Home > The Trouble With Being a Duke (At the Kingsborough Ball #1)(44)

The Trouble With Being a Duke (At the Kingsborough Ball #1)(44)
Author: Sophie Barnes

It felt both right and wicked all at the same time, sending shivers scurrying down her spine. But then she recalled the book she’d found in his library, and whatever excitement she felt was replaced by a sudden nervousness. He probably had vast amounts of experience in this area, whereas she . . . dear God, she knew nothing on the matter.

What if she did something wrong? Something that might displease him or, worse, hurt him? Heaven help her if he suddenly decided that they did not suit after all, due to her lack of expertise in the bedroom. Whatever would she do then? It would be too late and . . . and . . . worst of all, he would see her in a state of complete undress.

Well, she might as well call off the wedding now, because she was only too aware of what she looked like beneath the gentle folds of her gown. She wasn’t fashionably thin, her thighs had too much meat on them, and her br**sts were larger than what was considered proper. God help her!

She was so caught up in her frantic imaginings that she barely paid attention to her surroundings until she’d been lifted off his horse, ushered inside Kingsborough Hall through a back entryway and whisked upstairs to his bedroom. Not until the door closed behind her and the lock clicked into place did it dawn on her where she was, and by then, she was in full panic.

She felt his hands upon her shoulders in the next instant and she flinched, stepping away from him as her gaze wandered the room in search of a chair. If she could only sit down a moment, she was sure she’d feel better.

“Is something wrong?” he asked with a hint of concern.

“Oh . . . er . . . no, not at all.” There! In one corner of the room was a small seating arrangement—two chairs with a table between them. Isabella hurried toward it, feeling in no small part like a complete imbecile as she hastily seated herself in one of them. She then looked at Anthony, who was still standing exactly where she’d left him, regarding her with a bit of a quizzical expression. “I’m just ah . . . er . . . oh, bother!”

One elegant eyebrow lifted in response. “You don’t seem quite yourself. Would you rather go home?”

“No!”

The other eyebrow shot up as well before he recovered from her unexpected outburst, whereupon it relaxed back into its usual position. With slow, careful steps, Anthony crossed the floor to where she sat. He gestured toward the empty seat, and when she nodded her approval, he lowered himself into it. He watched her for a moment before saying, “Something is making you uneasy, Bella. Would you like to tell me what it is so I can help you relax?”

She shook her head. It would be impossible for her to confide the source of her fears in him—or so she thought until she felt his hand upon hers and looked up into his eyes, finding nothing but loving reassurance there. With a deep breath she told him of her worries while he, in turn, sat patiently and listened.

He didn’t frown or smile or make any other attempt to judge her, but when she was finished, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed each of her fingertips before saying, “First of all, you must never allow yourself to think that I find your figure displeasing, for I love your lush curves and the softness that your br**sts and thighs have to offer. Your body arouses me to no end, Bella, and if you don’t believe me, then allow me to show you.”

And before Isabella could fathom what he was about, he lowered her hand against his groin. He was hard there beneath the fabric of his trousers, and though her heart was beating wildly in her chest and her mouth had long since gone dry, she found herself unable to pull away. There was something fascinating and empowering about this effect she had on him.

“Second of all,” he continued, his gaze locked with hers as he moved her hand over him, “there is nothing you can do to cause me displeasure, nor anything that would ever cause me to think less of you. Just do what feels right, try whatever piques your curiosity . . . experiment in any way you please. This is our playroom, Bella, and as long as we are alone here, there will be no boundaries between us.”

His words of reassurance eased away her troubled thoughts, and as he lowered his mouth over hers, she did not pull away but welcomed his kiss instead.

Feeling the hot, moist pressure of his tongue as it traced its way along the seam of her lips, she opened her mouth to allow him entry. A low, throaty groan escaped him in response to her acceptance and she found herself leaning toward him, trying to get closer just as his arms came around her waist, pulling her from her seat and onto his lap.

Not for a second did he disengage his mouth, his tongue roving over and under hers as he pulled her against him. She pressed herself closer, flattening her chest against his and delighting in the wave of heat this simple act evoked. He abandoned her mouth to trail hot kisses along her jawline and down her neck. “Forget your inhibitions,” he murmured as he ran his hand up along her side, but then he stopped his progress (annoying man) and said, “Open your eyes and look at me.”

On a deep, steadying breath she complied and was instantly stunned by the ravenous look in his eyes. His lips were slightly parted and his breathing was deep and labored. He didn’t say anything further as he gently lifted her until she was almost standing, then he raised her skirts until they were bunched around her thighs and turned her so that when he pulled her back down she found herself sitting astride his lap. “That’s much better,” he muttered with a wolfish grin as he placed his hands against her bottom and scooted her closer until she felt herself pressed against his hardness. “Now move, touch me, let yourself go.”

