Page 36 of The Untamed Duke
He wasn't even inside her, and the sensation was so damn perfect, he couldn't catch his breath. If he lifted her leg the tiniest bit, he could ease into her wet heat.
Just a little taste. A brief glimpse of heaven.
Didn't he deserve it after the goddamn control he exhibited while giving her orgasm after orgasm? Three, if anyone was counting. He'd never experienced such overwhelming desire as when Grace clenched about his fingers and came on his tongue. And he never exhibited such control before. He deserved this. A reward...
Rocking into the narrow crevice, the foreign sensation of his erection wedged between her thighs, the feel of his muscular thighs pressing against the back of her own dragged Grace from a semi-conscious state.
"Your Grace?" It was a sleepy, horrified whisper. "What are you doing?"
"What I should have done at the start,” Nicholas muttered, frustrated. "I want to feel the inside of you clenching about me. I need to feel your heat burning me as I take what is mine."
She shifted, although her limbs did not fully cooperate. "But...you promised."
Her voice was weak, hovering on the brink of complete surrender. Finally, she was at his mercy. What he wanted all along. Begging as he vowed she would...only he wasn’t sure he wanted that now. Her supplication felt wrong. The guilt he felt made worse as the words assailed him in a rushed sob. Shaky. Pleading.
"Please don't. You promised. You promised...please, Your Grace..."
Nicholas’s gut roiled even as desire reached unimaginable heights. With a choked breath, he rested his forehead against the back of her skull. Breathed in her clean fragrance.
He'd tamed her after all. Broke her down. A hollow, useless victory.
"Jesus, Grace. You don't understand, you have no goddamn idea how badly I want you. I can't just...turn it off. I don't have the control I should have around you. You must let me..."
Her voice, small and accusing, curled around him. It ripped at his cold, hard heart, leaving a minuscule tear just large enough for a tiny, fragile heartbeat of warmth. Of compassion. Concern and hope that she would forgive him.
And shame.
"You promised me. And I trusted you. Istilltrust you..."
Nicholas was motionless, lust shredding his willpower. He wanted her. Badly.
Knowing he shouldn’t take her was enraging.
Remnants of a tattered conscience still existed somewhere deep within his soul. Those ragged pieces had never kept him from taking anything he wanted for the last five years. Would they stop him now?
"Don't you goddam move."
Growling, his hand gripped the top curve of her hip, the other holding his erection as he withdrew from between her legs. With impatient movements, he positioned himself until he lay heavy and hungry atop her perfectly round bottom cheeks rather than between them, the broad head of his penis throbbing.
"Bloody hell, I'll see to my own satisfaction, but you will be a participant. You shall be still and quiet because, God help me, if you move, our bargain be damned. I’ll take you without benefit of bloody French letters." His words were an icy command. “Do you understand?"
Grace nodded consent. "Yes." Worry threaded her relieved whisper. "You won't hurt me, will you?"
A frustrated curse escaped him. "Bloody hell, Grace! This is more painful for me than..." Breaking off with a deep breath, he regained his misplaced control, swallowed hard, then rasped, "No, I will not hurt you. I won't ever willingly hurt you."
She relaxed immediately, softening against him, warm and liquidly compliant when there was every reason in the world she shouldn’t be. "All right."
Nicholas’s insides twisted painfully as she placed herself in his hands. She trusted him. For some goddamn reason, she trusted him.
With trembling fingers, he dipped between Grace's legs, wringing a startled gasp from her.
"That was for me, to do...what I must," he groaned against the curve of her neck. With her silky moisture on his fingertips, a fresh wave of intense need washed over him.
"I won’t do anything more than that. Just let me touch you...yes, a little more, my sweet pet..."
Sweet Jesus, how the hell would he survive four more nights of this torture?
Anointing himself with her essence, he gripped his erection, sliding against the curve of her rear, up to the enticing dip of her lower back. Pushing hard against her, he moved. Thrusting his hips, his hand wet with her moisture, the motions combined into a parody of making love.
