Page 70 of The Devil to Pay

She turned her head to stare at him and let out a shaky breath. “I can do that,” she agreed.

“Then let me see if I can gain your attention.” Shifting over her, he bent his head and did what he had been longing to do ever since he had first realised what magnificent proportions were hiding under her dreadful gowns. He took one ruddy nipple into his mouth.

She made a little squeaking sound and her breathing sped up, but he applied himself to his task, using his tongue to gently circle and tease first one breast, then the other. Finally, she let out a long, shuddering sigh, and he felt her hands go to his hair.

“Touch me as much as you want to,” he told her. “I shall die if you don’t.”

She did as he directed and he revelled in the feel of her hands exploring him, of her confidence growing as she allowed her curiosity to take charge. When she reached down and squeezed his buttock with one hand, he could not help but give a snort of laughter.

“Sorry,” she said, blushing as he looked down at her. “I’ve been longing to do that.”

The admission pleased him more than he could say, but he simply kissed her hard to make sure she knew he approved and carried on his own inventory of his new wife. Slowly, he made his way down her body, kissing and nuzzling, touching her so very gently, moving her now pliant limbs this way and that. She especially liked his tongue on the sides of her breast and sighed blissfully, making a sound of regret as he moved on to explore her soft belly.

He wondered if she would protest as he kept moving down, nuzzling into the fiery thatch of curls between her thighs and growing dizzy as the womanly scent of her invaded his mind. Davenport had given herself over to him, though, and made not a murmur of protest, only sweet whispering sighs and moans that made him ache with the desire to be inside her.

Settling himself between her spread legs, he looked down at her, gazing across her fair skin, rosy with desire and sprinkled with golden freckles, to her lovely face, pink cheeked, soft red lips slightly parted.

“Any complaints?” he enquired softly.

“No,” she sighed. “Can’t think of one… of anything… Carry on,” she added, dazed, with an authoritative sweep of her hand.

Having been given his orders, Jules was more than content to obey, and what a marvel it was, to see his tightly laced, high-handed, proud wife dissolve under the touch of his mouth and hands. At the first touch of his tongue to the little secret bud between her thighs, she almost hit the ceiling and gave an exclamation of surprise that made her clap her hand to her mouth.

“Oh!” she said, staring down at him. “Oh, my.”

Jules grinned at her and carried on. Though he knew she was doing her utmost to keep still and not make a sound after her outburst, she could not do so. Little by little, he broke through her defences with slow, gentle sweeps of his tongue. Carefully he slid a finger inside her, thrilled by the slick heat discovered by his intimate questing.

“Jules,” she whispered, her head tilting back. “Oh, I didn’t know… I didn’t know.”

“It’s my pleasure to explain it all, Davenport,” he said unsteadily, entirely consumed by the vision of her abandoning herself to his touch. Returning to his work, he continued to lap at her with slow, firm sweeps of his tongue until she clutched at the sheet and cried out. The waves of her climax rolled over her, hips bucking as she let go of any last vestige of shyness. The sounds of her joy sent a thrill of triumph lancing through him, a surge of masculine pride and possessiveness he had never known before. Yet he knew no other man could have unbent his proud Boadicea to such wantonness, and the only reason he had succeeded was because he had earned her trust.

Pleased beyond measure, he could not hide his grin as he climbed back up her body, staring down at the destruction he had wrought. Flushed, her skin damp, her breath coming in short little gasps, Selina took one look at him and buried her hands in her face.

“Oh, good heavens! I shall never be able to look at you again!” she said, though the words were muffled.

“That might make breakfast a touch awkward,” he observed gently, stroking her face. “Selina, my own darling, don’t be bashful. There’s nothing to be embarrassed by here. I’m your husband, and if I please you, then that is as it should be. Do you think less of me for what I have done, to bring you pleasure?”

That brought her hands down, an indignant frown puckering her brow. “Of course not!”

“Well then, why should you feel ashamed of having enjoyed it?”

She considered this as he waited. Eventually, she met his eyes. “That makes a good deal of sense, only women are not supposed to… to like it, and the reverend said—”

“I already told you to consign that blasted book to the bin, or the fire, I’m not fussy. If you don’t. I shall,” he said resolutely. “The reverend is no doubt a pious fool who thinks women should suffer through sex and childbirth without a whimper and do their duty.”

“He was rather a windbag,” Selina agreed thoughtfully. Her expression became indignant. “And he had the most outrageous things to say about our ability to—”

Jules kissed her, not about to allow the Reverend Snipe another moment of his wedding night.

“I’ve not finished yet, love,” he reminded her, settling between her legs.

She stiffened, her previously languid limbs suddenly taut.

“Easy,” he said, smiling down at her.

“Yes,” she said, taking a breath and making an obvious effort to relax. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Talk to me,” he said, reaching up to stroke her face. His arousal was pressed close against her sex, and he was in an agony of pent-up desire, but he was damned if he would do a thing until she wanted him to. “Are you still afraid?”