Page 109 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
‘And you are mine, John Harding,’ she answered. ‘I will not be made a fool of.’
He smiled, his fingers tugging loose the ribbon which tied her cloak. The garment fell to the floor.
She felt breathless. It had been such a long time since the night at Pembroke Place and the hours they had spent in the tower.
‘I already know I am yours, Katherine. I have been since Grandfather’s funeral. You have been all I think of and all I have lived for since then. I am your slave, darling.’
His fingers slid her dress off her shoulders, leaving the short, puffed sleeves draped lower down her arms.
Her heart thundered with anticipation. All the feelings she had known in the bright tower room and in his shadowed bedchamber flooded back.
As his gaze held hers, his fingers trailed across the top curve of her breasts. ‘I have missed you,’ he stated as his hand slid into her bodice.
‘Missed my body,’ she answered in a husky voice.
‘Missed you…’ he repeated, as his fingers slipped free of her bodice. He reached about her and began releasing the buttons at her back.
She looked up at the ceiling and faced some Greek scene of women lying all about a chaise longue, dining on fruit.
His lips touched her neck as her dress fell slacker and her breasts seemed to press more firmly against her corset. Her arms lifted and settled on his shoulders as he bit and nipped at her neck; he could make her feel such delicious things and now she was free to love him without guilt. He was making no effort to rush, her dress hung open at the back but his hands merely embraced her waist, as he kissed her neck.
She kissed his earlobe and his temple, and stroked her hands across his back. A part of her could not believe she was his wife.
His hand kneaded her breast over the cloth of her gown as his lips came to hers.
When he broke the kiss she was breathless.
He held onto her gaze as he drew her dress down. Smiling, she pulled his evening coat from his shoulders.
Everything in his expression spoke of a devotion and desire which was beyond physical. He needed her. She knew he did. He was letting her in to view all his vulnerability and letting her know he loved her.
He leaned over her shoulder again and unthreaded her lacing. She began unbuttoning his waistcoat. They then stripped each other systematically and slowly, peeling off the layers. When it came to the last she watched his naked body, sitting on the edge of his bed as her foot rested on his muscular thigh and he rolled down her second stocking.
He kissed the sole of her foot once it was off. Then with one hand still gripping her foot, the other braced her neck and he kissed her lips once more. She melted inside. His gentleness was sublime. It had not been like this in the tower, nor in his bed at Pembroke Place.
‘Lie back,’ he whispered. She did, with her legs still dangling to the floor.
He knelt before her and she throbbed there, burning with need and damp heat as he paid homage with his mouth.
If she could simply forget the world beyond his bedchamber she would have the most wonderful marriage. She was in ecstasy. Her first flood drew close, the wave rising, about to break, but then he ceased and stood and half leaned over her and the wave washed away without a crest.
One hand parted her naked thighs wider, and his other hand pressed down on the mattress beside her, and then there was pressure between her thighs where she had only known it once before.
It was not painful. It felt right. Though the sensation of pressure also felt like stretching, it filled her and completed her, the other half of her whole. But it challenged her and overwhelmed her too, to have him there within her body, where his child already grew.
He was still standing on the floor, leaning over her and pressing into her, slowly, gently.
His movement expressed tenderness, and longing, and a need to relish, but with each movement he gained more depth, pressing a little deeper, urging her legs a little wider.
Her fingers lifted and touched the bruise on his cheek as he withdrew.
His thrusts developed a stronger but still slow rhythm. Her hands held his lower arms, while her legs wrapped about him and her calves gripped at his back.
She was panting in time with his rhythm and all she could focus on was John, on his face as he looked down at her. Her fingernails cut into his forearms and her head pressed back into the bed as she closed her eyes.
His movement quickened.
She broke all about him, tumbling over a cliff into the drifting clouds of heaven.
