Page 95 of From Duke Till Dawn
“What do you want?” The cords of his neck stood out and he was hard everywhere.
She practically wailed with desire. “Fuck me, Your Grace.”
“Yes, my lady.” He angled her body slightly, then sank in all the way to the hilt.
The wall at her back kept her standing as he thrust into her. She held tight as he stroked the length of his cock in and out, building sensation, shaping ecstasy.
“Remember this,” he breathed hotly. “Remember me.”
“Always,” she gasped. “Forever.”
Her climax exploded, filling her with bright, heartbreaking pleasure. She cried out, her eyes pressing tightly as she lost herself in the wonder they created together.
He wasn’t finished. The moment her last tremors subsided, he pulled free from her body and led her to a nearby chaise. Soft and pliable with release, she allowed him to position her on the chaise so that she was on all fours, with her knees braced at the edge of the sofa. He stood behind her, aligning them, with his hands tight on her hips.
“Yes,” he hissed when she pressed her still-soaking quim against his hardness. He plunged into her in one thick thrust, feral sounds coming from deep within him. He took her like an animal, and she adored it. She watched over her shoulder as he fucked her, his body shining with sweat and need, his eyes mere slits as he looked at her, too, in this primal coupling.
Reaching around her, his fingers found her firm clit. He stroked her in tight circles, and pleasure climbed to unknown heights. She didn’t care who heard her scream with release, the orgasm as infinite as time itself.
Then he pulled back, and she felt the heat of his seed spilling on her. He made such gorgeous growls, so free, so lost to desire.
As she panted, still shaking with her climax, he leaned close and kissed her.
“Don’t forget me, Cassandra,” he murmured.
“Never,” she vowed.
Cassandra knew they were deliberately trying to create memories. Yet it didn’t matter thewhyof it, so long as she and Alex had plenty to draw from in the long years ahead.
They slid between the cool sheets of his bed and immediately found each other, holding close, flesh to flesh. Mouths met hotly, insistently, their tongues lapping and stroking. His hands were everywhere, shaping her, caressing as though recording the feel of her body. Because time was short. Because there was no future for them together.
All the while, she felt the words burning her throat.I love you.Words that couldn’t be spoken aloud, since they served no purpose other than to cause pain. They’d both suffered enough. Now was for pleasure. Tomorrow was unknown, but certainly lonesome.
Throughout the night, they made love. Sometimes they were tender and quiet. He slid into her gently and their motions were soft and slow. Release would come as delicately as a sigh. Other times, a hard need pushed them to verge on roughness, gripping and straining and moving with urgency. They made guttural, animal noises and cried out loudly with their climaxes. And all of it, all of it she adored, trying to remember this night for the rest of her life.
A considerate servant left a tray of food outside his door. She and Alex supped at midnight, feeding each other, kissing between bites. And then they made love again because they couldn’t keep from touching each other, and touch led to desire, which burst into a consuming flame.
Sometime in the small hours, they lay wrapped in blankets in front of the fire, watching the dance of the flames as they held each other.
He stroked her hair and she nearly purred. She soaked up every sensation, knowing they wouldn’t last.
She exhaled, ruffling the hair on his chest. Such good, manly hair. She’d miss running her hands through it. She’d miss everything about him. But a swindler from Southwark and a duke had no hope of anything but a temporary liaison.
“I don’t want to think about tomorrow,” she said softly.
“We won’t talk of it,” he answered.
She didn’t know what awaited her. Every road was open. Yet for all that, she wasn’t afraid. Maybe even hopeful. Terror didn’t claw at her when she thought of her limitless possibilities. She even felt a rise of anticipation like a beam of light falling on the floor, illuminating the darkness.
Yet sorrow was hope’s twin, living side by side. He’d take a wife someday. He was too responsible not to continue the line. And she couldn’t be around to witness that, to know that he visited some other woman’s bed, that he gave her children and they would be a family together. She couldn’t face that.
“Stay in London,” he suggested, wrapping some of her hair around his finger and releasing it in a curl. “An abundance of opportunities here.”
“Such as what?” she asked. She wouldn’t resume her life of swindling, and the city held so many dark memories. And—she couldn’t admit out loud—even in a place as large as London, it was too close to Alex, and that would be a torture, to have him so near and so unattainable.
“We... care for each other, you and I,” he said slowly.
Care forwas a paltry way to describe what she felt for him. But even now, after everything, she couldn’t bring herself to say the wordsI love you.They were too immense, too terrifying.
