Page 89 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
He gave a low growl. “There are…” He thrust deeper, coaxing a loud gasp from her. “… certain things that can feel good for a man that…” His words dripped from his lips, delicious and heady. Eleanor couldn’t help but splay her hands over his chest before moving one to his hair. “That require the use of a lady’s mouth.”
“Any lady?” she purred.
“You,” he corrected, snarling into another demanding kiss. “Only you.”
“And do you wish me to learn how to do this thing you speak of?”
“One day, perhaps,” he allowed, his fingers still steadily sliding in and out of her. “But not tonight. Tonight, there is only one place I wish to bury myself, and it is not your mouth.”
He curled his fingers inside her, brushing a spot that had her crying out. At that moment, Eleanor did not care about his aunt, or even Charlotte, whose room was several doors down the hall. All she cared about was the pleasure, how much more of it she would have tonight, and how she wasn’t sure she would be able to endure it in the best way possible.
“Heavens, you sound beautiful,” he muttered, kissing the corner of her mouth and lightly nipping her lips before pulling back.
His length twitched against her leg, and she stifled another groan at the thought of it entering her.
Spencer moved back and sat on his heels, gripping his length. He nodded when she kept her eyes on his own.
Eleanor let her gaze drift to where his hands wrapped around his length, and her mouth went dry.
“Do not hold back,” he demanded. “I do not care if I have to press my fingers to your tongue again—I want you to voice your pleasure.”
“I will not hold back,” she whispered, her lashes fluttering as he moved closer.
Spencer aligned himself with her aching core, the head of his length nudging her. At the first press, she held her breath, but he was already kneading her hip, distracting her with a kiss.
“I promised to take care of you,” he reminded her gently. “Give yourself to me. I will not let you break.”
“And what if I want you to?”
She held his eyes, noted the way he looked lost in his own pleasure. “Then I will do so in a way that will have you singing to the heavens in pleasure.”
And how that had her falling—the urge to break before a man who would never let her shatter such that she was unable to come back to herself.
Eleanor had broken over and over in the last three years. The promise that it could be done safely, intimately, made her beg.
“Enter me,” she pleaded. “I cannot wait another moment. I must—I must feel you.”
Spencer kissed her, and as he did, he finally pushed into her. Her cry was swallowed up, licked away by his tongue, as he claimed her mouth and body. Her breathing turned ragged as he slowly slid into her to the hilt.
“G-Goodness,” she moaned, clinging to him with everything she had. He steadied her, grounded her. “Spencer.Spencer.”
“You are doing so well, Eleanor,” he praised, his voice strained as he sheathed himself fully inside her. “You are ever so patient for me. Look how well you have taken me. Feel how you’re sucking me in? I have never known such a tight heat.”
His words broke on a groan as he kissed her once more, letting her adjust to the new sensation.
Eleanor shuddered, trying to adjust to the thickness stretching her. Her moans were broken and breathy, her nails digging into his shoulders.
“I—” Her voice cracked, her eyes fluttering shut. “I cannotthink. I cannot do anything but feel.”
“Some say that is how you know it is good,” Spencer murmured, a laugh escaping his lips. She wondered if that meant anything—that he found humor in such a moment. “That it wipes out every thought, especially if one’s mind is heavy.”
“Then wipe out my thoughts,” she pressed. “I am ready.”
She lifted her hips as if to prove her point, and he looked down at her for a moment as if making sure. And then he moved, pulling out of her, a slow rhythm that he didn’t attempt to quicken. But it threatened to drag Eleanor into a sweet oblivion all the same. Even Spencer himself seemed lost to it.
He groaned as he pushed back into her, and the ache became something sharper, something delicious, something Eleanor quickly realized she might come to crave.
It was… strange, yes, and part of her found it hard to believe that such a thing could be used solely for pleasure, with no ulterior motive.
