Page 88 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
“You are pale, Eleanor,” he noted, frowning. “Are you certain you want me to see me naked?”
“Do not tease me,” she pleaded, impatiently watching, her whole body aching with need.
She felt as though she was in a daze, waiting for him—waiting forallof him. And moments later, she was given what she craved.
Spencer pushed down his breeches, bearing narrow hips and thick thighs.
“I…”
Her voice stuck in her lungs, her lashes fluttering as she beheld his manhood. It was thick, long enough to curve up to his belly, and her stomach jumped at the sight.
“Spencer, I?—”
There was an ache deep within her core, a demand tofeelwhat she could see, and his gaze dropped to her parted legs.
“Are you aware that you are wet for me?” he asked quietly, his eyes hot and hungry, fixed on her.
He braced himself on the edge of the bed, planting one knee on the mattress and nudging her back. Eleanor scooted backward, her breathing labored.
“Are you aware that your sex is glistening, dripping with desire?”
Aside from the hunger in his eyes, he looked utterly undone. Eleanor flushed red at his words.
“Let me touch you.”
It was a desperate plea, not an order, a vulnerable moment as he finally braced himself over her. He moved his knee between her own, nudging her legs further apart. His hand fell to her hip, teasing her as she fell silent.
“Let me,” he urged softly, nosing along her throat. His teeth nipped the sensitive skin, and she moaned.
“I am yours,” she breathed, but he shook his head.
“I want you to ask,” he murmured, his eyes holding hers as if searching for the trust he needed.
Trusting men had never come easy to Eleanor, not even when it came to Spencer, but now… now she knew she would do anything he asked.
“Ask me to touch you.”
The hand on her hip wandered wickedly close to where she ached desperately.
Discreetly, Eleanor lifted her knee, brushing his length to tease him right back. Spencer hissed as he moved closer until they were almost flush.
“Please,” she said. “Please touch me.” Her hips bucked. “I must—I must feel your touch in every intimate place. I do not want there to be a place you have not touched. Not one inch of me.”
“Ask me again,” he breathed, smiling down at her as if he knew just how much power he held over her.
“Touch me.”
It was less of a request and more of a demand this time, and he grinned, all danger and teasing, all dark desire and adoration, as he leaned down to claim her mouth—right as his hand cupped her soaked sex.
Eleanor moaned into his mouth as he slid two fingers inside her, already desperate to prepare her, and she parted her legs further to give him more access.
His length ground against her thigh, and she ached for it. She ached to feel it filling her.
“I have not stopped thinking,” Spencer murmured, pulling back to look at her, “about how you looked with your lips wrapped around my fingers.”
He slowly slid his fingers in and out of her, both grounding and distracting.
“Why?” she asked breathlessly, aware she could toy with him in return.