Unsure of herself, Isabella hesitantly raised her hands against his chest. Remaining perfectly still, he watched as she ran her hands over him. She knew he wouldn’t mind her touch, and yet something inside her—some stupid, ingrained reservation—stopped her from acting on the impulse she felt to undress him.

She bit her lower lip instead and closed her eyes to draw a deep breath. His lips were on her again, this time lower, against the swell of her br**sts, his tongue tracing a trail of embers along the edge of her gown, and when he gently pinched that tender flesh with his teeth, a flood of sensation darted straight between her thighs, and she gasped in response.

“If I can do it, so can you,” he murmured as his fingers went to work on the back of her gown. It didn’t take long for him to loosen it enough to pull it down, freeing her br**sts to his reverent gaze.

She heard him suck in a breath, and in the next instant she felt hot air teasing her perky peaks, dizzying her mind against the onslaught of pulsing energy that strummed through her, pushing her to finally do what she so desperately longed to.

Tugging at his shirt, she freed it from his breeches and ran her hands beneath. With a groan of pleasure he settled his mouth against one breast and began to suckle. She kissed his neck, nibbling carefully while her hands continued to explore. But it wasn’t enough—she wanted more—needed to calm this growing desire that pooled at her core, so she did what instinct told her to do and ground herself against him.

“Bloody hell,” he gasped, releasing her breast and squeezing his eyes shut.

For a moment she almost paused, fearful that she might have done something he did not like, but then his eyes opened and she recognized the hunger that was there, and with her gaze locked on him, she rotated her h*ps again. It felt good—really good.

“That’s it,” he said on a breath of air as a sigh escaped her lips. “I knew you had it in you.”

Encouraged by his words and aroused to the point where whatever inhibitions she’d had had been tossed right out the proverbial window, she pulled her skirts up higher and placed her hand between them. God, she felt wicked, but the fire in his eyes told her that he more than approved of this newfound, wanton behavior.

Gazing at him from beneath her lashes as she stroked them both with her fingers, she found herself saying, “You asked me once if I ever touch myself here, and I said no. I didn’t lie to you, but since then, I must admit I’ve done it . . . often.”

His breath grew ragged when he lowered his gaze to watch the progress of her movement, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he also grew harder. “And what do you think about as you give yourself pleasure?” His voice was rough as he posed the question.

Bringing her free hand to his cheek, she brushed her fingertips lightly against him and whispered, “You—always you.”

With a groan he swept her into his arms and carried her toward the bed, settling her gently on the edge. He didn’t speak as he pulled her arms from the sleeves of her gown and lowered the garment to her waist. Getting up, she allowed it to fall at her feet. Her chemise was next, and Anthony didn’t hesitate a second to whisk it over her head and toss it aside. Stepping back, his eyes trailed over her, and the look of appreciation she saw there made her feel silly for ever worrying that he might not approve. It was blatantly obvious that he did, his eyes practically sparkling with glee.

“I believe it is your turn to undress, Your Grace,” she said, offering him a cheeky smile as she stepped toward him. “And I would be more than happy to assist.”

He did not move as she pushed his jacket from his shoulders, nor did he flinch as her fingers pulled away his cravat and worked the buttons of his shirt. But when she traced the waistline of his breeches, she heard him suck in a breath and she raised her gaze to meet his in question.

“Allow me to remove my boots before you continue,” he said as he went to work on the task—tugging on the stubborn footwear until they were tossed in quick succession across the floor, where they landed with a thump.

Straightening himself, he allowed her to continue where she’d left off. A surge of excitement coursed through her at the prospect of what she was about to do. This man would soon be her husband, and she had every intention of getting to know his body as well as she knew her own.

No sooner had she unfastened the last button holding his breeches in place than that hard length of him sprang free. Curious, she hesitantly curled her fingers around the smooth surface and slowly ran her thumb back and forth, cautiously eyeing him to ensure that he didn’t mind her taking such liberties.

“Oh my God,” Anthony muttered. The sensation of her fingers upon him like this was divine—she was divine. Heaven help him, but he’d never experienced anything close to this before. No other woman could possibly measure up. In his mind there was only Bella. He took a steadying breath as he looked at her, the expression upon her face so full of passion and focus.

Whatever he’d said or done to bring out the vixen in her had certainly worked. She was incredible, and as she tugged him ever so gently, a surge of heat rushed to his groin while sparks of desire flittered across his skin. He’d never been this aroused before in his life!

Capturing her mouth in a hot and fervent kiss, he ran a hand over her hip, across her bottom and down to the soft flesh of her womanhood. “Yes,” she gasped as she parted her legs to grant him further access.

Trailing a finger along her center, he abandoned her mouth in favor of her ear, nibbling gently on the lobe as she trembled against him. “You’re so wet, Bella, so ready and . . .” He dipped a finger inside her. “So tight.”

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