Page 65 of A Deal with her Forbidden Duke
Her head spun with his bare honesty. “Touch me,” she found herself begging. “Touch me, husband.”
He gave her a sly, wicked grin. “Asknicely.” His command was punctuated with a hard snap of the cravat against the top of her thigh.
She gasped, flinching, but her leg stayed in the same place. He peered at her, as if she puzzled him.
“Did you think me timid? That I would crawl away from a sting?” she asked, her voice low with desire. “I am not timid.”
“I can see that,” he praised, looking her up and down.
His shirt hung open, baring the dark fuzz of hair on his chest and the swell of muscle beneath. The sleeves had already slipped off his shoulders, and he tugged the whole thing off. Hard biceps flexed, and Madeleine stared openly.
“Do you like what you see?”
“No,” she lied.
She was answered with another snap of the cravat.
“Do not lie.”
Her breath caught.
“I like—I like what I see.”
“Good.” The praise came as a purr as he came to tower over her.
Where she was sat on the bed, the waistband of his breeches was on her eye line. She swallowed at the hard bulge contained within them.
Heavens, she thought.I do not know how that will fit.
He smirked down at her. “Yes?”
“I… I do not know if it will fit.”
“Don’t you fret, darling. We will make it.”
Fear clenched her heart and, for a moment, he leaned down, tenderness breaking through the dominant mask.
“I will prepare you well,” he told her. “And if it is too much, we will stop.”
She froze. Had he figured out she had not yet lost her maidenhood? That she had not been taken to bed during her previous marriage?
Alexander snapped the cravat against her thigh again.
“Unfasten my breeches,” he commanded, “and I will prepare you. I want to feel how soaked you have gotten from only my words, Duchess.”
“Y-yes,” she stammered, her heart racing wildly. “Please.”
His eyes flashed. “Oh, I like it when you beg.”
She didn’t have a chance to think of a witty remark before his fingers were at her entrance, right where his tongue had been in the carriage, and she gasped as he held her gaze, pushing in with one long finger.
“I do not feel my length getting any relief,” he reminded, and Madeleine could not move fast enough.
Slowly, she felt his finger enter her with the intention of preparing her for such a length. He was thick, she felt, as she bit back her moans, exploring over the bulge in his breeches.
She began to unfasten them as her breaths got shorter.
“I will use two,” he warned her before a second finger joined the first.
