Page 64 of From Duke Till Dawn
He couldn’t resist any longer.
Without stopping their turns, he lowered his head and kissed her. She opened to him at once, eager and ravenous for more. The kiss sank deeper, tongues stroking velvet sleek depths. Her hands gripped his shoulders. Through the tissue of her cloak and the silk of her dress, he cupped her arse, bringing her tight against him. She moaned into his mouth at the feel of his cock, hard and demanding as it rose between them.
They stopped the movements of the dance, too enraptured by the kiss to do anything more. He pulled away enough to growl in her ear. “Yes. Open for me. Give me everything.” He nuzzled against her throat. “I’ll take it. I’ll take everything you offer. Over your clothes. Beneath your gown.” Lightly, he stroked his fingertips across her collarbone. “You’re wet for me. I know you are. I want to feel your flesh all around me. You’re hot. So goddamn hot. A flame. Burn me up.” He pressed his lips to the spot where her neck curved into her shoulder. “Take me into you and burn me to ashes.”
Words poured from him between kisses. Words he couldn’t—wouldn’t—stop. They were a tribute and a command. He was hers and she belonged to him. And they were lashed together by their kisses and his words.
The more he spoke, the more fevered her lips became. The more urgent the feel of her body against his. Higher and higher, to heights that couldn’t be measured, they rose together.
The room around them fell away. He noticed nothing but her as she broke the kiss, leading him toward a chaise in the corner.
She lay down on the chaise and pulled him atop her. She was alive and hot beneath him, writhing in demand. “Alex,” she said, low and husky. Her arms wrapped around him. She pulled him down for another long, scorching kiss. “Touch me. Now.”
He didn’t care about where he was or who might see him. He glanced to one side and saw a trio of women watching him and Cassandra.
It didn’t matter. All that signified was her. After pushing her cloak out of the way, his hand found the round swell of her breast rising up against the fabric of her bodice. He dipped his fingers beneath the neckline, finding her tight nipple. She gasped against his mouth as he rubbed and lightly pinched the firm point of her breast. Answering pleasure tore through him to hear her respond so readily to his touch.
With his other hand, he gathered up the fabric of her skirts. He glided up her leg, testing the feel of silk-covered flesh beneath his palm. She had smooth, sleek legs, and they moved restlessly under his hand. His fingers brushed the ribbons of her garter. Then he found the creamy flesh of her thigh. She wore no drawers.
He groaned at this revelation, but didn’t stop the progress of his hand. He cupped the silk and satin of her mound. She arched up with a cry the moment his fingers dipped between her folds, finding her as wet as he’d hoped, eager and ready for him. Delving deeper, he stroked her—around her opening, circling her clit. She was wild beneath him as he teased and caressed, and when he sank two fingers inside her, she came with a long, low moan.
But he wasn’t satisfied—continued to stroke and caress her until he made her come again, and once more. Finally, her body splayed limp against the chaise. He brought his fingers into his mouth, and she blushed deeply, gorgeously, as he licked her up.
He felt the press of her hand against his urgent cock. She wanted to give him the same satisfaction.
Carefully, he removed her hand from him.
“But you haven’t...” she murmured.
“When we’re alone, you’ll cry my name, and I’ll shout yours. This is a place for namelessness.” When it was time for her to touch him, for him to be truly seated within her, he desired nothing and no one around them. Just the pleasure and experience of her body and his.
If he wanted mere sexual gratification, he could have let her touch him. Yet he desired more than the brief release of orgasm. He hungered forher. All of her. Body and heart.
They sat side by side on the chaise. After resettling her skirts, smoothing them down, a rush of tenderness threatened to overwhelm him. He’d done everything he could to protect himself, but for naught. He had crossed a bridge. The battlements had been breached.
There was no going back. They were bound to each other now.
His hand settled possessively on her thigh. The night would be a long one, and all too brief.
Chapter 13
With Alex’s hand on her thigh, Cassandra felt every nerve alight. Normally, she would grow sleepy after achieving release. Not with Alex. Never had she felt more aware of every sight, every sensation.
She wanted so much more. This had merely been a prelude. Her body glowed with need and wanting him. A fuse had been lit, and she was ready to explode.
They sat side by side as though they were guests at an afternoon soiree. Cassandra couldn’t believe she’d just allowed Alex to touch her quim and bring her to orgasm in front of an audience. She was certain they’d had watchers, but couldn’t care. She’d wanted him too much to worry about making a spectacle of herself, lost utterly in the web of need they’d woven.
A woman strolled past and gave Cassandra a wink. Clearly, they’d drawn some attention to themselves.
There was no greater danger for a swindler than to let their emotions take command. But she’d been out of control ever since she’d seen him at the gaming hell. What had been a mere promise in Cheltenham had fully flowered in London. There was no protecting herself from it any longer.
She was his, and would be until fate tore them apart. And it would separate them—it was only a matter of when.
Her chest squeezed at thoughts of future doom. Yet it was unavoidable, like the sunrise.
“We’ve hours until dawn,” she said lowly. “How can we fill our time?”
“I don’t see anyone playing cards.” He craned his neck, looking into another adjoining chamber. But people didn’t come to the Orchid Club for games of loo or whist. Strange that they were conversing so normally, when just a few minutes ago, he’d brought her to ecstasy. Several times.
