Page 65 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
“I want you to submit to me, Emmeline.” As she sat there, her clothes in rags about her hips, so filled with heat and urgency that she throbbed with it, he tipped her chin up to face him. “I want everything,” he murmured, softer now. “Because I may be damned, but you have all of me.”
“I’m yours.”
It was the right thing to say. He took hold of her face in both his hands and kissed her. Rough, hard, until her breath was ragged and her head swam.
“Tell me the moment anything is too much,” he said, his voice soft again as he trailed a hand down her cheek. “Tell me what you like and what you don’t like.”
“I liked it when—” A flush suffused her cheeks. “That first night, when you…”
“I see.” Gently, he unpinned her hair. That was always how it would be between them, with her tresses hanging down her back. “So you liked that, didn’t you?”
“Very much.”
“I felt how much.” Unexpectedly, his hands were on her thighs, a gentle pressure that had her opening them immediately. His fingers went to her core, coming away slick. “Like that,” he said, his voice hoarse, and her gaze went to his breeches, the bulge there. “You were dripping for me, love.”
The terrible want she had felt before came back, and she took hold of his wrist, holding it against her. “Please.”
It was as if the plea broke him—he surged forward, taking her lips in another kiss even as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Quickly, he broke the kiss in order to divest himself of his clothing, and then he kissed her again. Naked once more.Hersonce more.
“Remember to tell me what you don’t like,” he said and pushed her back down on the bed. “You must not reach your peak until I tell you that you can,” he said and bit the tender skin of her thigh, just enough that pain lanced through her. “Do you understand?”
Her acquiescence was more a sob, but she nodded, already squirming in anticipation, his gaze enough to make heat break out all over her. How much she needed him—she needed him to touch her, or she was certain she would go mad.
He groaned at the sight of her, dragging a finger through her wetness as he cupped himself. But before she could ask, his tongue was on her, and every question flew out of her head.
This was divine. She had never been especially religious, attending church when required and going through the motions but never committing, but this felt like a sacred experience. If someone had told her that she had been blessed by God, she would have believed them.
Wet heat. Pleasure. It bloomed through her like flowers after rain, and she wiggled, rubbing her hips against him until he caught them and held them down. A finger joined his wicked, relentless mouth, and she moaned, unable to stop herself.
“That’s right,” he said, kissing the juncture between her hip and her thigh. “Let me know that you are enjoying yourself, love. But remember, you must not hit your peak.”
That request was harder than it had seemed at first. His every movement seemed designed to bring her closer to the edge until she was tiptoeing on it, on the edge of a blade poised to fall, her entire body tightening in anticipation.
“Not yet,” he said, slapping her thigh.
The sharp sting of pain and the hot, liquid pleasure that followed just after made her gasp. And then he was no longer touching her at all. It seemed even the softest of breaths would push her beyond the point of no return.
She mewled, tossing her head. “Adam, please.”
“What would you like?”
Saying the words felt taboo, almost, as though she was crossing a line she should not. Ladies were refined, delicate, not crude. And yet she burned for him.
“Adam.”
“Tell me what you want, sweetest.” He rewarded her with another lick. “Then perhaps I will grant it.”
“You know what I want.” She was so hot. The silken sheets were agony against her sensitive skin. She was alive with sensation. “And you know you can grant it. Please, Adam.”
She felt his smile against her, blowing hot breath that sent her so close to the edge. Then another slap, red blazing. Pain. Pleasure. She was so slick with desire that she knew she was dripping with it, just as he had said before.
It was exquisite, this torture, and she prayed it would never end just as she prayed he would let her climax.
“I want you to make me…” She struggled with the words, the crudeness, but she was rewarded with another laugh.
“Good girl,” he said against her most sensitive place and pushed a finger inside.
His tongue lapped at her once more, and it was enough for her to break. She fell apart in a way she had never done before, not even at his hands. As though every part of her had exploded in light. Her world narrowed down to him and every wonderful, wicked thing he was doing to her.
