Page 76 of Her Wicked Duke
Alexander stood over her and shucked off his jacket. His eyes did not leave hers as he unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his muscular chest and thick arms. Her mouth grew dry as she beheld all that he was.
This man washers.And not only hers but herhusband.
He brushed a finger between her legs, his palm flattening against the bundle of nerves that immediately made her cry out in pleasure.
“I have wished to bring you to your climax a thousand times,” he told her, slowly kneeling between her legs, pushing her knees apart. Then, he draped her legs over his shoulders. “I have dreamed about my title on your lips as you reach the peak of your pleasure.” His eyes met hers, and she felt the heat of his heavy gaze. “Will you call me by my title, Anne? Will you respect me in such ways?”
His voice was soft, but the command was clear. Something so commonly used in Society, but in the bedroom, it could have a different meaning.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she answered, using it, testing it out, only to watch his eyes darken as he lowered his mouth to her thigh, kissing the soft skin there.
His eyes never once left hers, and she did not think she could breathe as she watched his lips inch closer to her center.
He closed his eyes as his tongue touched her heat, and she cried out before clapping a hand over her mouth.
“The Dowager?—”
“The house is ours,” he swore. “For tonight, at least. I want to hear you.”
“I will show you no mercy one day,” he’d promised her that day in the art gallery.
So, she slid her fingers into his hair. “My Duke,” she said softly. “Show me no mercy?” she echoed innocently, her voice full of false naïvety that had him growling against her flesh.
He gripped her thighs, parted them further, and drove his tongue into her folds.
Anne was lost to pleasure after that. He tasted her like she was a fine wine and he was starving and determined to be drunk on the essence of her lust. She rolled her hips against his tongue, gasping and tugging at his hair, moaning and whimpering beneath his ministrations.
“Your Grace,please,” she moaned, knowing he liked it when she begged for release.
He didn’t answer, only hummed against her skin, and she felt it more than heard it. She crossed her ankles over his shoulders, digging her heels into his skin as she ground her hips against his hot tongue.
She was devoured, desired, and utterly at his mercy, as he’d promised.
Soon, she was reaching her climax once again, and she chanted his name as a warning, her voice growing louder and thinner. Alexander’s hand moved down, hidden from view, and she realized he was stroking his length while pleasuring her.
There was something about knowing he was aroused because of her that had her tumbling furiously into the height of pleasure.
“Your Grace,” she cried out, her voice breaking. “Alexander.”
The high cry tore from her throat as she reached her peak, her chest heaving. Alexander kept tasting her with vigor—a starved man. It was only when she cried out, shuddering uncontrollably, that he drew back.
She realized that he had stroked his length to be fully prepared to enter her.
When he stood up, he undid the rest of the buttons on his trousers and then tugged them off. His thighs were thick, his muscles bunching beneath them. She had the sudden thought that he might be able to pick her up and take her against a wall if she asked, despite her curves.
He stared down at her, his chest heaving. His length stood erect, thick, like the rest of him, and she should not have expected any different. It was considerably long, and she swallowed.
“Alexander, I?—”
Her arrogant husband smirked. “Are you worried, Anne?”
Laughing nervously, she nodded. “I—Will it fit?”
He loomed over her, and his weight blanketed her in the exact way she had hoped it would. He kissed her deeply, intimately, before entwining their fingers. He pinned her arms above her head, rendering her at his mercy.
“I shall make it so,” he promised.
She gasped at the lusty promise, a rush of heat reigniting in her.
