Page 67 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

Not unless they wanted to risk his wrath, of course. He had already warned the servants to steer clear of their picnic spot and once O’Malley and Huxley had secured the area, they knew better than to wander in uninvited themselves.

He kissed her again, and this time, she surrendered sweetly without hesitation. He plucked at the buttons at her back and pulled the front of her bodice, exposing the soft swells of her breasts to his hungry gaze. He ran his hand over her chest, feeling the puckering of her rosy nipples through the thin chemise she wore.

“Charles!” she cried out softly, arching into his touch. Her voice only served to make him harder for her.

He brushed his lips against hers, gently this time, taking his time with her as his hand squeezed her lush breasts, running his thumb lazily over its turgid peak. Phoebe writhed beneath him, her hands digging into his shoulders as he teased the soft mounds. He pulled the chemise over her breasts, exposing her bare skin as he trailed his lips down her jaw to the side of her neck.

“Oh my…” she breathed. “Oh…”

He smiled at her reaction as he went further down to her breasts. When his lips clamped on a rosy nipple, she shrieked in pleasure, her fingers spearing into his hair as she instinctively clutched him close to her chest.

“Charles—oh my, Charles!”

He lavished her breast with his utmost attention, licking the nipple and drawing it into his mouth as her shallow breaths turned into gasps and melted into moans. She was so responsive to him that it was driving him mad with desire.

As she rocked into him, his hand wandered past her abdomen, tracing the flare of her hips, before heaving her skirts to bunch up at her waist. When his deft hands found her wet core unerringly, he nearly lost all control.

“How can you be so wet for me already?” he rasped upon her breast in wonder. He slipped his finger inside her slippery folds and Phoebe let out a moan of pure lust. Never had he met a woman who was so responsive to his touch. It was almost as if she was crafted perfectly for him.

He turned his mouth to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention he gave its twin, while his finger continued to caress her wet center. He drew circles on her slick flesh as he sucked at her breast, feeling himself growing harder than what he had thought possible.

There was nothing Charles wanted more at that moment than to sink himself into her. To know the pleasure of her warmth clutching him, squeezing every last drop of him. He wanted to plunge into her uncharted depths and take her, make her truly his.

But before that, there was something else he wanted to do.

He glanced up and found his dear wife writhing in the throes of passion. He had never before seen such a sensual sight—her head thrown back, her lips slightly agape as his name spilled from them like a prayer.

Smiling against her skin, he dove down her body, trailing hot kisses in his wake.

“Charles?” Phoebe looked at him in confusion as he hovered between her legs. “What…are you…?”

Ever since that night at the trapdoor, he had lain awake wondering how she would taste on his tongue. Charles decided that he had had enough of wondering today.

“I told you I was starving, Phoebe,” he told her somberly. “Let me show you what I truly mean…”

Phoebe had very little knowledge in the realm of carnal pleasure. What little she knew, she had learned from her encounters with Charles, and when she looked at him, she knew he was about to teach her something wonderful again.

Something more wonderful than his touch?

She doubted it, really.

She gritted her teeth, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt his fingertip pressing uponsomethingbetween her legs that caused her to shudder in sheer pleasure.

“Trust me, sweet Phoebe. I will take care of you.”

Oh, she had no doubt of that. However, a little warning would have been helpful. She felt that it was rather difficult trying to understand the things he was doing to her body.

Or perhaps she was not meant to understand it? Perhaps, she was simply meant to enjoy…

But she had never heard of the ladies ever referring to their marital duties as something remotely enjoyable—only that it was a means to have their husbands buy them a new hat, or dress, or extravagant necklace if they allowed it.

She felt him gently nudge her legs open as he positioned himself in between them. She was roiling in a stormy sea, cast this way and that by his touch, distinctly unaware of anything else but the pleasure he wrought upon her.

When she felt the first rasp of his tongue upon her innermost flesh, Phoebe sat up with a cry of alarm.

“Charles!” she squealed, only for his other hand to press her hips back down.

“Easy, my sweet wife. Trust me.”