Page 60 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
She shifted again, moving her hips as though searching for pressure that was not there. “I want ye to touch me the way you did before.”
“Mm.” He drew the word out and squeezed himself again.
She looked so delectable in the candlelight, the gold lining her pale skin. Glinting off her hair. Such beautiful hair she had, a riot of color by day and something deep and mysterious by night.
Later, perhaps, he would be irritated by how keenly he noticed these things about her, and how much he appreciated them, but lust heated his blood and desire sang in his veins, and she wanted him to touch her.
He was a gentleman; what else could he do but oblige?
He advanced, crawling up the bed beside her. There, lying on his side, he placed his hand on her bare breast. The peaked nipple stood to attention in his palm, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
“Relax,” he murmured, giving her time to come to terms with the feel of his hand on her. “There we go, my sweet. Does that not feel good?”
“Aye,” she said, her skin flushing under his hand.
He trailed his fingers around her nipple, circling the bud and she squirmed under his ministrations. Then he turned his attention to the other. Sweet breasts, the perfect handful, soft and heavy. Her breathing turned deep and drugged now, her body pliant.
She was ready for him.
“There you are,” he said, bringing his mouth down to hers.
She kissed him back with lazy intensity, and he continued touching her, moving from her breasts to slide a hand down her stomach.
She shifted impatiently, and he broke the kiss to move down her body, kissing a trail down her neck to her collarbones, then lower. Lower. He sucked a nipple into his mouth and her back arched off the bed. Then he did the same with the other.
“Adrian,” she gasped.
He raised his head. “Yes?”
“Ye aren’t touching me the way ye said ye would.”
“Patience. It is a virtue.”
“I have no virtues.”
He laughed then, low and dark, and pressed his face into her stomach. One hand moved to her inner thigh, sliding back and forth.
Oh, she was ready for him.
His body ached to tie hers in place so he might have his way with her. But there were other means of submission, and this was their first time.
Herfirst time.
Perhaps she would enjoy it, but she ought to know what to expect from a coupling first.
Still. He could teach her some things.
“I like it when a lady is compliant,” he said against her skin, sliding a finger through her slick flesh. “I prefer to take control. Do you understand?”
She tensed under him. “How?”
“I give you commands, and you obey them.” He touched her again, this time for a little longer, and he felt the way the moan slipped from her lips. “And I use your body as I see fit.”
“Adrian—”
“I will not give you any commands today,” he continued, biting at her hipbone. She let out a mewling sound. “And I will do my best to be gentle. But know this, Isobel.” He looked up, meeting her eyes in the candlelight. “When I take you in this fashion, it does not mean you are any less mine than when I restrain you to the bed and take my time with you.”
Her eyes flared, and he didn’t miss the sudden flood of additional wetness on his fingers. She liked that, even if she didn’t want to admit it. No matter—he would have time to reconcile her to the notion.
