Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

When the Duke of Hardbridge kissed her, Celia was not quite prepared for it. Her hands were still pulling at the straps of her nightgown, though she immediately stopped, reaching for him instead.

The way he kissed her had the most magical effect, as if no other woman mattered to him in the world at that moment other than her. He parted her lips as if he had done it so many times before, then reached out to angle their tongues together.

She gasped into his mouth at his sheer dominance. She scrambled to get closer to him, moving to her knees as he too knelt on the bed. Her fingers even curled around the tie at his throat, pulling him down toward her.

Then abruptly, he stopped kissing her. He pulled back, though Celia could see from his half-lidded eyes that this was not about to end.

“I thought ye were taking that off,” he said darkly, his voice so deep that she practically cooed at the sound of it.

He reached for her, and together they pulled her nightgown over her head. She supposed she should have been embarrassed to be so naked before him now, but she wasn’t. Far from it. Rather, she was emboldened by the way he took in the sight of her.

His grey eyes lingered in particular on the swell of her breasts before drifting somewhere much lower. She even wriggled when he stared at her belly for too long. Her movement made him jerk forward.

Celia was flattened to the bed as he braced himself above her, kissing her again, his lips molding to her own. She was not really aware of her leg wrapping around his hip, but it was suddenly there. One of his hands clutched her thigh, encasing it, his large fingers making it feel small as he opened her up, allowing room for him to press his hips against her own.

She gasped into the kiss when she felt something hard press against her center. It took no great leap of the imagination to guess what that was, and the idea that he was hard because of her thrilled her.

He kissed down her neck, and a breathy moan escaped her lips as she arched up into him. Then he trailed his lips down the valley between her breasts and up to her nipple before he took it into his mouth.

When he nipped her, the bite elicited fresh pleasure. The gasp that escaped her was louder.

“This is audacious, even for you,” she gasped. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He moved his lips to her other breast, giving it just as much attention. When his fingers came up to the first nipple, toying with it, she gripped the bed covers beneath her.

She’d heard the painter talk of such pleasures, but he hadn’t prepared her for the wetness that now pooled between her legs. He also hadn’t told her about the throbbing in her most private part as she longed for the Duke of Hardbridge’s touch.

“It’s… scandalous,” she whispered, her fingers toying with the bed covers as the Duke took more of her breast into his mouth, laving it with his tongue.

Slowly, he released her breast, his eyes meeting hers as he raised his eyebrows.

“Do ye want me to stop?”

No.

Rather than saying the words, her hands moved to his shoulders.

It was the only sign he needed. He grabbed her hands and pulled them off his body, then pinned them together in just one hand and held them above her head.

Celia supposed she should have been angry he was dominating her in such an obvious way, but she wasn’t. She was thrilled by it, just wanting him to keep taking control. His other hand went back to her thigh, and he raised it high so it was around his clothed hip again.

Not a single part of her was hidden from him. Completely naked, her legs open wide, he could see all of her.

“Do as I say,” he urged in a heated whisper.

“Would I ever?” she teased him.

Something flashed in his eyes, though it wasn’t anger. He smirked, a true pleasure lighting up his features.

“Oh, ye will this time.” He bent toward her. “Keep those hands there… Or I’ll have to tie them.”

She was rather tempted to move her hands, just so he would tie them.

Then it all happened so fast. He released her wrists and moved down her body, his lips moving to her most private part. Stunned, her legs quivered as she felt his lips on her sex.

She gasped just as his tongue trailed a path from her opening to a tender bundle of nerves. He repeated the movement, and her whole body quaked from the pleasure.

She’d heard of such things. When the painter had mentioned them, her friend, Miriam, had giggled with delight, saying there was nothing better a man could do with his tongue.

The Duke of Hardbridge’s hands cupped her thighs, keeping them raised around his head as he set up a rhythm, his tongue moving faster and faster as he explored her. The pleasure was so unbridled that Celia struggled to keep her hands where they were. In the end, she gripped the headboard, doing her best to stay as flat as she could, though her body acted of its own accord and her back off the bed.

When her hands fell to the bed covers eventually, he sat up, raising his eyebrows in a silent challenge.

“What will you do now?” she asked, struggling to catch her breath.

He took hold of her hips so fast that she barely had time to moan before he flipped her over. Any dizziness she might have been suffering from before, she didn’t think about now. Her body was too consumed by the heat and pleasure the Duke was stirring within her.

As she landed on her front, he pulled off the tie he was wearing and wrapped it around one of her wrists. He didn’t fasten it too tightly, but it was enough to tie her other wrist to the headboard.

“In your control?” she whispered tauntingly.

“Mine, now,” he said possessively in her ear, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her neck.

When he nipped her, she gasped again, wishing he would do it some more. But he didn’t. He was moving somewhere, and on her front, she didn’t know where it was that he was going.

Then he took hold of her hips, urging her up until she was on her knees, her other hand gripping the headboard for support.

“I want to hear ye,” he whispered behind her, his fingers trailing down the curve of her back and to her rear.

“We’ll be caught. Do you want that?” she challenged.

“Then moan just enough for me to hear ye,” he said gruffly.

His commanding tone should have been off-putting to her, but she was too entranced by the way his fingers were now splaying across her rear.

