Page 103 of His Duchess of Scandal
Within seconds, she had his breeches unfastened and pushed down enough for him to break the kiss and yank them off. His length sprang up, thick and curved, and the ache between her legspulsed.
“I must prepare you,” he muttered against her mouth when she reached to guide him between her legs.
“I am certain that I do not need it,” she answered.
“I refuse to take that risk.”
“I am ready. I amfine.” She grasped at his face, her nails dragging through his beard, which faintly smelled like bergamot and vanilla. “I do not need preparation.”
Although her eyes dropped to his impressive girth.
Charles smirked. “I will prepare you.”
But Hermia was impatient, had been aching for the duration of her posing for the painting, and simply pushed her knees up and pressed them to her chest the way he had shown her.
Charles’s gaze darkened, and he cursed under his breath.
“Look at you.” He slid an affectionate hand down the back of her thigh before squeezing it. Her breath caught in her throat, and she shimmied towards him. “So ready for me.”
“Always,” she whispered. “Please, Charles. Give me all of you.”
His length pressed against her, teasing and warning at once. “You know I am weak for anything you ask of me, you wicked wife of mine.”
With that, he entered her in one sharp thrust. A whine tore from her throat. It was as though every time they did not couple for a day or two, she forgot just how much he could fill her.
Charles slid right into her. There was no preamble, no waiting, nor adjusting. She found she did not need it, not beyond a moment to catch her breath, which was immediately punched back out of her with his next thrust.
She moaned as he rocked into her. Her thighs remained pressed to her chest, and Charles framed himself between them. Herknees draped over his shoulders, her ankles crossed over his back.
“Heavens, you are so deep,” she groaned, her voice breaking.
Her hand dropped to her stomach. She could swear she would feel him if only she pressed hard enough. She might even see his shape.
Charles let out a harsh breath, as if he read her thoughts. His fingers slid through hers before he took her wrists in one hand and pinned her arms above her head. It allowed her to take him deeper.
His hips snapped against her backside, the sound erotic, like a dream Hermia had always shied away from. But there she was, folded, the object of her husband’s desire.
Their bodies moved in tandem, and she kept thinking of how she was his muse. How he had the duchess he wanted to watch the stars with, and how she had found a man who listened to her and thought she was beautiful. Who thought she was more than that.
Who looked at a lady who had been forced to raise her three sisters, who had neglected her own future to begin securing theirs, and yet thought that she was still enough.Morethan enough. Who saw all of that and still thought her intelligent and a mother figure and worthy of painting.
“Charles,” she gasped. “Charles, I want to climax with you.”
“I am close,” he told her, his voice not quite a growl, but more of a breathy groan. “Come with me.”
After a few more thrusts, Hermia felt her walls clench around his length, heard his strangled groan as he finally spilled into her. She welcomed every part of him as he rocked shallowly before finally pulling out.
He did not stand up immediately. Instead, he pulled her closer on the chaise, his smile softened from that sharp smirk. Hermia rested on his chest, boneless. She let herself be held.
A small voice in her head dared to think that she was finally letting herself beloved.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Aweek later, Hermia strolled arm-in-arm with Charles through Hyde Park. A pace ahead of them, Phoebe skipped in front of her governess.
The weather was pleasant and warm, and Hermia tipped her head back to feel the sun rays on her face.
“I will fly, too!” Phoebe declared, running to the end of the path, spreading her arms as she watched two birds take off, flying alongside one another. Their pale wings stretched wide, brushing one another, and Hermia glanced at Charles.
