Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 169 - Hundred and Sixty Nine

Ines lay on the bed, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Her skin felt like it was on fire.

Carcel’s hands were everywhere. They were large, warm, and slick with the golden oil. He moved with a maddening slowness, exploring every inch of her chest, kneading the soft flesh until she felt like she was melting into the mattress.

Ines bit her lip. Her mind was racing, trying to make sense of the sensation.

Is this really just flower oil? Ines thought to herself, her eyes fluttering shut. Edith used to use sunflower oil for dry elbows. It never felt like this. It never felt like liquid lightning.

She arched her back slightly as his thumb brushed over a sensitive nerve.

If it is just oil, she reasoned, it shouldn’t feel this hot. It feels like he is pouring warm honey over me. Or maybe... maybe it is just him.

It had been a month. A long, lonely month of letters and longing. Her body remembered him, and now that he was here, every nerve ending was screaming for his touch.

A low moan bubbled up in her throat. It was loud in the quiet room.

Ines’s eyes flew open. She remembered where she was. Carleton. The house was full of servants. Aunt Rowena was downstairs, probably pacing the hallway, waiting for her tour.

She brought her hand to her mouth to muffle her moans. She bit down on her knuckles, stifling the sound. She couldn’t let anyone hear. It would be scandalous if the maids heard the new Duchess making such noises in the middle of the afternoon.

Carcel noticed her attempt to be quiet. He grinned. He seemed to take it as a challenge.

He moved his hands down.

He gathered the hem of her white cotton chemise. slowly, deliberately, he began to push the fabric up. It slid over her stomach, bunching at her waist. The cool air of the room hit her bare legs for a split second before his hands replaced the chill.

He started moving to her legs.

He poured a little more oil into his palms. He rubbed them together, creating that familiar friction sound. Then, he wrapped his hands around her ankles.

He slid his hands up. Up over her calves. Up over her knees.

He began massaging her thighs.

His thumbs dug into the muscles of her inner thighs. He kneaded the flesh, working out the tension from the carriage ride, but also waking up parts of her that had been asleep.

"Carcel," Ines whispered behind her hand. "We have to be careful."

Carcel didn’t stop. He hummed a low note of acknowledgment, but his focus was entirely on her legs.

"The maids will come in soon," Ines hissed, trying to inject some urgency into her voice. "Or even Aunt Rowena. She said fifteen minutes. How long has it been? Ten?"

She tried to look at the clock on the mantelpiece, but Carcel blocked her view.

"We need to get..." Ines stammered as his hand slipped higher, brushing the sensitive skin of her upper thigh. "... maybe it’s better to finish quickly and then get ready."

It was a practical suggestion. Or at least, she tried to make it sound practical. In reality, she just wanted him to stop teasing and give her what she needed.

Carcel ignored her logic.

His hands moved deeper to her thighs. His fingers grazed the very top of her legs, dangerously close to where she wanted him most. But then, he pulled back. He went back to her knees. Then up again. Then back down.

It was a torture. A sweet, slippery, oily torture.

He was tracing circles on her skin, getting closer and closer to the center of her heat, only to retreat at the last second.

Ines let out a frustrated noise. She couldn’t take it anymore. The passive acceptance of the massage was over.

Ines used her elbows to prop herself up. She glared at him. Her hair was a mess, her body was on fire, and her chemise was ruched up around her waist. She looked like a disheveled angel who had lost her temper.

"Carcel," she said firmly.

He looked up. His eyes were dark pools of desire, but his face still held that playful, wicked expression.

"Yes, my love?" he asked politely.

"You have been teasing my thighs for more than a minute," Ines complained. She kicked her leg slightly, trying to guide his hand. "You go up, you go down. You circle. You are mapping my legs like a cartographer."

Carcel chuckled. "I am just being thorough."

"I don’t need thorough," Ines snapped, though her voice lacked any real bite. "I wish you would just touch me directly. You are right there. Just... move your hand three inches to the left."

Carcel smiled. He stopped his movements, letting his hands rest heavy and warm on her thighs.

"We haven’t done it in a long time," Carcel replied.

He looked at her with a sudden seriousness. The playfulness faded just a little, replaced by an intensity that made Ines’s breath catch.

"I missed you," he admitted. "And because I missed you, I want to make this last. I want to savor it." 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

He squeezed her thighs gently.

"I need to warm you up thoroughly," he explained. "I don’t want to rush. I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to be so ready for me that you forget everything else."

Ines softened for a moment. It was sweet. He was trying to be considerate. He was trying to be romantic. But her body didn’t want romantic. Her body wanted him.

Ines protested. She whined, flopping back onto the pillows. "But if you keep teasing me like this every time... we will never get anything done. We will spend hours just staring at each other."

Carcel leaned forward. He crawled up the bed, moving between her legs. He braced his arms on either side of her head, caging her in.

He looked down at her.

"We won’t have to do it for this long again," Carcel spoke.

He kissed her nose.

"Because from now on," he whispered against her skin, "we’ll do it every day."

Ines’s eyes widened. "Every day?"

"Every morning," Carcel promised. "Every night. Maybe in the afternoon if I can escape all the reports pilling up in my study."

He gave her a mischievous smile.

"So, usually, there will be no need for such a long warm-up. But today... today is special. Today is our homecoming."

He moved back down to her legs. He picked up the bottle of oil again.

Ines groaned. She threw her head back. She didn’t want more oil. She didn’t want more talk about the future.

She pouted. Her lower lip stuck out in a petulant expression that usually made Rowan give her whatever she wanted.

"No need to warm up anymore," Ines argued. She looked him dead in the eye. She decided to be bold. She was a married woman. She was a writer of romance novels. She knew the words.

"I’m already wet enough," she stated plainly.

Carcel froze. The bottle hovered in mid-air. He looked at her, surprised by her bluntness. A flash of heat crossed his face, turning his ears pink.

He cleared his throat. He tried to regain his composure. He tried to maintain the upper hand.

"Not yet," Carcel spoke, his voice dropping an octave. He reached for her again, intending to resume his slow, torturous massage.

Something inside Ines snapped.

The patience she had held onto for two months finally evaporated.

She didn’t even think. She acted. She sat up. She lunged forward.

She placed her hands flat against his bare chest. The oil on his skin made him slippery, but she dug her fingers in.

Ines pushed him on the bed.

"NO!" she shouted.

Carcel was caught off guard. He was balanced precariously on his knees. The force of her shove sent him toppling backward.

He fell onto his back with a startled Oof! The bottle of oil flew from his hand, landing on the thick rug with a soft thud, thankfully unbroken.

Ines didn’t wait. She scrambled over him. She straddled his waist, her chemise bunching around her hips. Her hair fell around her face.

She pinned his wrists to the mattress. She looked down at him, her chest heaving, her eyes blazing with a fierce, demanding fire.

"I WANT IT NOW!" Ines yelled.

Carcel stared up at her. He looked stunned. He looked shocked.

And then, looking at his fierce, beautiful, demanding wife, he looked absolutely delighted.