Page 9 of The Duke
He didn’t explore or caress her body again. Merely delved into the fine nest of hair between her legs and stroked into her folds with merciless fingers. Imogen gasped and trembled, but it was he who sucked a labored breath through his clenched teeth.
His other hand held her fast, again gripping the flesh of her hip while his rough-skinned fingers turned slick as her body coated them in desire. A lightning-quick pleasure speared her as he trailed past a cluster of sensation. He didn’t linger there, but slipped over and through the folds with light, playful gestures.
Her belly became tight as an aching, pulsing void of need opened up within her womb. Unbidden, her hips followed his clever fingers, seeking after that first, arousing stroke again with undulating demand. He fondled and separated her, teased and tantalized her, all the while keeping her mouth occupied with his questing tongue.
Her breath came in gasps, then pants, and then little mewls of wordless delight as he finally stroked at the right spot again, and once again, until her fingernails bit into his shoulders as an insistent, burning pleasure began to seize upon her.
“Cole?” she whimpered, clutching at him, almost afraid of whatever it was that locked every muscle from her sternum down into uncontrolled pulses.
“Yes,” he growled into her mouth. “Fucking come for me. That’s it.”
The gathering storm broke upon her with scream-provoking intensity. Tears sprang to her eyes as she curled around him, her thighs clenching his as though she rode a powerful steed rather than wave after wave of unimaginable pleasure. Convinced there was magic in his hands, she opened her mouth to tell him so, but all that escaped her was a low cry. Or maybe nothing. She couldn’t tell. Or remember. Or care.
When it became too much, too intense, she bit down on the meat right below where his neck met his shoulder and he made that sound again. That dark, savage groan that became a growl in a chest as large and cavernous as his.
But he seemed to understand, as his ministrations gentled until his fingers only whispered across that bud of sensation in a tremor-inducing caress before letting his hand fall away.
“Christ, you’re exquisite,” he panted, his eyes a little unfocused, his skin flushed and his body one long knot of tension. “You’re ready,” he gritted out. “Now.”
In one graceful move he lifted her, rotated them both, and tossed her onto her back. His body was so big on top of her, pressing her legs almost uncomfortably wide. She wanted to tell him to wait, to give her a moment, but he distracted her with another deep, long kiss.
He released unintelligible words into her mouth, and Imogen knew them to be harsh and filthy. His eyes had glazed over completely now, as though his wits had deserted him, leaving her with nothing but this beast of lust and need.
He lifted himself, arched his neck, and on a smooth, brutal thrust, he was inside her, ripping through the feeble barrier of her virginity as though it didn’t exist, and separating muscles unused to intrusion. The sound he made was more roar than growl, and drowned out her whimper of protestation. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she bit down on her cheek hard enough to taste blood by the time he’d ceased his endless plunge.
Because of his height she buried her face in the crook of his neck, doing her best to breathe through the pain. To hide her tears, lest she displease him.
“Jesus,” he cursed. “Tight.”
He slid away and pushed forward again, this time gaining more ground, a hot, searing brand against her untried flesh. She could feel her body trying to adjust, molding around him.
“Too… tight…” he panted. His movements shortened, became less graceful and more frenzied. Her sex felt like a knot of tension and fire, though something beneath the discomfort whispered at the pleasure his hands had introduced her to. She wondered, as her body began to relax, as his penetrations became shallower, if that incomparable bliss would come for her again.
Ifshewould come again.
With a low moan, his body seized and he pulled out of her, still pumping his sex between their bodies before great tremors rolled over him, forcing his head back with what looked like racking, almost painful convulsions as warm, wet moisture coated her hip.
Imogen turned her head to look away, feeling like an intruder on an intimate moment, even though that moment was her own. She watched the muscles of his arm, braced beside her head, as they clenched and flexed, forcing vivid veins to the surface of his straining skin. She’d never seen something so beautifully sensual in her entire life.
As with every violent storm, the aftermath hung heavy and silent as they each willed their bodies back under their control. He held himself above her, still but for his chest heaving against hers. She thought he’d whispered something like “Never.” But the word was lost to the darkness.
It was done. What was left of her innocence had been taken. No, not taken.
Bought.
Imogen decided that the sacrifice of her virginity had been ultimately worth it. A few seconds of pain in trade for an entire year of freedom. For an entire lifetime of loneliness. For the safety of her sister.
For twenty pounds sterling.
Tenderly, Trenwyth bent to kiss her, and some of her dark thoughts dissipated. There had been pleasure too. Illicit, unimaginable pleasure wrought by his brutal, gentle, masculine, skilled hands.
With a groan, he lifted himself off her and reached for a cloth hanging from the basin. It was red, like everything else in this room, and would hide the blood of her virginity. Cleaning himself without bothering to look, he handed a second one to her, respecting her privacy as she wiped the leavings of his pleasure from her hip, grateful he’d taken precautions against pregnancy.
It wouldn’t do to have the first child of the Duke of Trenwyth born the bastard of a prostitute.
She expected him to leave then, to dress and abandon her to the task of pulling herself together.
Instead, he prowled, completely nude, back into the bed. He reached for her and unhooked the stays of her corset in a few rough, jerking motions.
