Page 68 of Ne'er Duke Well
Once more he lowered his head. Once more his fingers moved, curling deep inside her. Once more he suckled her clitoris, softly at first and then harder. She was filled by his fingers, a thick delicious fullness, and she had never felt this, not when she’d explored her own body, not even when she’d touched herself and thought of him.
This time when her climax arced up, higher and higher, he didn’t stop. He kept on, merciless and unrelenting, as her hips bucked, her heel digging into his back, her eyes going blind as pleasure burst through her, wave after wave of senseless, incomprehensible bliss.
Finally, slowly, he pulled his head away. Gently he resettled her foot on the ground. She’d lost her slipper, she thought dazedly, as her foot came into contact with the marble floor, cool through her stocking. Somehow even that felt erotic—the chill of the stone contrasting with the heat of Peter’s body as he eased himself up and surrounded her.
He was talking to her, and the sounds slowly resolved into words she understood.Lovelyandbeautifulandgood.
Her mind was clearing. “All right,” she whispered, sliding her hands around his waist. “You weren’t wrong.”
His eyes were still dark, even though his expression was easy, undemanding. “I’ll take your forfeit, then,” he said, and took only her mouth.
He was gentle. So gentle, his lips so soft, and she—she tastedherselfon his lips. She’d read of that, the taste of a woman’s wetness, of a man’s seed. She hadn’t expected the dark pleasure it would set off in her. She licked at his lips, wanting more, and his mouth came open, his fingers fisting in her hair.
She felt, rather than heard, him groan. She swallowed the soft exhalation of his breath and felt herself suddenly freed by it.
He was mad for her.That’s what he had said. She caught up his shirt, drawing it from his breeches and thanking his entirely irregular valet for letting him wander the house in nothing but his shirtsleeves and silk wedding breeches. His skin was shockingly hot under her palms, and she slid her hands wonderingly up the lean, muscular planes of his back, the wings of his shoulder blades, then down, inside the band of his breeches and around the tense curve of his buttock.
His hands tightened in her hair, and she felt him draw her head back. “Selina,” he said slowly. “Let me take you to our bedroom.”
Almost she said yes. She could picture it—Peter bracing himself above her as she lay on her back in his bed.
But here was the recklessness. She had it inside her, she had always had it, and he made her feelrightjust as she was.
“No,” she said instead. “Here.” Then she brought one palm forward to cup his shaft.
His eyes went black, his face almost pained. “Selina—”
She brought her other hand around, slowly, as he had, letting her nails glide along his skin. He shuddered, the muscles of his belly tightening, and she felt a matching pull at her center.
She wanted her fingers around him. She had seen the pictures, could imagine how his cock would rise between her hands as she stroked him up and down.
But—blast! No book had mentioned how to unfasten his breeches. She fought with his falls.
“Stupid,” she muttered. “Odious garment.” She tugged harder, her fingers brushing clumsily against his shaft. Buttons, fabric, and then somehow another set of hidden buttons beneath.
He buried his head in the curve of her neck and laughed.
“Don’t you dare—”
“Selina,” he mumbled, his face pressed against her skin. “I amthanking Providence for this delay, so that I might not spend in my smalls.”
“Oh.” That, she understood, was considered a shameful thing. And yet the idea of him so completely undone…
His breeches were loosened. Her fingers were inside his smallclothes. His shaft was hard as the marble beneath her feet, but hot, curving against her palm. She curled both hands around his length, and he gave a muffled cry into her shoulder.
Curiously, she traced the broad head with her thumb, gathering the moisture that beaded at the tip, spreading it in a circle.
“Now,” he said hoarsely, “we should go upstairs.”
“No.”
“The… door is open.”
“Then it is a good thing you have no staff.”
He took her face in his hands then, looked hard into her eyes. “You want this—here?”
“I want you here.”
