Page 84 of The Good Duke
“B-both,” she panted. “I-It is c-clearly that I’m eager to begin so we might decide once and for all who is right?”
“Of course, that’s the only reason, sweetheart,” he said on a husky chuckle. Simon pressed his erection against the small of her belly.
Her hips immediately shifted and lifted against his cock.
His already rigid, painful erection grew harder.
With the same ferocity of a rampant lion mating with a hot, hungry lioness, Simon consumed Persephone’s mouth, devouring her.
“Open,” he commanded between each harsh, angry glide of their lips.
Persephone whimpered and instantly allowed him in.
“Good girl,” he praised.
There was nothing gentle about the embrace.
Simon slipped his tongue inside and dueled with that delicate, pink flesh that, just last night, had required he take himself in a fist and bring himself some relief from the memory of her.
He clutched her crisp muslin skirts and cotton petticoats and shoved them up around her waist. That noisy, naughty rustle of fabric only further fueled Simon’s lust.
Persephone’s too.
Moaning long and low, she dropped her head back.
The door rattled loud enough to alert any servant who may have been passing by. The whole of London could have paraded by, and he’d not have stopped.
“Aww, my sweet Persephone,” he crooned, nipping lightly at a birthmark in the middle of her neck. “You are still bored. Allow me to rectify that.”
He palmed Persephone between her legs.
She hissed some husky, undistinguishable utterance.
Emboldened by her frantic gyrations against him, Simon slipped two fingers, effortlessly, inside her sodden channel.
“Simon,” she keened, lifting into his touch.
“That bad?” he teasingly lamented.
“W-Worse,” she panted, frantically pushing her hips hard and fast.
Keeping his features even, he bowed his head with a mock solemnity. “Forgive me. I must better apply myself.” With that, Simon worked her harder.
He continued to stroke her over and over. In and out. He teased her nub, toying with her.
Sweat beaded at his brow.
His balls tightened. She wassowet.
Persephone lifted into his ministrations. Her thighs clenched and unclenched about the hand that pleasured her.
She was close.
Simon reached a hand briefly up and freed her breasts from the bodice of her gown. Lowering his head, he closed his mouth over one of those dusky, swollen peaks.
Persephone released a tortured whimper. She grabbed Simon’s hand and guided it back between her legs.
Simon laughed softly against her chest. “Ah, you want me to continue. I must be improving, sweet.”
