"Kneel before me," he said softly.

"What?" Her voice was surprised.

"Kneel before me," he said, and when she complied with his request he took his manhood in his hand and rubbed it gently across her lips. "You can use your tongue on it, or suck on it," he told her.

Aurora's heart was beating wildly. There was something so exciting about the forbidden, and this was certainly a forbidden thing. She touched him with just the tip of her tongue. He said nothing. Emboldened, she licked vigorously about the ruby tip of him, and when he removed his hand she bent her head slightly and licked the length of him several times. Then, unable to help herself, she opened her mouth and took him into it, her tongue working fiercely as her own excitement level rose with each passing second. He was warm and hard, and smooth. The taste of him was musky and salty. She sucked on him, and felt his fingers kneading her head, encouraging her, and then he grated at her to cease, and when she could not seem to stop, he pulled her away, yanking her up to face him once again.

"Would you swallow me whole, my precious?" he demanded.

"Yes!" she said, her eyes bright with her desire.

He laughed, amazed at her capacity for lust. "Turnabout is but fair play, Aurora," he told her. "Let me show you." Taking her by the hand, he drew her over to the bed, sitting her down so that her legs were hanging over. "Lay back," he said, and when she had, he knelt and slowly drew her legs down and over his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" she cried out nervously.

He did not answer her, instead burying his face in the soft nest of curls and kissing her plump, warm mound. She did not protest, instead sighing with obvious pleasure. He then parted her nether lips with his two thumbs and touched her little pleasure button with just the tip of his tongue. He heard her draw a sharp breath, and smiled to himself. With his whole tongue he slowly licked the coral walls of her love grotto, pushing his tongue into her channel, withdrawing it to return to her pleasure button, which he then began to sweetly torture.

Aurora could not restrain herself, and she moaned with open enjoyment. "Ohhhh, Valerian, that is absolutely wicked. Don't stop. I beg you! Please, don't stop! I shall die of delight! Oh! Oh! Oh!"

Her love juices began to flow, and he lapped them up eagerly. "So you like it, you little wanton," he growled at her, and then he was mounting her and pushing himself into her. "Do you like this too, my precious?" He thrust hard, and she half sobbed, "Yes!" and hearing her, he began a fierce rhythm, thrusting and withdrawing, thrusting and withdrawing, until her head was thrashing wildly. "Put your legs about me," he said in a deep tone, and when she obeyed he was able to push deeper into her hot, wet sheath.

She could feel him inside her, throbbing and pulsing. He was such a fierce but tender lover, and she wanted him to go on forever. "Don't stop," she begged him. "Don't stop!" Her nails began to rake down his back as the pleasure overtook her. He groaned against her mouth, his tongue, ripe with her musk, arousing her as she had never before been aroused. Her body had joined him in the primitive passion, pushing up to meet his downward thrust. Her legs were wrapped tightly about his torso. I am going to die, she thought as she felt herself beginning to soar and spin out of control. Stars and moons were exploding in her head, and the pleasure was tearing her apart. She cried aloud.

He didn't want to stop. She was the most exciting woman he had ever known. He desired her above all women. He wanted her so badly that even in the act of possessing her his loins yet ached with longing. He was on the brink of death, and he didn't care. It was worth it. It had all been worth it just to possess that incredible creature who was his wife. He was falling into darkest space, and yet he could feel his manhood erupting its juices to flood her secret garden with life. He collapsed.

Together they lay gasping, struggling for breath, and when at last they had managed to quiet their raging hearts, Valerian Hawkesworth gathered Aurora into his arms, weakly drew the coverlet over them, and they slept.

They were awakened by a discreet knocking at the door, and heard Browne's voice calling. "My lord. My lord."

"Yes, what is it?" the duke asked sleepily.

"It is after nine o'clock, my lord. Will you and her ladyship be wanting supper before the staff retires?" the valet said.

"Bring a tray, whatever is available, and champagne too," Valerian Hawkesworth responded. "You may leave it outside the door, Browne. Just knock to let us know it's there."

"Yes, my lord." They heard the retreating footsteps.

"Do you think the servants are shocked?" Aurora wondered.

