Page 47 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
“But… are you certain, Your Grace?”
His reply was a growl as he captured her lips once more. “Yes,” he said against her mouth. “I’m certain. And call me Oliver. Such an act does not warrant such formality.”
Alexandra chuckled. He was right. They were doing things husbands and wives did.
She melted into him, meeting his touches with equal fervor—she had no idea she was capable of such a thing. There was no protest from her when he guided her backward until she was sitting on the edge of her bed.
“Undress me,” he commanded, his voice thick with desire.
Alexandra’s fingers fumbled with his already open shirt. She pulled it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
She bit her lip.
His chest was broad and muscular, dusted with dark hair that tapered beneath the waistband of his trousers. Even marred with bruises, his body was exquisite.
Her eyes traced every defined muscle, and she felt her cheeks flush. Yes, she had seen him before, but not like this.
“Like what you see?” he asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
She had missed that naughty smile.
“You know I do,” she responded boldly. “Oliver.”
He chuckled softly, seemingly pleased with her finally calling him by his Christian name.
He reached out to cup her cheek in his hand. “You’re so beautiful, Alexandra. So utterly delicious.”
Alexandra’s heart stuttered at his words. She was rendered speechless, and she might as well. His hands were already peeling her nightgown off her body.
“Lie down,” he ordered. “Let me look at you.”
The young Duchess obeyed, feeling unnervingly exposed but also thrilled at the possibilities. She lay down on the bed as he took off her undergarments.
Oliver stared at her, his eyes heavy-lidded. She writhed a little even as she told herself to behave. “You look so pretty. Spread your legs for me. Just for me.”
“Please,” Alexandra begged, partly because she was embarrassed by the way her husband admired her body and partly because she wanted him now. “Please.”
Oliver grunted as he quickly undressed before her. Soon, he was in bed with her, their bodies flush from chest to thigh. His bare skin on hers felt like heaven.
“Good God, Alexandra,” he groaned, squeezing her breasts and exploring the rest of her body with his hands. “I’ve wanted this for so long. I wantyou.”
“Make me yours then, Oliver,” she said.
He kissed her again while touching every inch of her. Mapping her form. Worshipping her body. He traced the outline of her breasts with both hands, his thumbs teasing her nipples into hard buds.
“Beautiful,” he murmured against her skin as he captured one nipple in his mouth.
He sucked hard on the bud, drawing it in and licking it. She arched her back, pushing herself closer to him.
There was more to this, Alexandra knew. She was reminded of it when his hand slid lower, his fingers brushing over the wet heat between her thighs. Her hips jerked at the contact, a moan slipping past her lips as she arched into him.
“Touch me, please.” The words tumbled out in a breathless plea.
His eyes flashed with raw desire, and a dark smirk curved his lips. “Oh, I do love it when you beg,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful delight.
Without warning, he slid two fingers inside her slick, waiting core. Alexandra cried out, her thighs falling open wider, welcoming him in. Sparks raced across her skin when he found her most sensitive spot. His thumb circled her swollen nub expertly, teasing her mercilessly.
“So responsive,” he praised, his voice husky, though she could hear his need in it. “Every part of you craves my touch, doesn’t it?”
