Page 106 of What a Duchess Wants

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“Wait there,” he said, moving away from her again and placing his flute back on the mantelpiece.

He went to the bed and began pulling the covers off.

“What are you doing? Won’t we need that later?”

“We need it now,” he rasped.

“With the mattress free of bedding, he pulled it off the bed frame and carried it over to the fireplace to lay it on the floor by her feet. He went back for the silken coverlet and laid it on top. Then he looked at her.

“For weeks, I have wanted to make love to you in the firelight. I have wanted to lay with you, with the warmth against our skin, and explore all of you, with no restrictions.”

“No restrictions,” Rose echoed his words.

“Come over here,” he ordered, beckoning her towards the nursing chair.

He waited until she stood before him, still dressed in everything she had been wearing when she married him.

Very gently, he reached towards her and removed the tiara from her head, taking the veil with it. He left her for a second to lay both on the end of the bed. She did not move at all as she waited for him. He came back to scrutinize her from a foot away. He reached out one hand and touched one of the drop diamonds at her ear.

“These are almost as beautiful as you,” he said softly, looking into her huge blue eyes. “And as much as I would love to make love to you, with you wearing nothing else but them,” he let the words hang in the air between them, “tonight, I want you totally naked.”

He watched as his words registered in her eyes before gently easing first one diamond and then the other from her ears. He put them on the mantelpiece, and the necklace followed.

He was hardly touching her, only letting his fingers brush against her where they needed to, to strip her of any adornment, but he was aware she was trembling.

He pushed his hands up into her hair at the back of her neck, searching for the clips and pins her maid had embedded there, then he removed them, one by one, until her hair cascaded down through his fingers. It hung in curls and tendrils around her face.

“Wild Rose,” he said softly. “That's how I like you.”

He took another step towards her and backed her into the chair. She had nowhere to go to escape him. He took her elbows in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes.

“Are you still keen to be wearing this dress?”

Rose’s smile was slow and delicious as she shook her head from side to side.

“Turn around,” he growled.

As she turned, within the confines of his body and the back of the chair, her body brushed tantalizingly against his. When she had turned to face away from him, he grabbed her and held her body against him, burying his face in her hair. His arms were almost wrapped double around her slim frame as he breathed her in, reveling in the softness of her. But when she sighed and pressed her bottom back against his groin, he opened his arms and took her breasts in his hands from behind. She was leaning slightly forward over the chair, her half-covered breasts dangling, her bottom pushed snugly against him. For a moment, he stood completely still and just allowed the riot of emotion to course through his veins. She did not need to do anything to set his body on fire; just the touch of her, the feel of her, the scent of her was enough. Then reluctantly, he let go of her breasts. If he hadn’t, he was likely to force himself upon her.

There was a row of tiny buttons all the way down the back of the dress. He began to release them one by one. It was a lengthy task with his large fingers, and all the time, she was pressing against his manhood until he became so hard it was almost painful. He needed to step back to undo the buttons over her behind, releasing the pressure on himself, but now he could slide his hands inside the dress and touch her there, feel the mounds of her bottom in his hands… he did not know who he was torturing most.

Her eyes were hooded as he turned her to face him. He gently pulled the dress down, following the line of her body all the way to her feet, where it pooled around her ankles. He got down on his knees to help her get out of it, but his mind had shifted to the point where he wanted to touch and lick her. He buried his face in the silk of her shift at her mid-drift. His legs felt weak; he didn't want to get back up, and she had moved her handsthrough his hair, which was glorious. But he needed to see her, all of her, and this was taking too long for his self-control.

He pulled himself up onto the chair and brought her around to stand before him in her silken shift.

“Take off your shift,” he said in a voice that cracked on the last word. He didn’t touch her, just watched as she smiled at him, reached down to the hem, and swiftly pulled it up and over her head. He grabbed it from her hand and hurled it across the room.

He took a deep breath as his eyes feasted on her. Her breasts were trying to push their way out of the top of the satin corset, which finished just below her ribs. There was an expanse of soft, white flesh all the way down to her satin drawers. Her stomach was as flat and as taut as it had been when she was a girl. Her drawers and stockings covered the lower half of her body, but the top half was basically naked. He took another deep breath, still not daring to touch her, as his manhood pressed against his breeches. He squirmed in the chair.

Rose was fixed on him. He had no idea what she was feeling, but if it was anything like the wave building inside of him, she toomust be on the verge of bursting.

“Now your corset,” he said.

He had specifically purchased a corset that unlaced at the front so she could reach down and pull the ribbons free. As she slowly unlaced it, he realized he was holding his breath. Her breasts sprang forward as she untied the topmost ribbon, revealing two heavy, ivory orbs in front of him. As she continued to undo the laces, he reached up and squeezed one taut nipple between his fingers.

She gasped, and her eyes darkened.

“Do you like that?” He squeezed harder still. She started to push her breasts forward to meet more of his touch as her hands stilled on the laces. “Don’t stop,” he urged her. “And nor will I.”


Tags: Roselyn Francis Historical