Page 32 of The Untamed Duke
“Shhh.” He cut her confused explanation short.
For a long moment, Nicholas merely stared at her, as if she were a vexing puzzle in need of solving. When Grace thought she might scream from the unbearable tension, he made his decision. Reaching down, he loosened the silk around her ankles and pulled it free.
Then, as she watched, Nicholas put a finger to his mouth, wet it, and slid his hand between her legs. Every nerve in her body migrated, rushing down, down to where he touched her.
He sucked in a shaky breath—his gaze colliding with hers.
A flash of understanding passed between them, wonderment and desire. In a portion of her brain, Grace knew she should be repulsed by his actions, by the way he twisted their bargain, how he used her innocent, bewildered need for his own sexual pleasure. Another portion, a tiny part she never knew existed until now, loved the absolute power he held, how he forced acknowledgment that she wanted him. Indeed, she would allow him anything he wanted.
Now he knew it as well.
"Sweet hell," Nicholas whispered, gliding deeper into her depths, wringing a helpless moan from her. "You are already wet for me." He regarded her as if she were a dangerous creature, newly captured and caged. Her hands twisted in the silk of the cravats. “How you astound me, Grace."
Then she could not contemplate matters of free will or escape. Of control and power. His mouth sweetly searched hers while his hand slid up, cupping the fullness of one breast. Grace whimpered, confused when he no longer touched the center of her body, confused why she hated that his hand was no longer between her legs.
This kiss he gave her was different. This one beseeched as if asking permission. It flitted and danced and teased, and Nicholas was a master at using it. Tracing the corner of her mouth, he pressed kisses along the seam where her lips met, an indiscriminate pattern, coaxing and cajoling, the tip of his tongue darting here and there as he tore her defenses down. A kiss had never moved her so powerfully before. Never had she felt this breathless excitement or gnawing hunger deep in her belly. More. She needed more.
With an unsteady breath, her lips parted, and it was the opening Nicholas sought. His tongue plunged deep, twisting, swirling with hers, meshing together in a heated tangle. A cry caught and held in her lungs as the taste of him, brandy and spice, invaded her. His hand never stopped molding her breast to the shape of his palm. Squeezing, lifting, stroking the fullness, his touch was magical and her body gloried in the manipulations, her flesh swelling into his hands.
With her arms stretched above her head, she could not wiggle away. But she did not wish to. The kissing, the kneading pressure of his fingers, it all created a pleasurable ache. When he encircled the tip of her breast, pinching the nipple between thumb and forefinger, Grace's back bowed off the bed in startled surprise.
Exquisite sensations carrying the white heat of lightning bolts shot through her. How she accepted his caresses while bound to his bed went beyond comprehension. Somehow, her helplessness intensified the pleasure a hundredfold. Maybe she was equally wicked. Maybe she wanted this all along, this magnetic pull tugging her every time he was near. Maybe she’d longed for his touch from the moment he found her in the gazebo.
Nicholas smiled, his mouth nibbling at the fullness of her bottom lip as he broke the kiss. His gaze held hers as his fingers rolled and tugged her nipple until she shook.
"You are so damned beautiful." Shifting his body, he lavished the same wonderful treatment on her other breast. "Your skin is like honeyed cream. So soft, so smooth. Do you know your nipples are perfect berries? God, I've dreamed of tasting them..."
His head bent, taking her in his mouth while pinching the peak of her other breast with wicked fingers.
Grace nearly shrieked from the heat of his mouth. The sensations were too overwhelming, too erotic. Being unable to move made it worse. Or maybe better. She couldn't decide. By the time his head lifted, she was a trembling mess.
"You like that, don't you?" Nicholas murmured, tormenting her. "Tell me, Grace, tell me you like it. It's all right if you admit it. It will be our secret, as will everything else we do."
She shook her head, keeping the words from spilling out how much shedidlike it. Good Lord, she prayed he wouldn’t ever stop.
"Bloody hell, you are stubborn." His head lowered with a ragged sigh. "Our time together will be very interesting."
He drew her nipple into the heat of his mouth once more, catching the hardened bud between his teeth, flicking mercilessly with his tongue until Grace writhed against the silk restraints. The fire was countered by his hands, smoothing the underside of her breasts, stroking the soft skin there like it was the belly of a kitten. Over and over, he moved between the two peaks, never letting up, staying with her, his fingers at first gentle, then twisting with a dark intensity that turned her blood into a molten river.
The difference between the two sensations drove her mad.
"Stop..." Her plea escaped as a gasp.
The cravat burned her wrists as she tugged against them, but the single word was directed at herself. Her treacherous body and the way it responded with glee, to his mouth, his touch, his fingers. Every time Nicholas paused, even for the briefest second, she wanted to scream that he continue.
"Do you really want me to stop, Grace?" His gaze burned her everywhere it drifted. “I am very aware of what women dislike, and I particularly know what pleases them. You enjoy this. Your body quivers for me, shaking in anticipation, little sparks of electricity shooting from here..." he licked her nipple, one long, slow lap of his tongue wringing another desperate whimper from her, "...down to your core."
Grace’s eyes fluttered shut. She could not watch as he expertly teased her body into a state of arousal unlike anything she'd ever experienced. “Your Grace...”
“What shall I do, honeybee? Stop? Or continue?”
She whimpered, stricken by the thought he might cease such delicious torture. “Don’t stop.”
"Each time I touch you, when I lick or bite you, you feel it… here, between your legs. Eventually, your desire will become overwhelming. You will want me there, where no man has ever been before. You will plead that I slide into you. Claim you, possess you. Oh, Grace. I will kiss you until you never get the taste of me out of your mouth. I will plunge myself into you so deep, you won't know where I end and you begin. You will need me. Inside you. Filling you. And you will beg me for it."
Grace's eyes snapped open at that, staring at Nicholas in dazed wonderment. He might know her body already; with his wealth of female conquests, he easily recognized her responses. He asked for her consent, and she willingly gave it, but he did not know her mind. Even if her body arched for him, even if her skin shuddered in delight every time his fingers or lips dragged across her flesh, she would not plead with him.
She would see this bargain through, she would honor the nights promised in exchange for Bellmar Abbey and her beloved horses, but never,never would she beseech him for anything. God help her, she'd made a pact with the Devil himself and she would not beg for a glass of water while in this hellish paradise.
