Page 68 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

She nodded, although she did not know exactlywhatshe was trusting him with. She only knew that everything he had done thus far had felt extremely wonderful. She just had not expected him to actually want to taste herdown there.

Those thoughts were lost upon her, however, as his tongue began to gently stroke her intimately. The resistance she once felt melted away as she felt the familiar pleasure building within her center.

She knew this feeling, had experienced it that night beneath the trapdoor. But it had never been as intense as it was now, with his fingers and tongue exacting an almost torturous rapture on her.

Her hips bucked upward of their own volition as she felt his tongue dart from her entrance to that little nub where the sensation was most intense. Still, Charles did not pause or even slow down to catch his breath. It was almost as if he truly was as he had told her—a man starved and she was the feast he wished to devour.

"Charles…!” she sobbed. “Charles, please…”

Shefelthis wolfish chuckle vibrating upon her wet flesh and thought she would go mad as the sensation only built up even more within her. Her hips thrust into his waiting mouth and still, he did not cease in his onslaught. Instead, it only seemed to drive him further, his tongue lashing even more ferociously upon her.

When he finally drew the pearl between her legs into his mouth, she felt herself burst with a scream. A cry of triumph.

It felt as if her body had exploded into a million stars, each fragment lighting up the sky and chasing away the night. Wavesof pleasure crashed upon her, one after another, until she no longer had the strength to resist it.

She felt his arms gather her limp body to his chest. Felt him press a tender kiss to her sweaty forehead. Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze slightly hazy until she focused on him.

“You were wonderful,” he murmured, kissing her lips lightly.

Phoebe could only nod weakly. It seemed as if all her strength had left her body.

“Rest now,” he told her as he held her close. “I am right here with you.”

“But what about you?” she murmured.

He let out a sound that was part laughter and part groan. “I am well enough, sweet Phoebe. Do not worry about me.”

She pouted a little. “I always…worry about you…”

“That is my job,” he replied, kissing her forehead again. “Now, go to sleep.”

She did not have the strength to resist him or the strangely gentle lull of his voice. Her eyes fluttered close as she nestled deeper into his arms, feeling wonderfully spent. But even asshe slipped into slumber, she could not help but wonder how Charles managed to remain far more composed than she was.

Was he holding back from her, perhaps?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Phoebe shifted in her sleep with a soft moan in discomfort. Her bedchamber in Wentworth Park was mostly stifling hot, perhaps due to the fact that Charles utterly forbade her from leaving the windows open in the night, claiming that it invited all sorts of illnesses if one was to catch a sudden chill.

While this might be appropriate in the autumn and winter months, it was just plain uncomfortable in the spring to summer months.

She irritably flipped the downy comforter off of her sweaty body, when she felt a sudden draft sweep into the room. She frowned and opened her eyes, adjusting to the darkness of the room. When she saw the curtains rustling silently, she sat up in surprise.

Why are they open? Did someone come in and—

“Phoebe.”

The soft, deep voice enticed a shriek of surprise from her lips. She turned around quickly and found Charles standing before her, his eyes cold.

“Ch-charles? What are you doing here at this hour?” she squeaked.

She supposed she should be happy her husband came to her rooms in the middle of the night. However, the look in his eyes told her that he had not come to see her to consummate their marriage, or even make an effort towards it.

“It was quite warm, so I opened the windows,” he explained, glancing towards the fluttering curtains with an indescribable emotion glinting in his eyes.

“It was one of your rules,” she reminded him gently. “You already gave in when I wanted to open the curtains. I was not about to sail too close to the wind and demand that I open the windows while I was sleeping.”

The corner of his lips curled up into a rueful smile. “I half expected you to do so, anyway.”