Wedding Her Christmas Duke: A Regency Romance
Page 11
He’d envisioned her naked hundreds of times.
By candle or firelight.
In the daytime.
As dawn crested the horizon or as twilight descended.
She flicked a wary glance to the windows, the draperies parted, allowing the first rays of sunshine to filter into the room. “Um, shouldn’t we close the draperies?”
Baxter chuckled and shook his head as he removed her shoes and then her stockings, kissing and nipping his way up each hopelessly satiny thigh.
Little sensuous gasps, sighs, and moans accompanied the journey.
“Never. I want to see ye in the daylight, to memorize each luscious curve and swell of yer beautiful body.” His gaze drifted to her breasts, and he reached out, cupping them with both hands. His palms didn’t begin to contain their bounty. “God, how I want ye. To taste every inch of ye. To take yer glorious breasts into my mouth and to suckle ye.”
His mouth watered in anticipation as he squeezed the abundant mounds gently, then moved to lightly pinch her hardened peaks.
She hissed between her teeth. “That feels good.”
“It feels even better, darlin’.”
As Baxter methodically divested Justina of her clothes, worshipping her like a pagan goddess with kisses and nibbles and licks, he inhaled her heady, womanly essence, becoming drunk on the aroma. When at last Justina lay bare before him, he stood and stepped away so he could admire all of her.
She didn’t blush or try to cover herself. Instead, she lay proudly, all of her considerable charms revealed for Baxter’s eyes alone. Abundant breasts taunted him above her sloping torso. Full, rounded hips gave way to long, shapely thighs and calves.
Her skin glowed golden in the mellow light, and his fingers itched to explore every captivating inch of her until she moaned his name and writhed beneath his touch.
His attention returned to the apex of her womanhood, where she’d soon cradle him. Where they’d join and experience bliss together. His bollocks filled with blood, swelling, swelling, swelling until he gritted his teeth against the pleasure-pain.
“Magnificent,” he breathed, and his heavy, aching cocked throbbed its agreement.
Her inquisitive green-eyed gaze roamed over him, a visual caress until she pointedly regarded the towel still at his waist. The minutest frown stitched her sable brows together.
“Is somethin’ wrong, Justina?”
That kissable mouth—Christ, what he could do with that mouth, what he’d teach her to do with that mouth—inched up at the corners coquettishly.
“You are not naked, Your Grace.”
Christ on the blessed cross.
Never had the two words induced such an erotic response. Henceforth, he’d sport a cockstand every time he heard them. Which might be deucedly awkward, but at the moment, he didn’t give ten damns.
With a flick of his thumb, he loosened the linen, and it slithered to the ground.
Her eyes widened as she took in his full, proud length. A slow smile bent her mouth.
“You are magnificent.”
Then she opened her arms, and Baxter needed no further invitation.
She welcomed him into her embrace, eager to learn all that he could teach her. She met his hunger with her own, their moans and harsh breaths mingling together until it was impossible to separate one from the other.
He slid a finger between the slick, warm folds of her sex. “Ye’re ready, sweetheart.”
As he kneeled between her legs, circling the bud of her femininity, she arched her hips upward to meet his caress.
“Baxter. Please. I need…”
“I ken exactly what ye need, love,” he said, positioning himself at her entrance. Capturing her gaze with his, he said, “Dinna look away, lass. Stay with me as I enter ye.”
Trembling with unrestrained need, she nodded and raised her knees, opening to him. “Please,” she moaned.
Their gazes locked, he slid into her tight, hot channel, gritting his teeth against the urge to spurt his seed.
Her mouth parted, her breathing coming in short little pants as he inched farther and farther inside her.
“Yes. Yes. Oh, God! More Baxter. More.”
She pulled frantically on his buttocks, rotating her pelvis into his.
“As ye wish.” He plunged forward, breaking through her maidenhead, until he was fully sheathed, then pulled nearly all of the way out and surged into her again.
Justina writhed beneath him, so overcome with passion, she hadn’t even cried out when he’d taken her virginity. He rocked into her, his body thrumming with the need to find his release.
“Again,” she pleaded, frantically running her hands over his back and buttocks. “Again. Again.”
Baxter happily obliged, carried forward on a tidal wave of lust and love. “Come for me, Justina. Come,” he commanded, peering into her glazed eyes.
And then she flew apart, screaming his name as she convulsed over and over. He shouted her name as he exploded inside her womb, the orgasm so blindingly powerful, lightheadedness engulfed him.
He collapsed atop her, careful not to crush her beneath his weight. He’d enjoyed sex before. Enjoyed it very much. But this… What he’d just shared with his soon-to-be-wife. That had been a connection of their souls.
She opened her eyes and blinked, wonder and astonishment shining in their green depths. “That was…”
“Magnificent,” they both said together before bursting into laughter.
Sometime later, when the sun had risen higher in the sky, and their absences from breakfast were sure to have been noted, he said, “I should like to announce our betrothal today.”
She giggled and snuggled closer. “I shouldn’t be surprised if Aunt Emily hasn’t taken that upon herself, considering she knew I meant to seek you in your chamber, and I’ve not reappeared.”
He couldn’t find it in himself to regret what they’d shared or that in likelihood, Emily Grenville had announced his and Justina’s impending marriage. And what was more, she hadn’t done it to entrap him, but because that wise woman recognized love when she saw it.
Justina rolled onto her side, one satiny leg between his and her abundant breasts mashed to his chest. At once, his manhood jumped to attention, flexing against her soft stomach. She met his gaze, wonderment in hers. “Again? So soon?”
“I believe a verra short betrothal is in order,” he said, rolling her beneath him.
“Uh-hmm,” she agreed throatily. “Very, very short.”
“I’ll send a message to the archbishop tomorrow, requestin’ a special license.”
“That would be wise,” she said, spreading her legs to receive him once more. Justina cupped his face and pressed a long kiss upon his mouth. “I get my wish, after all.”
“Making love in broad daylight?” Baxter waggled his eyebrows as he slid into her.
Arching her back, she gasped. “No. I am to wed my very own Christmas duke.”
“Nae, lass. Ye are marryin’ the man who will adore ye for the rest of our lives.”
About Collette Cameron
USA Today Bestselling, award-winning author COLLETTE CAMERON® scribbles Scottish and Regency historical romance novels featuring dashing rogues, rakes, and scoundrels and the strong heroines who reform them. Blessed with an overactive and witty muse that won’t stop whispering new romantic romps in her ear, she’s lived in Oregon her entire life. Although she dreams of living in Scotland part-time. A confessed Cadbury chocoholic, you’ll always find a dash of inspiration and a pinch of humor in her sweet-to-spicy timeless romances®.
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Thank you for reading WEDDING HER CHRISTMAS DUKE!
I’m always delighted when a reader finishes a book I’ve written. It warms my soul.
For those of you skeptical about love at first sight, such as Justina and Baxter experienced, scientific studies have proven it does exist. And interestingly, many of those who fall in love almost instantly and marry, remain married decades later. I personally know of multiple instances, including myself. My husband asked me to marry him after two weeks, and at the writing of this letter, we’ve been married thirty-seven years.
If you’re curious about some of the other characters you met in WEDDING HER CHRISTMAS DUKE, you can find all of the series that have been written so far on my website. Watch for HOW TO WIN A DUKE’S HEART, Sophronie Slater and Evan Gordonstone, Duke of Waycross’s story and THE DEBUTANTE AND THE DUKE, Rayne Wellbrook and Fletcher McQuinton, Duke of Kincade, romances coming soon. And yes, Aunt Emily does find love. I bet you can guess who her hero is after reading this story.