Page 50 of A Bargain with the Rakish Duke
Beatrice opened her mouth to protest, but he moved the cloth to her shoulder, his touch both gentle and commanding.
“You are mine,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Kenneth continued bathing her, his gaze never leaving her face. He watched as her expression softened, her annoyance melting away, replaced by something else—something deeper, more vulnerable.
As he felt her body slowly relax, he moved his hands further beneath the water.
She let out a small gasp as she felt his hands between her thighs, and he slid two fingers inside her. With unwavering patience, he tenderly massaged her, his thumb circling her bud, sensing its gradual firmness beneath his touch.
As he cautiously slid his two fingers in and out of her, a soft, barely audible sound filled the air. The scent of her arousal lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of her rose-scented soap. But when she arched her back, a symphony of pleasure erupted through her body, and her breathless gasps filled the air, electrifying the moment.
In response, he quickened his movements, his focus sharpening as he sought to amplify her pleasure. His lips danced across her skin, finding all the right spots that made her gasp and moan, leaving a trail of fiery kisses along her neck, her collarbone, down to her breasts.
He could feel her body responding to his touch, her breathing becoming erratic, her hips involuntarily grinding against his hand. He could sense her nearing the edge, and he was determined to take her there, to unleash waves of pleasure that would consume her entirely.
As the rhythm of his fingers inside her reached a crescendo, Beatrice let out a small cry, and her body shuddered, sending water splashing across the floor. When she came down from her climax, she opened her eyes but didn’t speak.
Kenneth picked up the soft, plush towel Anna had left next to the tub. Without a word, Beatrice stepped out of the warm water, her skin glistening with droplets that he carefully patted dry. Each stroke sent shivers through her.
When he was done, he took her to the bed and gently laid her down. Her hands flew up to hide her breasts, but he pushed them aside. He cupped the mounds in his hands and squeezed gently.
Beatrice caught hold of his shirt and dragged it up and over his head. She pressed her hands to his chest, her touch a delicate exploration as her fingers traced the contours of his muscles, tentative curiosity and undeniable desire in every caress. She trailed her fingers down his stomach to his erection, and when she was about to pull away, he reached for her hand and held it there.
Her lips curled into a shy smile. “Do you like that?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he uttered in a ragged whisper.
He pulled her hand away and shrugged off his trousers, impatience spurring him on. He was holding onto his self-control by a thread, and he was about to explode.
In one swift movement, Kenneth thrust into her, and she let out a little cry.
He stilled, hesitating, and asked softly, “Did I hurt you?”
“No, don’t stop,” she said breathlessly.
He pushed into her, and he quickly found a rhythm. She lifted her hips and shifted her body to move with him.
Kenneth looked down at her. The sight of her beauty, with her blue eyes half-lidded with pleasure, was almost too much. He lowered his head, and she arched up and kissed him. He held her close as he quickened his thrusts until she reached the crescendo of her pleasure. Only then did he allow himself to climax.
With a roar of pleasure, he thrust into her deep and hard one last time and spilled his seed inside her.
He collapsed next to her, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Beatrice rolled over onto her side, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on his chest.
Kenneth felt a strange sense of satisfaction as he took in her flushed cheeks and the glow in her eyes. He rose from the bed, his gaze lingering on her as she lay there, her breathing gradually returning to normal.
Pulling on his clothes, he walked to the door, the scent of their shared passion heavy in the air. As he reached for the handle, he glanced back at her.
“You are mine, Duchess,” he declared, his voice low and commanding, his eyes locking onto hers. “Never forget that.”
With a final, lingering look, he stepped into the corridor, quietly closing the door behind him.
Chapter Sixteen
“Good morning, Duchess. I trust you slept well?” Kenneth looked up from his newspaper, a small smile playing on his lips as he greeted her.
Beatrice felt a blush creep up her neck, memories of their passionate encounter the previous night still fresh in her mind. “Good morning. I did, thank you.”
As she took her seat beside him, Kenneth poured her a cup of tea, his eyes meeting hers. “So, what does your day hold?”
