Page 193 of The Good Duke
“I am indebted to you, Pruitt,” Simon said solemnly. “Not only for ensuring Persephone did not suffer a scandal, but for having urged me to hire her when I would have sent her away.”
Pruitt stared at him for a long moment.
Simon stilled—and then it hit him. “You knew all along…? How…?”
“I knew you were enamored of the lady and that she was, of course, your future duchess?” Pruitt supplied. “Only from the moment you came marching into the club like the world had been flipped upside down.” He thumped Simon between his shoulder blades. “Now, go. I’ve had quite enough fun at your expense.”
Not allowing Simon to offer any further thanks, Lord Kit turned to Persephone, who’d remained quiet throughout their exchange.
He sketched a deep bow. “Your Grace, as much as it pains me to leave your enchanting company, I do believe it will cost me Greystoke’s friendship if I remain a minute longer.”
“Lord Kit,” she said, her voice husky. “Thank you.” Her chocolate brown irises glittered with tears. “For everything.”
Pruitt winked, and then unlike the infernal length of time he’d made a bother of himself, he took himself off quick.
After he’d shut the door behind him, a blessed quiet enveloped the room—and Simon and Persephone at last found themselves alone for the first time on their wedding day.
With a heated gaze, Simon, on sleek, panther-like steps, rejoined Persephone. “Well, my duchess,” Simon murmured when he reached her side. “We find ourselves—”
Persephone took Simon by his lapels, climbed up onto her tiptoes, and kissed him long and deep on the mouth.
“Alone,” he breathed.
She parted her lips, and he all too happily accepted that invitation to sweep inside and taste her, lick her.
Sinking his fingers into Persephone’s saucily curved arse, he dragged her between his legs and pressed his hard cock against the flat of her belly.
All the while they mated with their mouths like the savage animals they were together, Simon kneaded her lush buttocks—filling his palms with that sensuous flesh.
“How bad of me to neglect your beautiful breasts, my love.” Simon’s ragged breaths ruined his attempt at blitheness.
His fingers shook with the need to have those mounds in his hands. At last, the abundant, cream-white flesh spilled into his palms. He weighed her glorious orbs, bringing them together, and tweaking her enormous nipples until tears spilled down her cheeks.
Hungry little moans spilled from Persephone’s mouth, and Simon swallowed each delicious, incoherent utterance.
“Simon,” she keened like a wounded animal.
The evidence of her desire for him sent his lust spiraling to fever lengths.
“I know what you want, love,” he said harshly. “I know how you like it.” Just as he knew how she liked to be spoken to when fucking. “I’m going to eat your quim, my queen.”
With a hungry whimper, she rolled her hips in increasingly frantic undulations.
Simon didn’t relent. “I’m going to have you on your knees and my cock in your mouth,” he promised silkily.
He bit her neck hard.
Tossing her head back, Persephone cried out.
“And you’ll love it so much, won’t you?” he rasped. At the image he painted, sweat beaded at his brow. “You’ll love having me fuck your beautiful mouth.”
“Yes, Simon.” She gyrated, twisting and squirming and moving against him in a desperate bid for relief.
“I’m going to make love to you, Seph.” His vow emerged gravelly. “And when I’m done, I’m going to take you again and again. We’ll take our time, but, first, we both know we need this right now.”
Crying, Persephone nodded frantically. “Yes,please,” she again implored him.
“Begging me like the good girl you are,” he gutturalized.