"Probably not," he said. "Why should they be? It is our wedding night, after all, and you, my dear duchess, are absolutely delicious!" He kissed her a deep, slow kiss. "I think we might manage it more than twice tonight, my precious. Would you like that?"

She grinned at him mischievously. "I believe that you are utterly insatiable, my lord," she teased.

"As are you, madam," he agreed calmly, and bending, nibbled at her ear. "You must be satisfied with me, however, Aurora. I will not countenance your taking lovers, as do so many fashionable women."

"Good God, Valerian, what do you take me for? Why on earth would I want a lover? I was not raised to be loose. A woman cleaves to her husband, unless, of course, he turns out to be an utter cad, in which case she poisons him quickly and becomes a merry widow," she finished with a wicked smile. Then she took his hand, and separating his fingers, began to suck them slowly, one by one. Her tongue rotated in leisurely fashion about each digit, and then she would draw upon the finger so strongly that he thought she might devour it.

"Fashionable women," he murmured, bending to nuzzle in the cleft between her two round little breasts, "take and discard lovers with little thought, as do their husbands. Had Calandra not been so coldhearted, I believe she would have followed the fashion quite willingly."

"I am not my sister, as you have already discovered," Aurora said, "and I have no need for another man in my bed as long as you are so attentive. You had best not take a mistress, my lord. Besides, if I never see London again, it will be too soon. I love living at Hawkes Hill, and I shall be most happy to remain here for the rest of my life." Finished playing with his fingers, she nipped at his knuckles.

With startling swiftness he pinioned her beneath him and kissed her until she was quite breathless and laughing. "Wanton witch," he accused her, but he was smiling.

She felt him already roused against her thigh, and said, "You are impatient, Valerian. I did not expect such passion from you."

"I cannot wait, my precious," he apologized, pushing himself into her wet, hot sheath. "Will you forgive me?" He began to move on her.

"Ummmmmmm," she replied, and she wrapped her legs about his torso once again. "Make me fly again, Valerian, and I will excuse this unseemly haste and your lack of finesse. Oh! Oh! Yessssss!"

"Little bitch," he groaned against her mouth. "I cannot get enough of you, I cannot!"

He was a sorcerer, she thought as she began to lose control of herself once more. His touch inflamed. His hard body excited her more than anything else she had ever known. Take a lover? Dear heaven, what other man could please her so greatly? Could reach so deeply into her heart and soul that she was overwhelmed with a plethora of emotions she hardly understood, and which threatened to overwhelm her. She would never take a lover. Husbands could be such fools, she considered as she soared from the pinnacle once more. "Ahhhhhhhh, my darling!" she cried.

He lay atop her, drained and gasping for breath. Her sweetness and her intense passion would certainly be the death of him. The elusive fragrance that was Aurora assailed him, and he sighed with pleasure. Mistress, indeed! She had, in a day's time, spoiled him for all other women forever. She shifted beneath him, and immediately he rolled off her. "I think I may kill you," he said low, "for all the time you cost us with your stubborn nature, my precious." He took her hand and squeezed it hard. "I think I fell in love with you the day I saw you coming from the sea, but I put it from me. Then, when you arrived in England, I was tortured by the thought you would wed another and I could not have you. And when you chose St. John, I wanted to kill him!"

"Hush, Valerian." She leaned over him, stopping his mouth with her own for a moment. Then she continued. "I can never forget that my selfishness caused Cally great unhappiness, and cost her her life. I must live with that the rest of my life even as I experience the joy of loving you. It seems so unfair that I should be happy and poor Cally will never know happiness."

"Then you love me as I love you?" he said, his voice breaking.

"Of course I love you, you fool," she replied. "When I would daydream, it was your face I saw, and never St. John's. I did not understand it until now, but I realize that I was in love with you although I could not admit it for fear of being disloyal to my sister. After all, it was not right that I love Cally's husband, Valerian, but I may certainly love my own husband, may I not?"

There was a discreet knock upon the bedchamber door, and Browne's voice said softly but distinctly, "Supper is served, your grace." Then they heard him retreating down the hallway.