Page 55 of Her Duke Next Door
His hand fell between her legs, right over her heat, where she indeed ached for him. His fingers brushed the most sensitive part of her, where she was soaked and ready, as though she wished for his body to be near, to bring her pleasure once more.
She tensed, waiting for his fingers to breach her entrance.
“Y—Your Grace,” she stammered.
“Call me by my name, Mary,” he told her but before she could, Dominique sank to his knees before her and pressed his tongue to her wet folds.
“Dominique!” His name fell from her lips in a high cry, a keen of pleasure, as he parted her legs further, giving him more room. His broad shoulders were a natural place for her legs to drape as he delved deeper, his tongue lapping at her heat before he pushed the muscle into her.
He groaned into her heat, his head bowing up and down as he feasted on her as though he was a starving man and she was a decadent meal. Mary keened and leaned back, her hands scrambling to clear the table behind her. Dishes clattered to the floor, smashing loudly that she almost feared anybody hearing them but Dominique soon took those worries away with another swipe of his tongue.
Mary moaned as she let herself collapse back onto the dining table, lifting her hips into Dominique’s mouth as he licked her thoroughly, keeping her spread with one hand. Her hands found their way into his hair, fisting tightly, as she gasped.
“Dominique—Oh, Dominique,” she moaned. “Please do not stop.”
He made a rough noise into her, moving his mouth between licking into her entrance and then biting the soft insides of her thighs. Pleasure bloomed like a never-ending waterfall through Mary, waves of desire drowning her over and over. She gasped, bucking her hips for more and more pleasure that he provided. His tongue curled inside of her, the sounds erotic and echoing in the dining room.
Mary’s legs tightened around him, her heels digging into his back, as she rode the rhythm he started.
Her moans filled the room, and soon, Dominique’s groans joined her, and she saw his fist move just beneath the table’s edge. It brought her more pleasure to know she had this effect on him: that he grew stiff just from pleasuring her.
Mary had never felt anything like this before—had never experienced a man’s tongue so intimately, and she could not breathe easily for the overwhelming pleasure that suffocated her.
“You are beautiful,” Dominique murmured, right onto her entrance, licking her entrance right along the opening. He pulled back, his mouth glistening obscenely. His own breath was short as he stroked himself to a matching orgasm but it was unhurried, as though his pleasure was second to hers. “So, so beautiful. Shout for me, Mary. I want to hear your moans.”
With that, his tongue sought out the center of her pleasure once more, and he feasted on her until she cried out and her hips lifted wildly, of their own accord, and she could not contain the throes of desire that heightened and broke over her, pulling her under.
“Dominique,” she wailed as her orgasm crested and faded, leaving her breathless and gasping, aborted little breaths as her hips stuttered beneath his unrelenting attention. And the gasps and broken moans he gave as he finished himself made her mouth dry with a desire to know howshemight make him make those sounds.
After he pulled away, Dominique leaned over Mary as she lay quite boneless on the table, gazing at the ceiling. It was with a strange disappointment that she watched him tuck himself back in his trousers, as he had done the day before in his study.
“I have,” she started but found her voice hard to grasp. “I have never—experienced that.”
Dominique smiled down at her, bracing himself over her. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Very much,” she sighed breathlessly.
“Good.” He leaned in to kiss her deeply, stealing the remnants of her breath away with a chuckle before he pulled away and tucked his shirt back into his trousers. Mary tugged down her dress and sat up.
The Duke had already left the dining room, with one last smile at her over his shoulder.
ChapterSixteen
“Isuppose perhaps I did not feel for my husband the way I thought I did,” Mary mused to herself, sitting in a deep armchair in the parlor.
Her gaze was fixed on the window, where, beyond, Dominique was running around a tree, trying to catch Katie as she scampered away. She laughed for talking to herself but in the lonely nights in her countryside home in previous years, it had brought something of a comfort to her.
It is a strange thing to consider that what I felt for Patrick was never true love or desire, she thought to herself.What I feel for Dominique is so vastly different.
And the acknowledgment of that terrified her greatly. Surely she should have loved Patrick as her husband. But what she felt for Dominique… It threatened to burn her from the inside out.
She threaded her next stitch through the linen pulled taut on the embroidery circle, and before she realized it, she had started the shape of a horse. Exactly like the one he had almost trampled her with the day they met.
“Mama!” Eloise tapped on the window from the garden of Livingston Castle.
“Come outside to play!” Eloise demanded, in the way a child enjoyed doing. Mary smiled fondly. Her daughter had been in much better spirits since they had moved to Livingston Castle. How could she part the two girls now? Even if they would still remain neighbors…
Of course that is the reason you tell yourself you have not yet left, Mary chided herself.
