“Oh God, Nathaniel!” Cecily cried out, shocked, excited, and confused all over again by his words and his actions. “What are you—Ooh!”
Her skirts were now rucked up around her waist, and Nathaniel’s head was buried between her thighs. He kissed the outer lips of her sex as he parted her thighs further, before licking into her.
Cecily had never conceived of such an act before, and had certainly not realized the pleasure it could give. The pleasure sparked by his lips and tongue was as strong and even more thrilling than that elicited by her own fingers on the night he had made her touch herself.
But could it be right? It seemed so very improper to have a man’s head buried between her thighs and his tongue stroking her with such expertise.
“Ooh… Oh, it is indecent… Surely, you cannot…” Cecily panted, her head tossing and turning on the pillow as he slid his hands beneath her buttocks and lapped at her faster.
“You are my wife, and this indecency delights you,” he growled, pausing briefly in his ministrations. “You know it does, Cecily. How soft and luscious you are…”
His fingers joined his tongue before two slid into her, making her back arch. She had not known that a man could caress a woman inside as well as out, but she was learning fast.
“Nathaniel!” she cried out as he slowed his ministrations, aching for more.
Despite her inexperience, her husband seemed to know exactly how to arouse and excite her, drawing out the pleasure until she was almost sobbing with it. Only then did he drive her over the edge, flicking his tongue against her swollen bud while his fingers stroked her spasming inner walls.
Cecily came back to herself, panting on the bed, her skirts still around her waist, while Nathaniel stroked her naked belly and thighs as he lay beside her. His tousled head was now level with hers on the pillow, and his face was set with a mix of expectation and restraint.
Her inhibitions temporarily abandoned, Cecily turned to him and kissed him, tasting herself on his lips. Her gaze drifted down his nakedness, and she inhaled sharply when it landed on his shaft, thicker and bigger than she had imagined it.
Nathaniel grinned as he followed her gaze and made no attempt to cover himself.
“Not yet,” he told her, drawing her skirts back down. “You should have time to imagine how I will mount you, Cecily. It will make it all the sweeter. Anyway, you would not want to keep Rogers waiting, would you?”
With a jolt of alarm, Cecily remembered her order for the valet to come upstairs. Sitting bolt upright and then jumping from the bed, she frantically smoothed her dress and despaired at the disorder of her hair.
As if on cue, footsteps sounded down the corridor, and a few seconds later, there was a light rapping on the outer bedroom door.
“Your Grace?” the valet called. “I have brought hot water and the shaving kit, if you are ready to dress.”
“Two minutes, Rogers,” Nathaniel called back, entirely insouciant as he rose from the bed and stretched.
“Oh no! What will Rogers think? What shall I…?”
He laughed quietly and put an arm around Cecily’s waist to guide her back through the connecting door into her rooms.
“You leave me to dress, and then I shall join you,” he told her simply. “Anyway, there is no need for concern about being foundin my bedroom by Rogers or anyone else. I am your husband, after all.”
“Yes, but you are… naked!” she whispered, blushing deeply as she gestured to his semi-hard shaft.
“All the more reason to be alone with my wife,” he whispered back playfully, before closing the connecting door after her.
* * *
Suited, booted, and well-groomed, Nathaniel ascended the stairs to the second floor of the east wing, where the nursery was. He felt optimistic about life at the moment and hummed to himself as he walked.
How beautifully his delectable new wife had melted into ecstasy under the attention of his mouth and hands. He had no doubts about her desire for him. Soon enough, he would claim her fully and revel in the passion he was slowly unleashing.
As well as approving of his orderly appearance when he had dismissed Rogers and knocked on the connecting door, his still-blushing wife had given him clear instructions on how to speak to an angry and bewildered seven-year-old.
“Just show Lilian that you care,” he muttered under his breath, repeating the words that Cecily had kept emphasizing.
This advice seemed superfluous. Surely, everything he had done showed that he cared, and Lilian must know it. A pony every year was not a gift for an unloved child, was it? Nor was that little carriage built by the same company that built his own carriages. How many little girls had ice cream or lemonade all year round? He loved his daughter immensely, and all that was proof.
Ah, well, Cecily’s advice was not bad in itself, and he was willing to humor her in this, and many other things besides. He had not wanted to upset Lilian, and yet somehow he had. Clearly, he had missed something and would not dismiss Cecily’s suggestions out of hand.
“Miss Osborne, is there a problem?”
