Page 53 of Duke of Destruction
“Glorious,” he repeated commandingly, soothing the pinched spot with gentle circles that seemed to wipe away her ability to think entirely.
“Yes,” she agreed. She might have agreed to anything he said just then.
But—and perhaps it was part of the lunacy that they’d both found at this strange party—she trusted him not to take advantage. She trusted him enough to let herself go in his presence.
“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” he asked her, stepping forward so that their bodies were notquitetouching, but close enough that Catherine felt she could feel the hum in the air between them, as if each iota of their bodies was straining toward one another.
“Yes,” she said, the admission easy.
He bent his head to press a kiss against her racing pulse. “Do you like it when I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
His hand traced down her ribcage, over the soft swell of her stomach, until it came to rest with a hairsbreadth of distance between his fingers and her core.
“Do you want me to touch you here?” he rasped.
“Yes!” Catherine’s voice broke on the word, the cry breaking free as she momentarily forgot the need for quiet.
No matter—Percy swallowed the sound with a kiss, the press of his free hand on her back pulling their torsos firmly together, skin against skin.
His other hand, though, did not yet make contact with where she needed him most.
“Come on, my sweet,” he cajoled when he finally removed his mouth from hers. “Let me show you.”
And so she did. She let him help her so she did not stumble on her discarded clothes, let him lead her backward through the room, let him steal as many little kisses as he wanted along the way. She let him guide her to the bed and lie her back against the plush coverlet. She let him stand, looking down on her in all her naked glory. She let him spread her legs.
“Fuck, Catherine,” he breathed. “You—I—Fucking hell.”
She laughed. His awe made her absolutely giddy.
“You have quite the mouth on you, do you know that?” she asked him.
The room was dim, but she still saw the idea flicker in his eyes.
“I think I shall have my mouth onyou,if it’s all the same,” he said.
And before she could wonder what he could mean by that, what wicked promise those words held, he sank to his knees, leaned forward, and pressed his mouth to her center.
And then it was her turn to swear.
“Oh God,” she murmured as he moved against her, hot and wet andincredible. “Oh Lord. Oh Christ.”
She couldn’t think of a single thing to say that wasn’t blasphemy, until suddenly she could.
“Percy,” she said. “Percy. Percy.”
She didn’t know if each utterance of his name caused him to redouble his efforts or if completely melting her bones had just been his plan to begin with, but he tended to her with feverish intensity, exploring, probing, then returning to the places that made her breath catch and her legs twitch next to his ears.
The pleasure was so maddening that it almost bordered on discomfort. Her body was chasing something spectacular, but she couldn’t quite find it, and the search made energy swirl inside her like a tempest in a teapot—trapped, furious, and entirely without an outlet.
“More,” she managed, practically sobbing the word in between repetitions of his name. “Percy. More. Please. Percy.”
He could be obliging when he wanted to be, it turned out, difficult man though he was. Without removing his head from its fixed place between her legs, one of his hands came up from where they’d been clutching at her ankles. It slid over her calf, over her knee and thigh, to her middle?—
And then swiftly inside her with nary any resistance at all.
It felt sostrange, this intrusion, and yet Catherine’s body urged her to press more firmly against it. He pumped the finger in and out of her a few times, gently and slowly at first, then with increasing speed.
