Page 41 of The Wicked Duke's Convenient Bride
He grinned slowly. “It seems like you ought to just remove the garment. It is beyond saving.”
“Oh?”
Matthew moved towards her, and Tabitha’s lips twitched. She was trying not to smile and failing terribly. “You cannot best me in argument, so you intend to seduce me into submission?” Tabitha asked.
“It was barely an argument. You were just insulting me.”
“I am sorry you felt insulted,” she said, removing her gown with a flourish. “Does this make you feel better?”
“Almost.”
“Only almost?”
He took the laces of her stays in hand. “I would feel much better if this were gone,” he murmured, pulling the laces free and releasing her breasts. He discarded the garment with a flick of his wrist. It fell somewhere on the floor. “Much better.”
He grasped her waist and effortlessly lifted her onto the table, taking care not to place her near the spilled coffee. Tabitha parted her legs and quirked an eyebrow at him, her invitation obvious. He placed his hands on her knees and drew her in for a kiss. It was only a quick, fleeting thing, and when he pulled away, Tabitha smiled coyly at him. “I shall not be distracted,” she said.
“That sounds like a challenge,” he replied, tracing his hands over her thighs. “We have no time for arguments, anyway. You have an appointment with the modiste today, or have you forgotten?”
“Of course, I have not. I must look impeccable for your mother’s ball tomorrow.” Tabitha paused. “You will need to learn to keep your hands to yourself.”
“I make no promises,” he murmured huskily. “But I might have a better chance of success if you satisfy me now.”
“Oh, really?” Tabitha asked, laughing.
“Yes,” he murmured, placing a kiss on her shoulder and working his way to her jaw. “Otherwise, I shall surely be unable to contain myself, especially when I am sure you will be wearing the most beautiful dress I have ever seen in my life.”
She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You have not even seen the gown yet.”
“Nevertheless, I know you shall be the most beautiful lady at the ball,” he said.
It was not even a lie. She did not look like Rosemary, who he had always thought so very beautiful, but only a blind man or one very lacking in aesthetic taste would disagree with the assertion that Tabitha was a beautiful woman. Her pale blonde hair and wide, gray eyes gave her an innocent, earnest look, and her sly smiles conjured images of mischievous elfin brides and fairy mistresses. She was a marvel, without a doubt.
He pulled up her skirts. Tabitha—for a very brief moment—held herself up by pressing her hands against the table so he could lift her gown to her chemise to her waist and then pull it over her head. She was revealed to him, naked and perfect, and he took a moment to admire her. Although he had seen her without her garments, those had been at night and in dimly lit places. Now, she was naked and in a well-lit room, and he could see everything. His eyes roamed over her full, lovely breasts and down her slender form. She was thin and soft, and seeing her was enough to make his trousers grow uncomfortably tight. When he saw her in that beautiful gown for the ball, Matthew knew his strongest desire would be to tear it from her perfect body.
He kissed her soft, coral lips, jaw, throat, and collarbone. Then, he let his attention wander lower. He grasped her breasts, kneading them in his hands and circling her pink nipples until they rose into hard peaks, like tiny rosebuds beneath his thumbs. “When you are at the ball,” he murmured in her ear, “I will be thinking of this moment. During every dance, every conversation, every whispered conversation between us. I will be thinking of stripping your gown from you and having you just like this over my mother’s dining hall table.”
She groaned. “Oh, God! Now, I shall think of nothing but you for the entire ball!”
He smiled. “I know.”
It had been years since he had spoken so crudely to a woman, but he had said such things to Rosemary often. She always responded well to him, and if the delicate blush spreading across Tabitha’s cheeks was any indication, she enjoyed them, too.
“Perhaps we should not go to the ball at all,” she groaned.
He dropped to his knees between her spread legs and trailed kisses along her thighs. Tabitha lowered herself onto her forearms and tossed her head back. Her legs trembled, and the sight of her quivering form pleased him.
He pressed a finger against her desire, and a low groan tore from her throat. Smiling to himself, Matthew made circles around her sex and then dipped a finger inside her. He felt her inner muscles press against his digit as he moved his finger in and out, loosening her to take his manhood.
She rocked against the table, her breasts bouncing with each movement. Low gasps ripped from her throat as she moved in rhythm with his thrusts. When he inserted another finger, her legs shook, and she cried out. He felt her press against him, her muscles working wildly, and a look of utter bliss crossed her face. Matthew stood and unbuttoned his trousers, freeing his member.
He pushed into her as slowly as he could manage. Matthew wanted to drive himself into her with reckless abandonment, but Tabitha was still unaccustomed to having a man inside her. His first few thrusts were careful while he gave her the time to adjust.
Then, he moved more quickly. Tabitha groaned and jolted with every movement. Dimly, he heard the creak of the wooden table beneath her, but he paid it no heed. Tabitha whined and gasped, her body pressing hard against his. Her face and chest reddened, and she screamed as she came again, her muscles seizing against his manhood.
His release swept over him like a sudden and intense wave crashing against a cliff. He panted raggedly, his palms pressed hard against the table, as he struggled to gather himself following the most powerful release he had felt in more than a decade.
“Is that sufficient?” Tabitha asked.