He moved one hand down, his fingers brushing against that sensitive area his tongue had just worshipped. She gasped at the feel of his fingers, long and hard, and then he turned his hand, sliding his fingers inside her.

“Oh,” she gasped at the sensation, finding it quite impossible to stay silent.

The painter was not wrong when he described such pleasure as the most intense feeling, but it was somehow even more overwhelming. As the Duke moved his fingers, teasing her with the slowness of the movement, that ache was replaced with a need to move faster and harder. She even rocked her hips against his hand, hearing him growl in satisfaction.

The painter never said that I would become almost animal!

She did it again, rocking her hips against the Duke’s hand. He growled again, his voice even deeper this time as his fingers started to move faster. Suddenly, he was hitting a spot that had been longing for his touch, though she had barely been aware of it.

She arched her back, throwing her head back as the pleasure started to reach through her body, no longer so restricted to that one part of her.

“What do ye want?” he asked gruffly, his other hand going to the swell of her rear. He gripped it, and when she didn’t answer, he spanked her lightly.

She was amazed he had done it—perhaps even more shocked that it hadn’t hurt. He’d spanked her lightly, just enough to elicit pleasure but not enough to cause pain.

“What do ye want, sweetheart?”

At that moment, she loved the name he gave her, though she had a feeling she would have accepted him calling her anything if he kept on doing this.

“More,” she whispered.

“Hmm?” He pretended not to hear her, his fingers slowing.

“No. Don’t stop!” she begged. Yet, his fingers came to a stop. “Ah! You are the most insufferable man,” she huffed.

He chuckled softly, his other hand moving to the curve of her waist and holding on tight. He used that grip to rock her back on his hand again.

“I think ye rather like me, really.”

“You’re wrong,” she argued, though she barely finished the words, for the pleasure was starting again.

He had shifted his fingers so they were just in front of his hips. It allowed her to imagine the way this might feel if she was experiencing all of him.

“Ye can’t stand me, eh?” he provoked her, pumping his fingers into her just as she had longed for him to do. “Ye want me far away from ye?”

“Oh.” She couldn’t quite say those words.

“I thought not.” His other hand moved to her rear again, gripping her hard as he moved his fingers. “No. Ye want me right here, sweetheart.”

Then he took hold of her hip and pulled out his fingers, turning her over so she was flat on her back again. As he untied her wrist from the headboard, she flung her arm outward. It knocked the chessboard over, though neither one of them cared enough to stop and look.

Celia was not sure she could look at anything but him as he grabbed her thighs and dragged her down the bed, so she was beneath him. He kissed her, molding his clothed body to her bare one. Her hands moved down, clutching his broad shoulders, exploring his muscles, just as his fingers reached between her legs again.

He swiftly reached that point of pure pleasure, driving her to such madness that every sound she made was swallowed by his kiss. Her legs quivered as he suddenly broke the kiss and braced himself above her.

She realized he was watching her. He wasn’t just watching what they were doing, the way his fingers were sliding in and out of her, but he was also watching her face.

She had never been shy. She looked him in the eye, perfectly happy for him to see her moan, to see the way her mouth would fall open as he found a new sensitive spot inside her.

Then he curled his fingers. It was such a shock, this new position, that her body tightened.

“Don’t forget that release.” That was how Miriam had described it when Celia had asked her and the painter about sex. She had called it a release. “It’s your undoing. Never have you felt so free and… elated in all your life.”

Celia now realized how right Miriam had been. Her whole body contracted as the Duke rubbed that perfect spot inside her. The pleasure washed over her, and she arched off the bed again, clutching his biceps as he rocked her body into oblivion.

He was still moving his fingers as she started to come back down from her high, completely overwhelmed by the way he had made her body sing to his tune. Then he stilled.

His fingers slid out of her as she panted. Then she leaned forward and rested her head on the center of his chest.

“Aye, I can see how much ye cannot stand me,” he whispered in her ear playfully.

She couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her as her hands moved.

She had already crossed nearly every boundary known to the ton. Surely, there was no harm in crossing the final one?

I want to know him… completely.

The idea of the Duke of Hardbridge making love to her there in that bed was such a thrill that her hands acted of their own accord. She reached for his waistcoat and started unbuttoning it.

“Ah, no, lass.” He placed his hand over hers, halting her.

“What?” she stammered in amazement.

She was here, completely naked, having given every part of herself to him. Did he not want more? Did he not want some of that pleasure for himself?

Something flickered in his eyes. For a second, she thought she saw something other than pleasure. Was it… fear? Then it was gone, and she rather thought it had all been in her imagination.

“Ye are still bedridden,” he said with a smile. “I may have just given ye pleasure, but I will not take it from ye as ye are now. I want ye fit for that.” He bent down and kissed the top of her hip. “Believe me, I want ye to throw yerself into it.”

She smiled, laughing as he reared up and kissed her on the lips again.

“I should go.” He kneeled up on the bed.

“Now?”

“Well, do ye want yer lady’s maid to discover ye had a gentleman visitor when ye are wearing nothing?” In emphasis, he reached for her center again. She swatted his hand away, and he laughed. “Then we’ll have to wait for another time, sweetheart.”

“Another time.”

As she watched the Duke climb off the bed, a question arose in her mind. She had loved every second of what they had just done, but she rather thought he had pulled back for a different reason.

What is he hiding?