Page 136 of Dukes for Dessert

When she began to writhe, to seek escape, the pressure of his finger lifted but did not leave her. He let her down slowly, bringing her back from the brink and allowing her to float upon the smaller waves as they pushed her back toward the shore.

When she returned to herself, bedraggled and half-drowned, Veronica realized that Sebastian had kept his word. He’d not touched her with aught but his mouth and one finger.

One magical, maniacal finger.

She, however, had attached herself to the thick column of his body as if he were the only thing keeping her from being swept away and lost.

Realizing that she was clinging to him like a ridiculous ninny, she disentangled herself from him, suddenly tentative and shy.

His arms moved, as if to hold her in place, but he stopped short of touching her.

“My God.” If she had to ascribe a word to his tone, it would be marvel. “I’ve been to every place claiming to be a wonder in this world. I’ve handled treasure you wouldn’t believe existed. I’ve toured galleries and museums with the greats, names you would expire to hear. And never in this lifetime have I witnessed anything so beautiful as your body arched in climax.”

A strangled giggle escaped her, and she placed a hand on his chest to halt the kiss he intended for her lips. “You needn’t flatter me,” she assured him.

He made a wry sound. “I have never flattered you, Countess. Were I a sculptor, I’d recreate it so you could agree with me. But, alas, I was born without talent in that regard.”

She couldn’t be so certain of that. She’d been nothing more than a boneless, shapeless heap in his hands, and with untold skill he’d…

Well, he’d transformed her.

The realization was a bitter one. She didn’t want something so irrelevant to him as a passing tryst in a dusty cargo car to be a formative moment in her life.

But here she was, adrift in a storm of her own making.

Up until now, her entire existence had been about what she could do for others. How she appeared to them. She’d been so aware of her every movement, what her features conveyed, how to modulate her voice and moderate her words in just such a way. She’d been the creation of her social-climbing parents, her finishing school, the rigorous life of a countess, and ultimately the quick temper and heavy fists of her husband.

For one surreal encounter, Sebastian Moncrieff had stolen that capability.

No, she was being unfair.

He’d relieved her of that obligation. Had converted her into a creature of need and hunger and unfettered pleasure. A pleasure he’d offered. Gifted. Without so much as a whisper of quid pro quo.

What kind of man did such a thing? Here she thought she had his measure. That she’d peeked into his empty heart and found it beat only at his pleasure.

Was there more to the Erstwhile Earl than even he realized?

Pulling back, she arched her neck to look up at him.

The taut mien of his skin pulled across hungry bones made him look older and even more dangerous. His gaze was feral and greedy, his jaw hard.

When his lips parted, fear lanced through her, turning her pulse to thunder.

The Devil was about to demand his due. What would he do to her if she refused?

“Let me use my mouth. I could coax another from you if you’d let me.”

She blinked. Once. Again. Uncertain she heard him correctly. He wanted to give her another climax. With his mouth?

Unbidden, her eyes traversed the length of his body to find the barrel of his erection straining the front of his trousers.

Lord but he was large.

“Don’t.” The snarl rumbled from deeper in his chest than she dared to venture. “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t touch me or I—” He cut off, taking a long moment to compose himself. “Just let me taste you?”

“I can’t.” Her tight throat worked over a swallow. “I can’t right now.”

“Oh, trust me, Countess, you can.”

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