He cuts off my question by sinking to the floor.
“Your Grace? I do not?—”
He continues to move me toward the edge, and before I can finish my query, I feel his mouth upon my sex. First, his breath—hot and stimulating, making me keenly aware of how stirred I have become.
“Your Grace, please, I—” The moment his tongue touches the bud of my flower, I have no idea what I meant to say. Whether a protest, or a request for him to hasten, I can no longer recall. My hands grasp the coverlet, fingers curling around the fabric in a fragile attempt to hold myself steady.
It is a challenging endeavor indeed. As his tongue circles my bud, his hands grasp my legs. It is enough to make me come undone. I do not know if I wish him to stop, or hasten it along.
Regardless of what I may wish, His Grace seems disinclined to make haste. He appears eager to take his time as he works his way inside my delicate flower. Each swipe of his tongue causes me to stiffen, but a rush of pleasure follows. Though he does not hurry, his tongue moves often enough to make speech impossible.
He delves deeper still, until I can scarcely maintain a thought. His facial hair has begun to grow in again and scrapes delightfully between my thighs. But as soon as I become aware of it, his tongue moves inside my sex, and renders me incapable of commenting on the matter if I wished to.
It is a strange position, but the way my body responds is even more peculiar. My bones grow stiff, yet it feels most delicious indeed. At the start, I swallowed nearly every gasp, but now I set them free, unable to trouble myself with disguising them. The feelings he creates within me are terrifying and exquisite, for I have never been so overcome.
There is a tension building within me—a tension I do not understand, that I cannot help but fear. I try to stop His Grace, but I cannot find my voice except to gasp and moan my pleasure. His tongue flicks my precious bud, and another moan spills from my lips.
“Please,” I rasp, though I cannot name my desire.
My lord husband does not pause to inquire. He continues his ministrations, one hand on each of my legs, keeping me parted for his entrance. His tongue moves faster, then faster still until my hips rock back and forth. The genteel part of me that is aware of this is scandalized, but the remainder floats toward the heavens and cannot be troubled with what happens down below.
“Ooh! My Lord!”
His tongue quickens, and as it moves inside me, it becomes a lash I cannot escape. He whips my sex with his tongue, and heaven save me, I can do naught but writhe under the delicious torment.
“Oh! Your Grace! Your Grace, if you do not stop, I shall?—”
He pauses his furious lashing to utter a single word. “Good.”
His voice is so full of authority, when he resumes his strokes with his tongue, I fall apart, exactly as he meant me to.
I scream as I never have before. I shout with abandon as pure, delicious rapture consumes me. Then the world goes black and soft and still.
I am unaware of how much time passes before I come to. Only that when my eyelids flutter open, I become aware of my head on the bed of pillows as I curl into my lord husband.
Turning my head, I see that he is not sleeping. He is, in fact, watching me with a soft, loving gaze.
I blush and curl in nearer to hide my face.
“Did you enjoy that, my lady?”
“Y-yes, Your G—” I stop and sit up, realizing something else. “You…you removed your tunic.” My eyes rake his body, and my hand flies to my mouth—but too late to conceal my surprise. “Allyour clothes, in fact.”
His mouth curves. “Indeed, I did.”
I drop my hand back to the bed and huff.
“What is it, pet? I thought you well satisfied—do not look so petulant.”
I scowl at the duke, though it does nothing to stop the amusement that plays along his features. “Iwanted to do it.”
“Careful now.” His silken tone does not disguise the warning in his tone. “I would wish the rest of our time to be about pleasure. But if I must chastise you, do not doubt I shall give the matter my utmost attention.”
A shiver seizes me, and my tender hindquarters ache. “Forgive me, my lord. I only meant…I should have liked to…” I stop short, unsure of how to address the matter.
“You need not be shy or genteel with me, wife.” The duke reaches for me and pulls me down beside him. “What is it you wish?”
“I… I would like to… remove your clothing… when we next, ah… express our love.”
