Page 31 of Her Duke at Midnight
“There’s one on my back,” he told her as he knelt over her on the sofa. “Another on the inside of my wrist.” He held up that wrist for her to see the tiny moon and star.
She cupped her hand around his and pulled his wrist closer, then pressed a warm kiss to the inked flesh.
“And your back?” she whispered. “I want to see.”
Adam bent his head and kissed her neck, then slid down to take one sweet, tight nipple between his lips.
Cecily gasped and then ran her fingers across the griffin inked on his right shoulder.
When he drew the tip of her breast into his mouth, she dragged her nails across the tattoo and undulated her hips beneath him.
She spread her legs, arching to get closer, but there was much more of her to taste.
Adam placed a kiss on her other breast and stroked his fingers across her stomach, then skimmed the damp hair at the apex of her thighs.
“Adam,” she gasped when he dragged his fingers across the soft red hair again. When she lifted to stroke herself against his finger, he slid inside her, relishing her heat.
She tested the feel of his finger, moving, arching, sliding until he was in deeper. He let her be his guide. Let her set the pace.
“More,” she said breathily.
He slid down her body farther, and she groaned in frustration.
“Patient, gorgeous Cecily.”
“I feel like I’ve waited forever for you,” she said in a husky tone that made his chest warm as if someone had just dropped a white-hot coal in next to his heart.
“I’m glad I found you.” He hadn’t known he’d been searching, hadn’t known he’d been missing this feeling in his life. But this woman sparked something in him. He liked her honesty, her willingness to speak of the pain she’d experienced. He loved her eagerness to take risks and tell him what she wanted. From her interest in the stars to her tenderness for a feline in need, he sensed the shape of her heart—that she was a lady of curiosity who cared deeply.
All he knew was that she’d brought a part of him to life.
He needed this to be good for her. Perfect. As perfect as he could make it.
Bending his head down, he kissed her thigh, then the other, then tasted her. One stroke of his tongue that she bucked against, her hands coming down to tangle in his hair.
She was sweetness and heat, and he savored all her passionate moans, the catch in her breath, the way her body tensed beneath him, preparing for her release.
“Adam.” She let his name out on a gasp, and that sense of warmth, of rightness, flared inside him. “You feel so good.”
He lifted his head. “You feel perfect, love.” Then he tasted her again, stroking his tongue inside her, aware of every shift of her body, every way she let him know what she liked, what felt good.
Then she arched her hips higher, stiffened for one brief moment, and melted against him. Her body rippled and trembled, and he looked up to see her face, to see those greenest eyes bright with bliss.
She reached for him then, tugging at his shoulders.
“I want to feel you,” she told him, her voice raspy low.
And God, did he want to feel her too.
He positioned his cock at her center—so warm, such sweet anticipation.
“Yes,” she said on a hiss as he slid inside.
Cecily moved with him instantly, eager to find a rhythm that was theirs alone. Adam wrapped a hand around her lush backside and tipped her closer, angling his body to stroke deep.
She scraped her fingers across the tattoo on his shoulder, her other hand reaching up for his neck. With a little tug, she pulled him in for a kiss.
He loved the way she marked him, led him, was not afraid to show him how she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her.
