He moved closer to the apex of her thighs, pulling open a leg and handing her the voluminous fabric of her dress.
When Marianne looked down, his eyes were watching hers. “Does this look like meremarriedhunger, wife?” he asked. His eyes were lidded, and he used his free hand to part her more sensitive place. He held it, letting the evening air cool the wet, swollen lips that ached for his touch.
“What’s the alternative?” she asked, fearful of hearing an answer she wouldn’t like. This wasn’t trying for an heir in the duchess’s chambers. It felt illicit despite happening within the confines of marriage and their own home.
“There are many ways to be married,” he said, running his nose up the tops of her thighs to where she was now freed of her knickers. “Why don’t you start by telling me what got this pretty puss all wet?”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” she breathed.
“I’ll go first with a confession: hearing you play that song on the harp gets my cock harder than sin.”
“My playing?” she asked. It was hardly to be expected that an instrument associated with soothing music should inflame the blood so!
“You play your windy tune and my cock leaks on command,” he growled. All the while, she played notes as best as she could.
Marianne thought back to the events they’d both attended during the Season and struggled to recall an instance where she’d have played before him.
“But I don’t—”
And then he dropped his mouth — his mouth! — and licked her from the channel that ached for him to fill her to a nub that caused her legs to shake when touched just the right way.
And Frederick knew just the right way. Suddenly, his comment about having been a libertine made sense. Only a man ofsignificant experience could have her writhing on the seat with just one lick.
“Do you like it?” he asked from between her legs, his lips looking wet and swollen. Some of that must be…oh, it was too humiliating to contemplate!
Frederick’s head blocked Marianne’s legs when she tried to close them, and they rested against his ears ineffectually. He held them in place and rubbed his end-of-day stubble over her skin.
“Oh, it feels so…”
“Yes, I assume it does,” he said with a smirk. “Now, why don’t you tell me what got your lips wet?”
Marianne swiped at her mouth before realizing he meant somewhere different. He laughed and then held his tongue over her nub, not quite touching it, teasing her with the promise of what would happen should she obey her husband. She had only just promised to obey him, witnessed by a good portion of London society, hadn’t she?
“I enjoy…walking in a garden,” she started.
“Tupping in a garden,” he said with a chuckle, rewarding her with a lick.
“Oh no, not!” she exclaimed before breaking into peals of laughter. When had her husband become so funny? Maybe he’dalways been so, and she simply didn’t know him yet. Given their rush to the altar, that made more sense.
Perhaps he was the friend she’d been hoping for when she composed that lonely song. It had seemed too much to hope for then, and even when her handsome duke materialized to claim her hand. Could he be the person she’d wanted all along?
Frederick buried his face betwixt her thighs with obvious, comedic relish. He made little noises as if devouring the most delicious meal with no thought for manners. It was a heady experience for a girl raised with bourgeois morals and limited understanding of sex — until playing at that mysterious townhouse.
She admired his thick, perfectly cut hair and longed to touch it. Would he permit her to do it? Marianne faltered. It was bold, but compared to the service performed between her legs right now, it hardly seemed a breach of protocol.
Lowering her hand to just over his crown, she wove her fingers through his strands so gently he might not even notice.
But he noticed. Frederick’s movements paused, and he looked up at her.
“Do you like it?” he asked, breathing hard.
“I simply wished to touch your hair,” she said, worried she’d caused some offense.
He glanced down at the spot he’d been tasting and then looked up. “Good. Tug on it to direct me.”
“Tug?” she squeaked when he resumed lavishing her with open-mouthed kisses there.
At first, she tried to caress his beautiful locks. But he grew more and more gentle until she longed for his earlier, lusty licks. If Frederick spoke the truth, the way to remedy this lay in her hands. Well, her hand.
