Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 168 - Hundred And Sixty Eight

The room was now filled with the heavy, sweet scent of sunflower oil.

Ines loved how she was feeling. Her body felt like it was floating. The tension from the long carriage ride, the stress of the wedding, and the fear of meeting the new aunt—all of it was melting away under Carcel’s hands.

His thumbs moved in slow, hypnotic circles over the upper swell of her chest. The oil made his skin glide over hers without friction. It was warm. It was soothing. It was exactly what she needed.

Ines let out a long, contented sigh. Her eyes were closed. Her breathing was deep and even. She was drifting in that lovely space between being awake and being asleep.

"You are very good at this," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "You missed your calling as a doctor."

Carcel didn’t answer immediately. He watched her face. He watched the way her eyelashes rested against her cheek. He watched her lips part slightly as she relaxed.

He looked at his hands on her skin. The white cotton of her chemise was becoming translucent where the oil had soaked through. He could see the rosy color of her skin underneath.

He felt a shift inside him.

The protective instinct—the need to comfort her and heal her—was slowly being replaced by something else. Something hotter. Something darker.

He was her husband. This was their bedroom. And she looked incredibly beautiful, vulnerable, and trusting.

Carcel smiled.

It wasn’t the gentle, reassuring smile he had worn earlier. It was different. The corners of his mouth curled up slowly. His eyes darkened, losing their soft light and gaining a sharp, hungry edge.

A wicked grin spread across his face.

He stopped moving his hands in wide, soothing circles. His movements changed. They became smaller. More focused.

His thumbs slid inward. They moved away from the safe territory of her collarbone and upper chest. They glided over the thin, oiled cotton until they found the center of her breasts.

He didn’t rub. He didn’t soothe.

He pinched.

It wasn’t painful, but it was sharp. His fingers closed around her nipples through the fabric, squeezing with a deliberate, teasing pressure.

Ines opened her eyes quickly.

Her eyelids flew up. The dreamy haze vanished instantly. She gasped, her back arching slightly off the mattress.

She looked down at her chest. She saw his large, oil-slicked hands holding her intimately.

She looked up at his face.

"Uhmm, Carcel?" Ines asked. Her voice was higher than usual. It trembled.

She tried to sound stern. She tried to sound like the sensible Duchess.

"Your hand seems to be doing the wrong thing," she stated.

Carcel didn’t stop. He rolled the sensitive peaks between his thumb and forefinger.

He looked up at her, blinking innocently. He pretended like he didn’t know what he was doing.

He turned his head left, then right. He looked around the room, scanning the velvet curtains, the fireplace, and the ceiling, as if he were searching for a fly that was buzzing.

"Is it?" Carcel asked casually. "I thought I was administering a remedy. The book said to be thorough."

Ines stared at him. His expression was a mask of pure innocence, but his eyes were dancing with mischief.

"The book did not say that," Ines argued breathlessly.

She tried to push his hands away, but her arms felt heavy, and honestly, she didn’t push very hard. The sensation was sending lightning bolts straight to her stomach.

"Don’t pretend you don’t know," Ines scolded. Her face was flushing pink, matching the roses in the garden outside. "You are obviously... obviously..."

She tried to find the word. Teasing? Seducing? Playing?

But then, he twisted his fingers slightly, adding a little more pressure.

"Hnng..."

The word died in her throat, replaced by a low, helpless moan. Her head fell back against the pillow. She bit her lip to stop another sound from escaping.

Carcel watched her reaction. His grin widened. He leaned forward, moving his body up the bed until he was looming over her.

He lowered his head. His dark hair brushed against her cheek.

"What are you trying to say, Ines?" he whispered.

His voice was like velvet. His lips brushed her ear, sending a fresh shiver down her spine.

"You seem to be having trouble with your vocabulary," he teased. "Usually, you have so many words."

Ines shivered. His breath was hot against her skin.

"I am trying to say," Ines gasped, "that if you do that..."

She paused, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. It was hard to think when his hands were so busy.

"If I do that?" Carcel prompted.

He pulled back slightly to look at her.

"What happens if I do this?"

He moved his hands. He didn’t stay outside the fabric anymore.

He reached for the neckline of her chemise. With a slow, deliberate movement, he pulled the fabric down.

He brought out her breasts from the chemise.

The cool air of the room hit her skin for a second, only to be replaced instantly by the heat of his hands. He cupped her bare skin.

The oil made them shine in the afternoon light.

He began to knead them. His hands were large and masterful. He molded her flesh, lifting and squeezing with a possessive rhythm.

Ines let out a sharp intake of air. Her hands flew up to grip his shoulders. She dug her fingers into his shirt.

"Carcel," she breathed.

She looked at him. There was no more pretense. Her eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide. Her lips were parted.

Ines replied, already aroused, "I get, mmm... ummm... excited."

The confession hung in the air between them.

Carcel stopped kneading. He looked into her eyes. The wicked grin softened into something more intense, something raw and honest.

He focused his attention again. He looked down. He used his oiled thumbs to circle her nipples again, watching them harden under his touch.

"That’s precisely why I’m touching you here, my dear wife," he said.