Chapter 260: Chapter Two Hundred And Sixty (Smut)
"E...Eric, wait... not here." Delia’s voice was a soft whisper against his skin. She felt trapped in the best way possible. Eric was completely lost in the moment, his lips moving from her jaw down to the sensitive curve of her neck. The study felt too open, too public, even though they were alone. Books on the bookshelf seemed to watch them.
Eric said something she could not understand. His voice was a low rumble, muffled by the passionate kisses he was placing on her neck. His hands held her waist firmly, pulling her closer to him against the couch.
"Let’s go to your room," she said, her breath catching. Her own desire was rising fast, but the shyness of being seen was stronger. She gently took his face between her hands, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. She lifted her head and gave him a soft, quick kiss on his nose. "Please, Eric."
Seeing the shyness in her eyes, he pulled back slightly. His own eyes were dark with need, his breathing heavy. He nodded slowly, not trusting his voice.
Delia slipped away from his embrace. A small, encouraging smile touched her lips as she took his hand. His fingers immediately intertwined with hers, holding on tightly as if he was afraid she might disappear. She led him out of the quiet study, their footsteps silent on the thick rug in the hallway.
They reached the door to his small bedchamber. It was a familiar path, one they had not walked together in a long time. As she turned the handle and pushed the heavy door open, she intended to follow him in and then close it behind them. But Eric had other plans.
Before she could step fully into the room, he closed the small gap between them. Her back was suddenly pressed against his chest. His arm reached around her, his hand covering hers on the doorknob. Together, they pushed the door shut. The loud click of the latch echoed in the suddenly silent room. It felt final.
Delia gasped softly. Before she could say a word, he spun her around to face him. His mouth found hers in a desperate, hungry kiss right there by the door. All her thoughts of taking things slowly vanished. She kissed him back with equal fire, her hands finding their way up his chest and around his neck.
They moved as one, a clumsy dance fueled by days of pent-up longing. Her back eventually hit the cool wood of the door, and a small sound of surprise escaped her lips into his. His hands were not still for a moment. One hand slid under the fabric of her dress, his fingers finding the smooth silk of her stocking high on her thigh. Delia shivered at his touch. His fingers slowly, deliberately, began to roll the stocking down her leg.
She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck as the kiss grew deeper, more intense. He explored her mouth with his tongue, and she met him with her own. His free hand traveled higher under her dress, his palm warm against her skin. When his fingers brushed against the damp fabric of her undergarments, a soft moan escaped her throat and was lost in his mouth. He took that as an invitation, hooking his hand around her thigh and lifting her leg to wrap around his waist.
"Eric...Hngh...hold on," Delia managed to say, her words broken by the intensity of their kiss.
Eric finally broke away, resting his forehead against hers. They were both breathing hard, trying to catch their breath. "I have been holding on for quite a while, Delia," he spoke, his voice rough and low. It was filled with a raw emotion that made her heart ache. "A very long while."
He looked directly into her eyes, and she saw the pain and longing he had kept hidden for so long. She remained silent, her gaze locked with his, unable to find any words.
Eric continued, his voice softer now but still strained. "Do you know what torture I went through? Every time I see you, I have to pretend I don’t want you. Every night, I dream of you in my arms again, just like this." He paused, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. "Please," he whispered. "Don’t ask me to restrain myself again. Not tonight."
Without waiting for an answer, he bent down and scooped her into his arms. Delia wrapped her legs around his waist and buried her face in his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. He carried her across the room to the large, four-poster bed and gently laid her down on the soft covers. He positioned himself over her, his weight a comforting presence.
Just as his lips were about to find hers again, a polite but firm knock came from the bedroom door.
"Your Grace?" a man’s voice called out. "It’s Doctor Paul. Her Grace requested my services not too long ago."
