Page 121 of His Duchess of Scandal
“Heavens help us,” Isabella muttered, glancing skyward.
And a peal of laughter rippled through the group. Hermia’s heart softened, warmed by the sight of her friends and her family together, all content and happy.
She had never thought such things were possible, yet they were. Somehow, she had been the torment of the ton, both a spinster and a shamed woman, yet it had all brought her to this: this perfect bubble and life.
Being the Duchess of Branmere to the most handsome Duke of Branmere.
And later that night, she had more news to deliver.
That night, Hermia slipped through the door connecting their chambers. They shared the same room now, but it had become a little game of who broke first to seek the other out.
That night, it was Hermia.
Entering Charles’s chambers in only her robe and nothing underneath, she found him lounging in bed, one arm tucked behind his head. His chest was bare, the sheets lowered to his hips just enough to tease her, but not enough to show anything.
“I thought you would never join me,” he drawled, his voice low and rough with the dark promises he always made in their bedroom. “I feel as though I have been waiting an eternity for you.”
“That is a beautiful line,” Hermia teased, moving towards him.
He was already shifting, his hands reaching for her.
“It is no line, my Hermia. My Aphrodite. Do you recall what I told you that night at the party?”
“You told me many things.”
“We discussed licking wine from one another’s mouths the next time we met, and I believe I have a debt to pay.”
Charles pointedly looked towards the bedside table, where a candle illuminated a bottle of wine and a length of silk.
“Do you recall the blindfolds, Hermia?” he whispered.
“I do,” she whispered back.
“Then close your eyes and reach for me. Speak if it is too much, and we will stop.”
Hermia felt his fingers slide through hers, and she was pulled closer to the bed. She felt strong thighs bracketing her legs as the silk was draped over her eyes. Darkness engulfed her, yet she welcomed it, feeling safe, knowing the hands on her were Charles’s.
“I am right here,” he further assured her. “I am going nowhere.” His hands tightened around hers, before he carefully,slowly, peeled her robe off her. He made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat. “I am definitely going nowhere.”
They laughed softly as he buried his face in her chest, his mouth immediately capturing one erect nipple, and then moving towards the other one. Gasps escaped Hermia’s lips as she arched into his warm mouth.
“I could lose myself in this perfect chest of yours all day,” Charles groaned. “Heavens, if I am buried, let it either be between your breasts or your thighs.”
“Charles,” she whined, gripping his hair, the length that curled around his collar.
“Yes, my love?”
“You tease.”
“Because you get wetter when I do so.” He laughed darkly.
He pulled away from her, and she heard the clink of the wine bottle before the lid was tugged off. She heard the telltale sound of it being drunk, and then she was maneuvered onto the bed.
Her back pressed into the pillows, and Charles hooked two fingers beneath her chin to tilt her head up. Gently, he tapped her lips.
She parted them, and his mouth descended on hers, pouring wine into her mouth, the two of them sharing the taste. Charles let out a hungry growl as he gripped her chin, chasing a droplet with more teeth than tongue, and pushed her back into the pillows.
Without her sight, everything else was heightened. The press of his naked body, the richness of the wine, the way he touched her.
