her eyes still closed, she felt Charles reach down and lift one of her legs to drape it over his hip. That one movement drew a breathless gasp from her, and she ached all the more.

Oh, how she ached in that deliciously tantalizing way that she could not explain!

“Charles,” she pleaded against his lips. For what exactly, she did not know.

But he seemed to understand, for his smile was knowing as he gazed down at her. His brilliant eyes seemed to know just what she wanted. What sheneededfrom him.

“Keep your leg raised for me, sweetheart,” he instructed her.

Phoebe nodded. “Yes, but I do not understand—”

She sucked in her breath when his hands bunched at her hip and began to slowly draw her clothes—robe and shift and all—up. She felt the cool draft hitting her calves…and then higher still to her knees and right up to her thighs.

She had never felt so exposed. So vulnerable.

She shut her eyes and started to turn away from Charles, but he only laughed hoarsely.

“Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart,” he urged her softly. “I will be damned if I do not see your eyes as I pleasure you for the first time.”

She frowned at him. Pleasure her?

But I suppose that undressing is part of it, she thought to herself.

She had heard of scandalous trysts and in many of them, couples were found in various stages of undress. Back then, she had never understoodwhy.

Now, she had some idea of it.

Perhaps Charles meant to undress her, too. As to how he was going to pleasure her, she was still at a loss—but dear Lord, she wanted him to.

Sheneededhim to. Desperately.

“Have you ever touched yourself, sweetheart?” he asked her as his fingers trailed higher along her thigh, sending tendrils of sensation skittering from the base of her spine to fuel the aching throb between her legs. All of this while his hand encompassed her other breast, his thumb gently caressing her nipple.

“No,” she admitted, biting down on her lower lip. “I cannot say I have.”

He looked pleasantly surprised at her confession and his smile seemed to soften for a fraction of a moment before his eyes glinted devilishly in the lamplight.