Page 41 of A Scandal Before Christmas
She stood, waiting for him to decide how he would proceed. Slowly walking around her, he placed a hand at the curve of her waist and swept the filmy tulle of the veil aside and over her shoulder.
The back of the silk, ivory-hued dress consisted of a row of buttons matching the pearls decorating the bodice. There appeared to be two hundred of the little devils, and Lord only knew how his suddenly clumsy fingers might accomplish this task.
But he managed.
She released a sigh when he was done unfastening them all, and Theodore held back a groan as the next layer of garments came into view through the opened back. A creamy confection of a corset emerged as he helped Lauren carefully step out of the puddle of skirts. Matching silk stockings and tiny, bow-topped heeled slippers completed the vision of loveliness. She still held her bouquet, so he removed it from her hand. Before tossing it aside, he plucked a piece of mistletoe from its center.
He twirled her slowly so she faced him, his palm easing down her side until it rested on her curved hip.
“Lauren.”
The husky tone of his voice made her sway. Her eyes drifted shut then opened to lock on his. The grey shade of her irises was nearly obliterated by the darkness of the pupils, dilated as they were with arousal. He showed her the mistletoe, and her breath caught.
“A truth. I love you. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Theodore.” She swallowed, her hands lifting so that she cradled his face in her palms. “A truth. I love you. More than you can possibly know. I’m sorry for doubting you again. Will you forgive me?”
He kissed her softly as he tossed the mistletoe aside. “I will always forgive you if you will always forgive me, for we are bound to make mistakes, and there will be misunderstandings. But I swear to you, I will never stop loving you.”
“And I will never stop loving you.” She sighed as he pulled at the strings of the corset, loosening them until the boned structure fell away, revealing a thin, silky chemise beneath. Suppressing a growl, Theodore drew that over her head, careful not to disturb the veil. For some reason, the thought of her body partially concealed by the dream-like material was highly erotic, as was the idea of her keeping on the stockings and delicate shoes.
“Now that you are my wife, you should know I plan on thoroughly corrupting you within the confines of our bedroom.” He trailed a line of open-mouth kisses down her throat, scalding and persistent on the chosen path toward her breasts. Reaching one pale, pink tip, he sucked it deep into his mouth, groaning because she was as sweet as confectioner’s sugar on his tongue.
“I would be thoroughly disappointed if you did not.”
As she spoke, her hands tugged at his shirttails, pulling them free of his trousers before moving on to the button placket. After a few moments, Theodore tore himself away from suckling her breasts to quickly remove his garments. When Lauren moved to remove her veil and kick off her shoes, he stopped her, pulling her against the hard length of his body. She felt so good, his eyes closed against a wave of emotion.
“Leave them on, darling. You have no idea how gorgeous you are.”
Scooping her up, he carried her to his bed, laying her down and arranging the veil so that it draped over her shoulders and flat belly.
“Beautiful.” He kissed the soft skin under her bellybutton.
Lauren’s hands smoothed over his wide shoulders. “Beautiful,” she repeated.
When he settled his mouth against the flesh between her thighs, she arched into the heat of his tongue, an inarticulate cry escaping her lips. With a groan of absolute hunger, Theodore gripped her hips, holding her still for the lashing of his tongue as he drove her over the edge within a matter of minutes.
Kissing his way back up her body, he lavished attention to her breasts, licking and tugging them deep into his mouth before giving the hard buds a teasing nip from his sharp teeth. When she was writhing beneath him again, he chuckled and began ravishing her mouth. Sliding his tongue along hers, he plunged deep and slow until she was whimpering for more, her hands frantically pulling at his body so he would come inside her.
Reaching a hand down between them, Theodore swept two fingers along the slick folds of womanly flesh. With sly purpose, he brushed over her clitoris, laughing softly when she shuddered.
“So wet. Wet and ready for me to take you. Are you ready, darling wife?”
“Please, Theodore. Have mercy on me. Make me yours,” she moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck and attempting to pull him down harder on top of her. “I need… more…”
“Yes, love. I know you do, and I will give you that and more—anything you ask of me.” With a quick motion, Theodore flipped her onto her stomach, his arm anchoring under her belly and lifting so that her bottom was raised higher in the air.
She squealed with the abrupt motion, but as he instructed her on what he wanted, she obeyed with a tortured moan of anticipation. Braced on her knees, face pressed to the coverlet and the veil pooling over her bare back, she was quite a sight. When her arms extended out above her head, her fists gripping the bedclothes, Theodore knew he’d never seen a woman so damned beautiful.
Standing beside the bed, he moved so that he was between her thighs. Her sex glistening with need, a quivering sigh escaped her when he smoothed a hand over the twin globes of her bottom. Perfectly round, the color of cream, and smooth as silk, they called for his hands. To mark them. To soothe them.
He gave one side an experimental swat and was rewarded with a surprised cry that died off in what might be a strangled groan of pleasure. His cock jerked in response. He treated the other side to the same, and Lauren gripped the counterpane harder. Her hips circled before jutting back toward him.
“Wait, darling. I’m coming in. Open for me. Open.”
Taking his cock in hand, Theodore rubbed himself over the exposed flesh of her sex, gratified when she rocked against him, murmuring incoherently. He thought about making them both wait—making them both suffer the delicious torment of delayed satisfaction, but he couldn’t. Not when she made such intoxicating sounds of need. Not when she moved so wantonly. He was mad for her and she for him. He needed her. Now.
Sliding inside her heat was like coming home. It was everything. It was warmth. It was silk. It was love and comfort and a sense of belonging. It was Lauren. That was enough.
