Page 37 of His Enemy Duchess

“I hate this color,” he growled, his hands ripping the rest of her dress to the hem. “It dulls you, dims you, and I would see my wife shine. So radiant that no one can take their eyes off her, including me.”

“But… I was told it was… the fashion in Paris,” Sophia gasped, stirred into a frenzy by the feel of her petticoats being pushed up to her hips.

He halted, his eyes narrowed in a half scowl. “There is only one thing I tolerate about the French…”

He bit his lip as his hand slipped between her legs, caressing the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, edging towards the part of her that had made her see stars before.

“And what is that?” she panted, grateful that she rarely bothered with drawers.

His fingertips glided through her folds, slick with desire, as he kissed her neck and whispered, “Their pursuit of pleasure.”

CHAPTER 13

Thomas had not had the wild youth that his brother had been granted, but his fatherhadthought it important for him to know the bedchamber secrets. While other young men had been taken to brothels or had been set loose on the Continent for a grand tour, Thomas had read, most diligently, allowing his imagination to fill in the blanks of what wasn’t written in detail.

And there was one thing he had always wanted to try. One thing he had thought of doing since that night in the library. One thing that Sophia, half-naked and panting in front of him,madehim want to try.

I should send you away. I should tell you to wear whatever you like or whatever you are told, but… you have intoxicated me, Sophia.

He sank down to his knees, sliding her legs over his shoulders, savoring the thought of what was to come. He had barely eaten at dinner, and now he was ravenous for a delicacy that wouldundoubtedly leave him hungry for more. A risk he was willing to take, for nothing but her say-so would stop him from tasting her.

At the first brush of his tongue, her body froze as if in shock.

He paused, and when she made no move to kick him or hop off the desk, he tasted her again—a forbidden feast that would undoubtedly doom him and damn him, and he could not have cared less. The only thing that existed at that moment was her pleasure, and making her buckle and tremble and submit to his touch. It was a far sweeter authority than any he had known.

She relaxed, dropping her elbows to the desk and leaning back as he rolled his tongue over that swollen bud. Soon enough, he was graced with the sounds he had longed for, her breaths coming in ragged sighs, her legs shaking on his shoulders.

Are these the only moments where we won’t hate each other?

He shoved the thought aside, emboldened by her pleasure. Sliding his fingertips through the warm, wet heat of her, he paused at her entrance, waiting for a tortuous few seconds.

Her hips tilted ever so slightly, and as he curled his tongue around her bud and sucked gently, he eased his fingertip inside her.

“Yes, Thomas!” she gasped, bucking against his tongue. “Oh, yes!”

He slid another finger inside her, letting her grow accustomed to the sensation while his mind ran rampant, imagining what it would feel like to claim her. It had been almost a week since they should have had their wedding night—perhaps the delay would make it all the more satisfying.

Slowly moving his fingers in teasing thrusts, he savored her to his heart’s content, relishing the music of her bliss-struck breaths and moans, listening for the notes of what she liked best. From that, a rhythm appeared, his tongue and fingers working in harmony, driving her towards a rousing conclusion.

She was close; he could feel it.

Sophia couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t think at all, not beyond anything that was taking place in that study, with him. If she had known that this would be the reward for her sacrifice, she would have done it much sooner.

“Yes, Thomas,” she gasped, overwhelmed with sensation. Too much and not enough—a strange dichotomy.

“Husband,” he paused to correct, leaving her on the precipice of untold ecstasy.

The absence of his tongue, teasing that bundle of nerves into a frenzy, was the most tortuous trick. She would have saidanything to feel it again, paired with the slow, expert thrusts of his fingers.

“Yes, husband,” she urged. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

As his tongue tasted her again, it was as if all of that anticipation had built up in the pause, with nowhere to go, growing more potent. The first stroke was pure electricity that seized the reins of her entire being, her back arching off the mahogany desk, her thighs trembling uncontrollably on his shoulders.

It did not take long for that rising, swelling feeling inside her to reach its peak, and though she now knew what to expect, she still wasn’t prepared. It was different from before. The prelude was already more dramatic, more intense, which could only mean one thing…

“Oh… Oh God… Oh!” Her voice caught in her throat. “Yes, husband! Yes!”

Her eyes closed as pure pleasure, raw and otherworldly, surged through her every nerve, every vein, every limb, every part of her. Her arms shook as they held her up, her lungs struggling for breath, her head swimming as if she were in the middle of her wildest dreams, conjured by falling asleep with a saucy book in hand.

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