The Wicked Confessions of Lady Cecelia Stanton Read Online Free Page A

closed, I looked down at my tray. The ornate silver platter displayed sliced fruit, tea and bread. I had little appetite. My body, unaccustomed to the ravages of conjugal duties, was uncomfortable and I seemed to be plagued by a dull pulsing from my most intimate place.
    I picked at the fruit a nibbled at the buttered bread. The latter, I found particularly pleasing so consumed it all.
    It was just as I finished my cup of tea that there was a knock on my door.
    ‘Yes?’ I called leaning to my left and placing the tray on the small bedside table.
    The door opened and I found myself greeted by my husband’s mischievous smile.
    ‘Good morning, my dear. I hope you find breakfast to your liking.’
    I inclined my head. ‘Good morning. I do.’
    He hesitated and closed the door behind him, his smile faltered very briefly. ‘My dear,’ he began and walked towards me. ‘I come this morning to, ah…’ He paused and rubbed his chin in a gesture of awkwardness. ‘To see how you have faired after the events in this room last night.’
    To say I was surprised by this enquiry would be an understatement. My husband is a known rake, and yet to show such consideration for my wellbeing left me feeling absurdly touched. ‘I am tender,’ I responded. ‘As any maiden would be after her wedding night.’
    ‘Quite,’ he agreed, and I dare say I saw a blush stain his shaven cheeks.
    Perhaps it is absurd, but it was this that first began to endear him to me. I started to wonder if he was not quite the scoundrel many have taken him for.
    I hesitated then. ‘Is there any more you wish of me?’
    He laughed then, and threw his head back. His teeth flashed white in the sunlight from the open curtains. ‘My sweet, there is very much more I wish of you.’
    It was my turn to blush and he stepped closer to the bed, sinking down on the soft mattress beside me.
    My heart hammered and my breasts tightened beneath my nightdress. His eyes traced the lines of my throat and lingered at the hollow there. His gaze had weight. My breath caught in my throat and I swallowed, my throat dry with fear or anticipation or a blend of both.
    ‘With your permission, may I?’ he asked.
    I had thoughts of how improper it was to partake in the conjugal act with the sun bright in the sky. It was unseemly, wicked even, yet the look in my husband’s eyes told me it was also very much wanted.
    I nodded and he bent forwards to kiss me.
    I knew kissing as something generally reserved for cheeks, and formal occasions, but William’s kiss was neither.
    His lips met mine. They were warm, and he smelled like the tea he’d clearly just consumed. He pressed in and urged my mouth open. I heard my own gasp of surprise and a reciprocal chuckle echo within William’s chest. The sensation was exquisite. The deep coiling presence that Bess’s fingers had managed to elicit between my legs with her fingers was miraculously reignited by my husband’s mouth upon mine.
    He pulled away, and smiled at me – a devilish smile that tugged at the corners of his moistened mouth.
    ‘I sense my wife likes to be kissed.’
    ‘She does,’ I agreed, and this time I dared to bring a hand up and stroke his sun-bronzed cheek with my hand. I loved the touch of his roughened cheek, such a contrast to the softness of Bess. Where she was day, he was night.
    He sighed, and closed his eyes, clearly relishing my touch.
    I let my hand fall to the bed, and his eyes opened. I believe it was all the invitation my husband required. Without further preamble, he moved atop me, pushing aside the blankets with careless enthusiasm.
    I was held immobile then, by his weight and a sudden paroxysm of fear.
    William’s eyes caught mine. ‘This act will not cause you much discomfort, I pray,’ he said. ‘You have been broken in, and your maidenhead can tear but once.’
    I hoped his words were true, and that the terrible consuming pain of our initial conjugal act would not be repeated. Yet my nether region