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Relief lit in her warm eyes. “It is, oh thank you, Sebastian.”
He stood and held out his hand which she clasped. He tugged her up and made his way from the music room down the hallway and up the stairs to his chamber to have a proper wedding night.
Chapter 7
Fanny’s heart beat an agonizing rhythm, her sensitized skin tingled with every caress, her husband’s warm, masculine scent filled her lungs. The smell of him aroused a curious sensation within her, between her legs ached most strangely and wonderfully. And his kisses…she purred into the lips that seduced her with devastating expertise.
He turned her around, pressing a hot but so soft kiss at the back of her neck. And then he started to undress her. No words had been spoken as they climbed the stairs, and no words had been uttered once they entered the chamber. He’d simple snuffed out the lamps and candles which had bathed the masculine and tastefully decorated room in a warm glow. Then he had taken her in his arms, and her entire world had caught fire at the exquisite sensations he roused in her heart.
He pressed a kiss on her bared shoulder blade, and she trembled, a blush heating her skin. Though he had taken away most of the light, that roaring fireplace danced and flickered with enough light to make her decidedly anxious. Soon her nightgown was whisked from her body, and her chemise pushed to her waist.
Fanny gripped the firm fingers on her waist. “My lord…”
“Sebastian…wife.”
Oh, the possessive tenderness in his voice stirred something sweet and achy low in her stomach.
“What is it?” he asked, his breath fanning her ears.
To stand before him naked would leave her with little dignity. Fanny's throat burned, and she felt uncertain. “Must…Must I be unclothed, my lord?”
She was terribly conscious of those searing eyes upon her. The hands at her waist tugged, and she turned around into his arms, lifting her chin to meet his regard.
“I must own that it does seem shocking to a lady with your fine sensibilities, but bedding is an act typically done without clothes on,” he murmured.
She bit her lips, how mortifying. “I…I…”
“You can leave on your chemise, wife.”
A shock of deep awareness and recognition flashed through her. That admission cost him something. But what? Shadows danced in his eyes, and her heart trembled in reaction.
“Sebastian—”
He kissed her. Hot,deep and carnal. With a sigh she parted her lips to his questing tongue, returning his kiss with ardor.
The room shifted, and with a muffled gasp she gripped his shoulder, delighted with the ease with which he lifted her into his arms. A few steps later, he placed her in the center of the large four poster bed, putting them in welcomed darkness.
She lay there, nervous and expectant while he climbed off, and divested himself of his clothes. The room was dim, and shadows were deep, but there was enough illumination from the fireplace, and Fanny could not look away as her husband slowly revealed himself to be the finest specimen she'd ever seen. A flash of golden muscle, a hint of shadows here, powerful thighs, and then he was back on the bed, blanketing her with his body.
Dear God. It was about to happen. Fanny felt faint. A desperate feeling of unreality crept through her. He braced above her on his elbows and pressed the softest of kiss to her lips and tears pricked behind her lids. Sebastian slowly deepened his embrace and the tension which had reclaimed her limbs gradually dispersed.
Without releasing her lips, he pushed her nightgown to her hips, and nudged her legs wide, cradling his weight between her open thighs. The deeper he kissed her, the more profound the ache low in her stomach became. Fanny quaked in the cage of his arms when Sebastian’s wicked fingers delved between her splayed thighs, finding the hot, wet place between her legs and rubbing gently. The abrasion of a callus heightened the sensation into a fiery ache. Her breathing came harshly, and she swallowed, adjusting to the strangeness of his intimate caress.
His fingers moved over her folds, and she arched her hips toward his questing fingers. Yes. Yes, this was what she had wanted, but she remained silent. Ladies should not be wanton or beg their husbands to touch firmer, to rub that aching spot harder.
Their lips parted, and though her eyes were wide open in the dark, she could barely discern his features. A kiss brushed her lips, then her jaw. And dear god, he slipped a finger deep inside of her. There was a slight pinch, a brief flare of discomfort, and then Fanny felt a low, hot pressure inside. To her shame and delight, she wanted more.
He moved his finger back and forth, and she gripped his shoulders, desperate for an anchor against the storm. She could feel it building, whipping through her blood, igniting deep within her body. The sensations became too much, and she slapped a hand over her mouth to control the wild cries that wanted to spill forth. A second finger entered her. A whimper escaped, and he paused.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Are my fingers too callused?”
A weird embarrassment touched her. His fingers were touching her there. “I…I…they are fine.”
“You are too tight.”
