Page 52 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

“You will need to hold on to me,” he warned her. “It can be a bit unsettling at first.”

Phoebe laughed nervously. “Is it the same for men and women?”

It was a question borne out of genuine curiosity. She was not so obtuse as to not notice the vast differences in his body and hers.

“I cannot say,” he replied to her with blunt honesty. “But I have been told it can be overwhelming for one untried.”

Untried—that word sparked something within her. It reminded her that while this may be her first time, she could hardly expect this to be his. It would simply be unrealistic.

The education of a gentleman on such matters was quite different from that of a lady.

It is a good thing that at least one of us knows what they are doing, she thought pragmatically.

It would have been wonderful if her Mama had been more forthcoming in that area, but unfortunately, Phoebe—like all well-born young ladies—found her education in that area extremely lacking…

But Charles was proving to be an exceptionally good tutor and Phoebe was determined to learn everything that he was willing to teach her.

And more.

Charles was holding on to his restraint by a mere thread.

Phoebe was proving to be more passionate and responsive than he had ever imagined, even if she was an innocent in the act of consummation. Her little moans and mewls fueled him, leading him almost to the brink.

And she had not even touched him yet.

Not in the manner he had been fantasizing about, no—but the feel of her warm, supple body pressed against him was absolutely maddening. It was only his sole thought of making their first intimate act as pleasurable as possible for her that kept him from tearing at her clothes like an uncivilized beast.

He kept his eyes on her, watching her face for the slightest change in her expression as he slowly drew her shift up her bare leg. Her eyes were wide as they looked up at him trustingly, her kiss-swollen lips parted slightly as her breath came out in soft pants.

She made no move to stop him, only looked at him with bated breath, her eyes wide with curiosity and dark with a desire that mirrored his own.

Slowly, he inched his fingers over the smooth skin of her legs, trailing over the generous curve of her hip, before finally reaching the downy thatch of curls between her legs.

“I am going to touch you,” he told her in a hoarse voice. “If it gets unpleasant for you… let me know.”

She nodded and he could feel her shiver slightly in his arms. This particular room had always been a bit drafty and her clothes were as thin as a spider’s web. Still, her skin radiated a warmth that burned through him.

He slipped his fingers into the folds of her center and nearly groaned when he found her wet. Phoebe let out a sharp gasp, her fingers curling reflexively into the bunched muscles of his shoulders.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked her warily.

She shook her head and let out a shaky laugh. “Dear God,no. I…oh, please—do it again…”

He smiled as he moved his finger in a smooth stroke that ended with a slight swirl around that little bundle of nerves, reveling in the soft moan that escaped her lips.

“Good God!” she breathed.

Charles could only laugh hoarsely in reply. The sight of her beginning to unravel in his arms, pressed against the wall, was something he wanted engraved into his memory.

She was desire personified. An innocent temptress learning of pleasure for the first time—he never thought that he would find it so seductive.

Now, he doubted that there was anything in this world more tantalizing.

Urged by her favorable response to his initial ministrations, he began to move his hand against her in earnest. He stroked her intimately, slipping into her slick petals and caressing the bud ofpleasure in her center. His control slowly slipped from his grasp as he felt her grow wetter, heard her moans growing louder.

It is fortunate that no one should be out in the estate at this hour, Charles thought to himself wickedly, as he devoted his efforts solely to Phoebe and her burgeoning release. His sweet wife was rather vocal in her appreciation of his skills in the art of pleasure, and he himself found great pleasure in her soft cries.

“Do you like it, sweetheart?” he whispered into her ear. “Do you like the way I touch you?”