Bite Me, Your Grace

His harsh indrawn breath at the sight of her breasts curving up from the gown was a most worthy reward for her patience. When the lights dimmed, he reached for her and began to slowly trail his fingers up and down her gloved arm. The alternating sensations of his touch on her bare skin, then through the satin of her gloves, brought her to the brink of madness. She fought to keep her attention on the stage and lost the battle when his hand dropped to her thigh. The warmth of his palm through the thin fabric of her dress made her shudder with frustrated desire.

 

Boldly, she placed her hand on his leg, caressing the hard muscles of his thigh, reveling in the heat of him radiating through her gloves. She had to bite her lip harder to keep an excited gasp from escaping when her knuckles brushed his erection, straining through his black trousers.

 

Ian leaned over, his lips caressing her ear as he whispered, “Are you trying to seduce me, duchess?”

 

“Perhaps,” she whispered, her voice ragged with arousal.

 

They left before the second act. The moment the carriage door closed, Ian pulled Angelica onto his lap and claimed her lips in a devouring kiss. She moaned and ground her hips against his as she pulled his hair free from its tie. She reveled like a starving woman in the feel of his mouth on hers, and it was all she could do not to let him ravage her before they arrived home.

 

When the carriage stopped, he swung her into his arms and rushed her up the stairs before the servants could manage full bows or curtsies. Over his shoulder she could see Liza’s knowing smile before the bedchamber door closed.

 

Angelica grasped the lapels of Ian’s jacket, ready to tear it in her eagerness to feel his bare skin against hers. He grasped her arms and turned her around to unfasten her gown.

 

“You have not finished seducing me yet,” he whispered, his breath blowing on the back of her neck.

 

When she was clad in only her black silk stockings with their scarlet garters and her ruby necklace, he sat on the bed, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Now, walk about for me.” He threw off his waistcoat and unfastened his cravat.

 

Angelica felt deliciously wicked as she strutted and posed for him until his restraint collapsed and he pulled her to the bed to straddle him. She reached forward and unbuttoned his shirt, licking her lips as his muscled chest was revealed. He lifted her one moment to unfasten his breeches, and in the next, his hard velvet heat was sliding deep inside her.

 

It had been so long and she was so starved for him that she nearly climaxed the second he entered her. She moaned her pleasure as his entire length seemed to swell inside her sheath. When he cupped her rear and moved her faster up and down his shaft, she lost control and screamed and bucked her hips as she rode wave after wave of the orgasm.

 

He then picked her up and turned her over so she was on her hands and knees on the bed. He grasped her hips and thrust inside her hard. One hand reached down to caress the bud at the apex of her cleft, while the other held her by the hip as he pounded inside her, as he took her like a ravening beast. The mating was primal, and her climax seemed to shake the world. Moments later, he growled his pleasure.

 

She couldn’t believe it when, before she could catch her breath, he was pulling her into his arms once more. He held her as if he would never release her.

 

“I love you, Angel,” he whispered before kissing her. Moments later, his embrace grew more heated.

 

“Again?” she asked in awe.

 

“Yes,” he whispered, kissing her throat.

 

“But I have to rise early for the King’s coronation tomorrow. If I do not—” She was silenced as his lips covered hers once more.

 

***

 

Angelica hid a yawn behind her fan as she followed the royal procession through the streets to Westminster Abbey. She and Ian had stayed up until dawn making love. Though attending a royal coronation was deemed a great honor for her as a duchess, part of her was longing for bed.

 

Still, she had to admit that the King was an arresting figure in his opulent robes of state and twenty-seven-foot train carried by pages. His face was florid from the July heat and thick robes, and he was sweating profusely. Angelica sympathized with him. She was garbed in dark blue with an ermine-trimmed cape, as befitting a duchess. Ermine, she decided, was not a good choice for summer.

 

To further compound matters, she was required to wear her coronet. Though the headpiece was an exquisite creation wrought of gold and adorned with strawberry leaves encrusted with rubies, the sun heated the metal so that it burned her scalp. When they arrived on the awning-covered pavilion, she sighed in relief to be in the meager shade.

 

Once the procession reached the Abbey, with the Archbishop droning on, Angelica took her seat in the gallery next to the Duchess of Wentworth, one of the few women who had maintained her friendship.

 

“What an exciting event!” Jane whispered, green eyes twinkling.

 

Angelica nodded and tried to fan the beads of sweat from her forehead. “Yes, it is very…” She waved a hand at the ostentatious display below, at a loss for words. If only Ian could see this!

 

Her Grace laughed. “I heard it cost 243,000 pounds.” At Angelica’s stunned look, she added, “His father’s only cost ten thousand, to put this scene into perspective.”