Page 106 of How to Love a Duke in Ten Days
Someday, he would.
His cock was as hot as a branding iron in his hand as he pumped his fist down the length once more, and again.
How perfect she would look sinking down upon the full, pulsing veins of his shaft. Those tight, female muscles would resist him at first, but he’d ease his way inside until she held him to the hilt.
His hips thrust into his hand in a disappointing parody of what he truly craved.
He savored the intimate scent of her as he moved his fist harder. Faster. Working the velvet skin of his shaft around the unyielding rod beneath.
As long as he lived he’d crave this succulent female flavor. Hers alone. She was his to dine on as he pleased.
One man didn’t deserve such fortunes.
Eight… More… Days…
The climax began as a burn in his spine, spilling down his entire frame like an avalanche. Inevitable. Unstoppable. Overpowering.
As the shocks of release became surges, he made a sound only an animal could have. Bringing her drawers down to his hips, he spilled liquid heat on the snowy-white linen. The sight of it inflamed him further as pulse after pulse was pulled from his very core for such a length of time, he wondered if it would ever cease.
Finally, the grip of his bliss abated, and he folded forward in blind relief, resting his forehead against the door with a thump.
Alexandra’s humming died away at the sound, and soft footfalls padded toward the door. “Piers?” A tentative invitation painted his name, and his still-pounding heart accelerated. “Have you returned to… would you like to come in?”
Trying to regain a semblance of wit, he reached for the door.
And threw the lock.
“Not tonight, pet,” he managed.
She hesitated. “But aren’t you… you’re in need of… you still have your third prize to claim, if you are so inclined.”
Despite what he’d just done, his cock twitched at the offer.
Piers placed a hand against the cool wood of the door, picturing her doing the same.
Oh, he’d claim his prize. Of course, he would. But not until he could regain some of his lost self-control. Not until the scent and sight of her didn’t whip him into an unprecedented, animalistic monster. Until he could be other than this rutting beast he’d only just become, aching to mount her like a prized mare.
Wondering who’d mounted her first.
That thought was enough to push him away from the door. There would always be a barrier between them, wouldn’t there? A secret. A past.
Hers. His. Someone else’s. It didn’t matter.
“Get some rest,” he rumbled, battling a hollow ache in his chest.
“If… if you’re certain.” Was it disappointment or relief in her careful voice?
He couldn’t tell through the door.
Berating himself, he promised that he could no longer toy with desire without giving in to it completely. He had to wait. Had to keep his hands, his mouth, all the parts of him that hungered for her to himself.
“Good night, Doctor.” He injected as much kindness as he could into his voice before he went to the basin to wash, assuming she’d shuffled off to bed.
“Good night, husband,” she called softly, pausing once more. “And… thank you.”
What exactly had she thanked him for? he pondered as he undressed, washed, and settled into his cavernous, lonely bed.
Her pleasure? His company?
