Page 99 of The Duke With the Dragon Tattoo
The gasp that fled his throat as she freed him from his trousers was laced with pain.
She’d almost forgotten how intimidating his sex could seem, every bit as immense as the rest of him.
His body went splendidly rigid as she wrapped her hand around the thick base of him. Moisture suffused her mouth as she breathed over the length of him.
“Lorelai,” he groaned. “You don’t—”
The words were ripped from his throat by a harsh cry as her lips closed over the blunt tip in a vulgar parody of an openmouthed kiss.
She found she enjoyed the flavor of his flesh. Salt and musk and something so intoxicating she felt a bit light-headed.
Another desperate sound ripped through him. This one an overt plea.
Slowly, she slid her moist lips over the plush, velvet head of him and let her tongue ease down the ridge beneath until he met the back of her throat.
She felt his knees tremble, and was rocked by a wave of victorious feminine lust. She widened her jaw to its capacity and secured her lips over her teeth before dragging those lips as far as she could, leaving trails of moisture in her wicked wake.
Despite his desperate growls and incoherent curses, she refused to hurry. She rhythmically explored his shaft with her fingers as she sucked him deeper. Her tongue found the absorbing ridges of veins beneath the thin skin and swirled and darted about them.
His hand clamped behind her head. Strong, demanding fingers ruined her coiffure as they threaded through her hair and tightened to a fist.
Something slick and succulent welled from his sex, easing the glide of her lips.
Lorelai greedily enjoyed his broken breaths. The black inferno she found when she looked up into his eyes. Hebared his teeth like a wolf, and his grip on her hair became more dominant than demanding.
Did he want to play with power? The thought both excited and frightened her.
She braced a hand against his hips, which had begun slight, instinctive thrusts in time to her own rhythm. So, she changed her pace, drawing back so completely, he popped out of the seal of her mouth with a lewd sound.
“It would behoove you to behave.” She echoed his words from their wedding night against his sex, giving it a playful lick.
He let loose a string of blistering curses, not all of them in English as he, one by one, uncurled his fingers from her hair.
Satisfied, she latched onto him again, taking him as deep as she could, using her tongue to swirl around his engorged head as she let her hand resume its previous rhythm.
He said things. Lusty things. Demanding and degrading things. And they meant nothing, or everything. She couldn’t tell. She didn’t care. She’d become a glutton for this, for the illicitness of it. The transformative intimacy of it.
This was something she could give a man from whom everything had been taken.
He grew impossibly larger inside her mouth. Hotter. The vein at the underside of his sex began to pulse.
“Stop,” he gasped. The involuntary jerks and twitches of his hips became more frantic. Desperate. “If you don’t stop… I…”
She knew what he would do. He’d release the same substance he’d coated her womb with last night.
She was ready. She wanted it. Wanted him.
“No.” This time, when he clutched at her hair, he archedher neck back slightly, releasing his sex from her mouth once again.
“Wait,” she panted. “It’s all right. It’s—”
“I’ll tell you what it is,” he said darkly, as he dragged her off her knees and toward the bed. “It is my turn.”
The force of his raw passion unleashed upon her with the unrivaled strength of a sea gale, as he tossed her on the bed and yanked her skirts above her knees.
He growled his approval when he found her without undergarments.
Lorelai had no compunctions about borrowing a dress from the Countess Northwalk, but she drew the line at sharing intimates.
