Page 79 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
His boldness made her tremble.
Moments later, after Penelope swallowed hard, she finally nodded and whispered, “I have, and it was not enough to sate me. Not after…” She blushed hard.
Edmund smiled at her, casual and indulgent. “Not after I had made you climax?”
Penelope held his gaze, wetting her lips. His attention was drawn to the movement. “Exactly,” she told him.
He gazed at her for another long moment, slowly pulled one of her legs up around his waist, and then the other, until she was seated against the door. He held her as though she weighed little more than a piece of fabric, his broad frame easily handling her in a way she had never imagined.
Finally, he got her corset off and released the crushing hold it had on her breasts.
She made to cover up, but Edmund ground his hips against hers and held her with one arm around her waist while he used the other to pin her wrists above her head.
He lowered his face to hers, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “Do not cover up when I am trying to look at you.”
Slowly, she relaxed beneath his gaze, letting herself recognize the desire in his eyes. Even if she did not believe it, she could see it, and that was enough.
He gave her a sharp look as he released her wrists, the silent warning still ringing. And as much as she itched to cover her breasts, to place a hand between her thighs to conceal herself, she obeyed.
His fingers worked into her hair, loosening it from the pins and style that she had her lady’s maid do for her earlier that day under the guise of dinner with Finley. The blonde waves fell over her shoulders in a way that she didn’t usually think looked pretty, but Edmund looked at her as though he was viewing the most beautiful painting.
He swallowed, taking his time to drink in every little bit of her.
“It is not fair,” she managed to say. “I am the only one naked. Does it please you to have me so bare yet you remain covered?”
“Perhaps,” he teased. “Perhaps I can see how sensitive it makes you to brush your bare skin against my clothing. Perhaps you will ruin the fine fabric with your release before dawn peeks its head, and I will go home knowing that you have left your mark on my possessions.”
“As enthralling as that sounds,” she breathed, “I want to see you as much as you want to keep seeing me.”
His eyes darkened as he caught her mouth in a brief, teasing kiss. “Be patient, dear Penelope.”
And then she was pulled away from the door, nothing supporting her but his hands, and she swooned at the casual display of strength before her back met the mattress. Silk black sheets welcomed her as the dark Duke stood over her, gazing upon her naked body. He stood between her legs and smirked when she lifted her hips to press right against his erection. She gasped at how it felt against her most intimate part.
“Do not worry,” he told her, trailing his knuckles down her stomach, stopping just above her hips. “I will lavish you in every greedy, little desire you have, but first I just want to look, to taste, totouch.”
And he did. He knelt between her legs, pulling her backside so it was on the edge of the bed. Her breath fluttered out of her, her hair draped over the sheets. It felt fitting—a dark room, sensually silken sheets feeling luxurious against her skin—and yet the Duke of Blackstone kneeled toher.
“Dukes do not kneel for many people, Penelope, but I will kneel to you. Where do you want me, Penelope?” he asked.
But before she could answer, he held her gaze as he kissed right over her heat. She would have cried out if not for him doing it again, and making her utterly wordless. Her mind emptied at the vulgar gesture, yet his eyes still held hers as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“I want you right where you are,” she moaned, remembering his other warning of not touching her if she did not answer. “Please, do not move.”
“Oh?” he murmured, his breath fanning her heat. “So I shall not move, even if you beg for me to enter you? I promised you much more than what I gave you in the library, no?”
She could see that as he kissed her heat over and over, distracting her, sending her mind spinning, the caress of his mouth in a place she had never imagined one’s mouth might ever go, his arm was moving. She heard the rustle of fabric.
“So I shall not move, not even to bare myself as you requested?”
“You tease me.” She laughed through a gasp as he switched from mere kisses to harder attention.
He touched the very tip of her heat, the part his fingers had nimbly, knowingly toyed with in the library, and drew it between his lips. It was lewd and vulgar, and yet Penelope could not help but weave her fingers through his hair.
At that, he stiffened. Her breath caught, and she made to pull back, but he looked up at her through dark, lowered lashes. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed once more as he kept eye contact and delved into her with his tongue. Penelope couldn’t linger on what had caught him off-guard about her fingers in his hair, but he didn’t make a move to remove her hands.
Instead, he feasted on her.
For Penelope, who had never even let herself dream of such things, sweet oblivion encased every thought, every nerve, every limb. A slow, syrupy feeling settled into her body, and she gave in to it. Every point of contact grounded her—Edmund’s hands holding her thighs apart, his silky, dark hair between her fingers, and the warm, wet tongue that wrought pleasure on her core.
