Page 44 of His Scottish Duchess

“That was… most enjoyable, Duchess. Thank you,” he murmured. “Now, it is my turn.”

Catherine’s eyes widened. “Your turn?”

He nodded, his gaze intent. “Yes. I believe you deserve a massage as well.”

She hesitated, but the look in his eyes, the unspoken promise of more than him rubbing scented oil over her skin, made her agree. She sat on the edge of the bed, turning her back to him.

His hands were warm and strong when they rested on her shoulders, his touch sending shivers down her spine. He began to knead the muscles of her back, his fingers working with a skill that surprised her. He brought his hands together at her neck, pressing his thumbs into the back in a way that caused her to arch forward, straightening her spine.

She had to bite her lip to keep from moaning, shocked by his skill. If Sampson noticed, he said nothing, simply massaging the tension from her neck.

But then his touch shifted, lingering longer on certain spots, growing more intimate.

His hands slid down her spine, lingering on the curve of her waist, before dropping to the swell of her hips. He left one hand there, and the other came up to trace the delicate line of her collarbone, his fingers sending a flash of lightning through her.

He then pulled away completely, and she turned to him, a complaint hanging on the tip of her tongue, only for him to angle her face and kiss her.

His lips moved hungrily against hers, taking more and more with fervor, and Catherine found herself willingly bending to his desires, wanting to give him all that he demanded from her and more.

His hands returned to her hips, then moved lower, slipping beneath the fabric of her gown, his touch sending a wave of heat that pooled in her lower abdomen. Catherine gasped, breaking the kiss.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear. “Relax, Catherine,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

She did her best to do ask he asked, willing her muscles to go lax beneath his ministrations. His hands moved lower still, his touch becoming more insistent, more demanding. He began to explore the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, his fingers teasing and tormenting, sending waves of pleasure through her. The yearning was spreading through her like wildfire, claiming every bit of thought and comprehension from her mind.

Then, with a searing kiss on her lips, he lowered himself onto the bed and pushed her legs apart, baring her sex to him.

“Sampson,” she gasped, moaning as the stroked her with a finger, unable to stop herself from bucking her hips.

Her husband smirked down at her, stroking her deeply once again, grinning when he managed to get the same reaction.

“You truly are divine,” he said, his voice somewhat strangled.

Then, he lowered his head, and his lips replaced his fingers as he began to lavish attention on her most sensitive place. Catherine cried out, arching into him.

His tongue worked against her slowly, lapping at the wetness between her legs and teasing her folds.

At first, it seemed sufficient, but then she started to crave more. It felt as though her desires had been bundled up and placed so close yet a little out of reach, bringing her just close enough that she could practically taste it but never touch it.

It made her restless, and she couldn’t help but put a hand on his head, her fingers tangling in his locks as she begged him. Her words were a jumble of incoherency and sounds of debauchery, and she whined when he pulled back completely.

“What do you want, darling? Tell me what you want.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it, couldn’t dare to confess the desires raging within her.

“Please,” she whispered breathlessly, her voice thick with need.

He chuckled, a low, husky sound that sent shivers down her spine. “Please what, Catherine?” he murmured.

He leaned forward just a bit so his lips grazed her folds—a cruel, twisted way of giving her yet another taste of what she wanted.

“Please… more,” she pleaded, her voice barely audible.

He continued to tease her, his tongue and lips working their magic, until she was on the verge of madness.

“Say it, Catherine,” he whispered, his voice a low growl. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” she gasped, her body trembling with anticipation. “I want you. Please give me more.”

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