Page 41 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
He smiled, a slow, knowing smile. Her breathing became fast and ragged, echoing her pleasure. “Tell me, Alexandra,” he purred, his fingers moving higher, closer to the place where she ached the most. A place that was throbbing at that moment. “What do you want me to do?”
She swallowed hard, her throat dry. The question hung heavy in the air, taunting her with its simplicity. She didn’t know the intricacies of female desire, and there were layers of it she still didn’t understand. At least, that was what Oliver could read from her slight pause, the trembling of her thighs.
“I… I don’t know,” she confessed, her voice strangely muffled.
“Then let me show you,” he whispered.
Before she could respond, his fingers slipped beneath her drawers to press against the damp heat between her legs. She gasped, arching her back as his touch ignited a fire she hadn’t known was in her. His fingertips probed gently, exploring the contours of her most intimate place, learning the shape of her desire. They flicked back and forth, teasing her.
“So wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.
She nodded, unable to form words as his fingers began to move in deliberate strokes, teasing her with the promise of release. Each stroke brought her closer to the edge, and she could feel the coil inside her tightening, ready to snap.
“Oliver… please…” she begged, her voice breaking.
Her voice made his self-control snap. He pushed her skirt up, baring her sex to him. Then, he shifted forward, to both adore and plunder her.
“Open for me,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire.
She obeyed without hesitation, much to his surprise and pleasure, opening her legs wider as he settled between them. He lowered his head, and his tongue darted out to trace a line over the seam of her sex.
“Oh, Oliver…” she gasped, balling her fists as his tongue found her clit and circled it lazily.
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her most sensitive spot. “Does that feel good?” he purred.
Oliver could only guess what it must have felt like for his sheltered wife to be so thoroughly pleasured in a public place. However, he was too far gone. Her taste made him wild with passion, his tongue moving faster, licking and sucking with increasing intensity. Even though he knew he could coax her release that way, his fingers teased her entrance.
“Oliver… I’m…” She struggled to form words, her body trembling with the effort to hold on to her self-control.
“Shh… let go,” he soothed, his voice a deep rumble that reverberated through her. “Let me take care of you.”
He then continued his onslaught, tongue and fingers working together. He knew his shoulders would be bruised from the way she was holding on to them for dear life. But it was worth it. He’d sported bruises for much less than this heaven.
And then, with one final, excruciatingly delicious flick of his tongue, she shattered. Waves of ecstasy washed over her, and she whimpered his name weakly.
Suddenly, a door somewhere in the house opened and closed. The sound jolted them back to reality.
It was Alexandra who pulled away first, watching Oliver with wide eyes and nibbling on her lower lip.
Breathless, the two stared at each other. The intensity of her release had shaken him, and he could tell that it did the same to her. At the moment, though, she was frantically straightening her clothes, trying to hide the evidence of their passion. She inhaled deeply and exhaled with just as much force.
Oliver watched her, paralyzed by longing and frustration. When he finally reached for her, she stepped back. Her walls were back up.
“This changes nothing,” she declared, trying to sound firm. But her voice trembled slightly.
She then excused herself, slipping into the shadows and perhaps back to the ballroom.
Oliver stood alone in the hallway, torn between the desire to claim her and the painful realization that he might have to let her go.
Chapter Seventeen
“Just a rake playing with my naïveté,” she muttered, pressing her fingers to the piano keys.
While Alexandra enjoyed the ball, the aftermath was exhausting.
She craved solitude, as she often did when she was overwhelmed, seeking solace in her music. The quiet corners of Oliver’s townhouse became her refuge, where she could drop the pretense. The charade was tiring, especially as her heart betrayed her by believing it might be real.
His jealousy and their heated kiss replayed in her mind, stirring conflicting emotions. Her cheeks reddened when she remembered how they went further. She hadn’t known that a man could do that to a woman. She pressed her thighs together as a sweet ache pulsed in her sex.