There was a sudden, heavy silence in the room. Inside, Eric froze, his body tense. He slowly lifted his head, a look of pure annoyance on his face. He glanced at the door, then back down at Delia. A low growl rumbled in his chest. Doctor Paul, outside the door, was confused. He was certain he had heard voices. He was sure the Duke was here.
Eric ignored the man outside. He lowered his head and kissed the side of Delia’s neck, his fingers moving to the laces at the front of her bodice. He began to untie them, his movements quick and efficient.
"May I come in, Your Grace?" Doctor Paul asked again, his voice now holding a note of concern.
"How annoying," Eric muttered under his breath, his eyes fixed on the task of unlacing her dress. He pulled the fabric apart, revealing the thin white chemise she wore underneath. He looked into her eyes, his own gaze intense. "Delia, are you going to let him interrupt us this way? Because even if you are, I’m not."
Before she could answer, he leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth through the thin fabric of her chemise. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, and her back arched off the bed. The feeling was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through her.
"Are you unwell, Your Grace?" Paul asked from the other side of the door, his voice now filled with worry. He had heard her gasp.
Delia’s mind was spinning. Eric’s mouth was creating sensations that made it hard to think. Before she knew what was happening, Eric’s mouth moved lower, kissing its way down her stomach. He pushed aside her chemise and moved to her very center.
She closed her eyes, trying to form a coherent thought. She had to send the doctor away. Using the last bit of her strength and control, she managed to breathe the words out.
"Your service is no longer needed, D...Doctor Paul," she said, her voice strained and shaky. "I’m taking good care of His Grace. If anything happens, I will notify you immediately."
She prayed he would believe her. Her body was starting to convulse from the pent-up pleasure Eric was so expertly building within her.
There was a pause. Then, the doctor replied, "As you wish, Your Grace." Delia heard his footsteps walking away from the door, growing fainter until they disappeared completely.
A wave of relief washed over her. They were alone again. She let out a long, shuddering breath and tangled her hands in Eric’s thick hair, instinctively pushing him deeper, closer. Soft moans filled the quiet room, the only sounds besides their heavy breathing.
After a moment, he stopped and moved away from her. He quickly undressed, his eyes never leaving hers. Seeing him, Delia sat up and pulled the rest of her chemise over her head, letting it fall to the floor.
They were both bare, their bodies exposed in the dim light of the room.
He came back to her on the bed, lying on top of her again. This time, there was no rush. He worshipped her body slowly with his hands and his mouth, taking his time. He wanted to memorize every curve, every soft part of her. He gently caressed her face as he slowly inserted himself inside her.
Delia shut her eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling of being completely joined with him again. It felt like coming home.
"Look at me, Delia," he said, his voice husky. He moved with a slow, steady rhythm. "Look at your husband." With every deep thrust, he repeated his plea. "Look at me."
She opened her eyes and met his intense gaze. She saw love, possession, and a hint of desperation there.
"You chose me this time," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I will never let you get away from me again."
The pleasure was becoming too much for Delia to handle. It was building inside her, a powerful wave threatening to crash.
"Eric... Please," she pleaded, her voice sounding like a whisper. "I’m on the edge."
As Eric was distracted by her words, she used the moment to shift her weight. In one smooth motion, she came on top of him, straddling his hips. She took control, continuing the rhythm, bouncing up and down as Eric’s hands found her waist to hold her in place. A surprised but pleased look crossed his face.
He looked up at her, his eyes half-closed in pleasure. "How much do you love me, Delia?" he asked, his voice low and serious.
Delia leaned down, her hair falling around them like a curtain. She looked deep into his eyes and replied without hesitation, "A lot."
Eric threw his head back on the pillow and let out a soft groan. A smile touched his lips. "You are going to be the death of me someday, Delia Ellington," he said, using her maiden name like he used to when they were young.
Together, they rode the wave of passion, moving as one body, one soul. The world outside the room ceased to exist. There was only the two of them, finally reunited, until their shared pleasure overtook them both in a final, shuddering release.