Page 36 of Wedded to the Forbidden Duke
“I am doing no such thing,” he assured her.
Now, kneeling between her legs, he hiked up her skirts further and began peppering kisses up along her legs, even to her thighs.
When he replaced his fingers with his tongue, Cecilia grasped at the sheets beneath her, unable to do anything but moan. After a few seconds of grasping, she felt one of Ian’s hands take hers. The other remained firmly wrapped around her leg, holding her steady as he licked and sucked at her, stoking the fire within her even brighter.
She had never imagined anything like this. It should have been dirty, what he was doing, unwholesome—and yet, how could anything that felt this good be wrong?
He continued to explore, testing out what reactions she had to different types of kisses and licks, before focusing on the spots that produced the loudest sounds, the most desperate pleas.
“God, that feels good,” she cried when he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Ian, I—I am?—”
“That is it,” he murmured against her, as she tumbled towards some unknown apex.“You are so good for me, wife. So sweet, so responsive. Come to the edge for me. Give yourself over to pleasure, my beautiful Cecilia.”
As he continued, his tongue hot and wet, his hand gripping hers, Cecilia had the feeling of being swept towards something. The tension in her body grew, climbing higher and higher like a crescendo of a great symphony, before reaching what felt like a breaking point.
Crying out his name, Cecilia tumbled over the edge. It felt as though she were falling or flying. The wave of pleasure that crashed over her was so intense as to be overwhelming. As she began to come back down from her peak, she found that she was trembling.
Ian climbed back up the bed and settled next to her, kissing her deeply. “Are you all right?” he asked, caressing her face.
When Cecilia got her breath back, all she could do was laugh. “Yes,” she said, leaning back into the pillow and letting her eyes flutter shut. “Oh, yes.”
Chapter Fifteen
Cecilia woke to the sounds of birds outside the window.
Smiling to herself, she rolled over, reaching out, as though by instinct. But there was no one in the bed besides her.
That is not out of the ordinary, she thought, wanting almost to scold herself for daring to feel disappointed.What did you expect?
But…she could not deny that it stung. She had thought she and Ian had truly connected last night. Even before he had taken her to her chambers and pleasured her, she had felt as though she were truly getting to know the man, intimately, without fighting, for the first time. It was as though something had clicked into place between them.
As though, for once, they had something over which they truly saw eye to eye.
As though he almost cared…
She shook her head. She was getting carried away. This was a truce they had reached, nothing more. Whether or not he was her husband, she knew one thing about Ian Repington, and that was that he would always be a rake first and foremost. While last night had been a first for her, she was far from the first woman he had pleasured. Why should he feel any push to stay the night?
Still, she could not keep back her slight disappointment when she arrived in the dining room for breakfast to find the table empty.
After eating quickly, she thought perhaps to find him in his study. She walked around the house, admiring the fine molding that crowned each wall, and the fine wallpapers that adorned each hallway.
It was not the first time she had walked the path to Ian’s study, but it was the first time
To her surprise, Ian was not there—but neither was the study empty.
Instead, Mr. Ainsworth was there, seated at the desk, smoking a pipe as he looked over some papers.So that is why the room so often smells of tobacco,she thought. It had always struck her as odd, seeing as how she had never seen Ian smoke.
Mr. Ainsworth looked up when he heard her enter. “Ah! Your Grace.”
She curtsied. “Good morning, Mr. Ainsworth. It is so good to see you. May I ask if you know where I might find my husband? I can’t seem to figure out where in this large house he might be,” she joked.
“Oh, he did not tell you?” Mr. Ainsworth raised his eyebrows. “He is off to London, Your Grace,” he said.
Cecilia felt her smile fall. “London?” It felt as though her heart had dropped into the pit of her stomach.
Mr. Ainsworth waved his pipe, as though to wave away her concern. “Do not fear, Your Grace, he shall be back shortly. I doubt he is any more eager to be separated from you for longer than necessary than you are to be separated from him.”
“Of course.”
