“I am breathing,” she said, which was true, if one accepted the shallow, uneven attempts she was making as valiant enough efforts to be recognized.
The amusement in his eyes was insufferable, and if she were in a stronger frame of mind, she might have done something about it.
“You are not. Your knuckles have gone white.”
She looked down, mortified to find that he was right, and released the fabric of his shirt immediately, smoothing it over with her palms in a gesture that was meant to be dignified and nearly whining at how it fell considerably short. He watched her do it with a small, warm smile – not the knowing smirk she had grown accustomed to, but something softer, something that sat oddly in the middle of his usually composed face.
“You are doing beautifully,” he told her. “You are rather natural, when it comes to giving into your desires. I am enjoying this immensely, as I hope you are as well.”
Penelope opened her mouth to tell him she did not need his commentary, but he kissed her again before she could do so.It was growing infuriating, how easily and often he was able to reduce her thoughts to ash, and Penelope did not know what that said about her.
His hands moved with a certainty she envied, settling at her waist and drawing her closer with a gentleness that rather contradicted everything she had previously assumed about him.
He did not rush. Did not push or demand that she give more than she thought she could. He simply held her close and let the kiss deepen by degrees, steady and deliberate, until she felt the tension in her shoulders ease against her will. Despite the comforting pace, there was a knot of heat tightening in her gut, gradually drawing her attention the more he kissed and touched her.
“Come here,” Cecil murmured, and before she knew how it had happened, she was being guided backward, and the cushioned settee at the edge of the candlelight was pressing against the backs of her knees.
“Cecil –”
“I have you,” the duke said quietly. “I promise.”
Something in those three simple words broke the last wall of resistance she had been holding. She allowed herself to be lowered onto the settee on her back, blinking up at him as he knelt on the cushion between her legs, his expression careful and attentive in a way she had never seen on him before.
It was disturbing, the sides of him she had seen in the handful of minutes they had spent together, as opposed to the years they had known each other. Something about how his gaze was fixed on her body since they began told her he was paying close attention to her and her reactions. But she could not fathom why.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” Cecil said softly, reaching out to stroke her cheek with a finger.
It was not a question. It was a reminder, offered quietly, as though he wanted to make very certain she had it.
Penelope nodded, strangely feeling like snapping at him for dawdling when he already had her approval from the moment she had agreed to let him teach her about lust.
“Words, please,” Cecil urged gently.
“I – yes. I understand.” She swallowed. “I will tell you.”
It was rather touching how insistent he was to follow her own rules. She had already lost her own reservations, pursuing the release she hoped all of this touching and kissing would lead to. But Cecil... he seemed concerned about her well-being, almost desperate to make sure she did not regret any of the choices she had made.
He held her gaze a moment longer, something passing through his eyes that she could not name, before his attention droppedaway and his hands – slow and deliberate and warm – moved to the hem of her skirts.
Penelope shifted her gaze to the ceiling and focused on breathing.
This was much different than when it had been just her. Then, she had been fueled by her curiosity, wondering what would be at the end of this strange experiment. She was spurred by how good she felt as well, aching to find the height of the weight tugging at her from within as her fingers rubbed between her legs. Penelope had found it increasingly difficult to remain silent, and it was much worse when the waves of pleasure rocked her entire being.
Cecil had said it would feel better if she had done it with someone else. Back then, it had been tempting, but now, she felt it was a great deal harder than it sounded to trust someone else with her body like this.
Still... she was glad to share this moment with Cecil, not anyone else. Despite her concerns about whether the entire affair was an ideal choice to make or not, he had proven to her that there was nothing to worry about.
Cecil was not careless. That was the thing that surprised her most. She had expected his ministration to be overwhelming, something she would have to brace herself against. An extreme thought had crossed his mind about whether he would rip her clothes off to have his way with her.
Instead, he was methodical and gentle, and he kept speaking to her in a low voice, the words themselves less important than the steadiness of his tone, which remained a constant anchor even as everything else became rather unsteady.
He leaned into her line of sight, waiting until her eyes were on him again before he kissed her, his lips moving over hers in a light, nearly teasing manner. It was as though he was trying to distract her –
Then she felt it. His hands sliding up and down her body, each caress downward getting closer to her hips, where her skirts had been gathered into a bundle, leaving her exposed. Suddenly, she was nervous and a little frightened.
“Hold me, Penelope. If you need a little bit of strength, you can hold onto me,” he whispered, trailing kisses down her jaw, paying extra attention to a spot on her neck.
Penelope nodded, then wrapped her arms around him, a little stunned when she realized the frame she had seen today, half-naked, was even broader than she had believed it was. He was much larger than she initially thought, and rather than feeling daunted, Penelope was struck by how gentle a man of his size was.
