Page 69 of Ne'er Duke Well
He muffled a curse with a kiss, vehement and sudden, before breaking away. “Slow,” he said, as if to himself, as he looked down at her small, high breasts, at his cock caught in her hands. “I will take you so slowly.” He pressed her back into the wall, lifting her leg around his waist. “I will make you ready for me. Wet and desperate and greedy for my cock.”
She wasn’t shocked by the frank speech—she had read those words and more, much more, much coarser. But shewasshocked by how his words thrilled her. Her nipples tightened beneath his gaze; heat and moisture slicked her sex. His palm cupped her mound.
“Do you like that?” His breath was hot in her ear. “When I tell you what I’m going to do to you?”
“Yes,” she gasped. Her fingers tightened on his shaft, as if to draw him closer, and he hissed.
Not in pain. She was certain of that. She stroked him again, a little clumsy, a little rough.
He answered her in kind, the heel of his hand firm against her clitoris as he worked two fingers inside her. She rocked against him helplessly, seeking more and somehow more.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s right. Take what you need.”
She didn’t know how she could be so close to climax again, yet she could feel it building already. She tossed her head, almost frantic. Ithurt, didn’t he understand—sheneeded—
And then, suddenly, she felt the pressure of his cock at her entrance, firm and insistent, and she whimpered with relief. He was talking again—wetandsweetandgood—but she was well beyond hearing. She tightened her leg around his waist, trying to urge him on, push him faster and deeper into her body.
More words—fuck yes please—and then he was easing into her, pressing her harder against the wall, canting her hips up as he worked in and out, stretching her body to receive him.
She had read about virginity, about the maidenhead, but she felt no such barrier as he moved patiently inside her. Only a hint of burning as she strained to take him, a pressure-pain so deep inside her she thought she might break apart.
She was clinging to his shoulders, and she felt his muscles work as he slid a hand between their bodies and found the sensitive nerves just above where he entered her. His fingers were deft and sure, stroking in time to the beat of her pulse. His other hand braced against the wall beside her head, holding them both steady as he withdrew. Slowly. Then entered her again. Less slow. Less steady this time.
Undone. They were both coming undone.
It was—she had never expected this. The throb of her heartbeat, the thrust of his cock inside her body, the rhythmic workingof his fingers that sent her shuddering and gasping into a bright nowhere.
His hand withdrew after her climax broke, then fastened on her hips, lifting her onto her toes as he thrust into her again, faster now. His breath sawed out unevenly, and still he held her, pinned against the wall and tilted up for his access, his pleasure.
Only one word now, her name, again and again, wild and uncertain, until finally he withdrew, shuddering, and spilled his seed against her thigh.
He dropped his head again into the curve of her neck, his fingers loosening their hold on her buttocks. A bead of sweat slipped down between her breasts. A cool whisper against her heated skin.
Peter lifted his head and then blinked. “Oh hell.”
She angled her head to see what he was looking at, but couldn’t quite make sense of it. “What is it?”
“Seems I’ve put my hand through Great-uncle Francis.”
“What?”
She wriggled away, twisting to see—
His hand, which she’d thought had been braced on the wall beside her head, had gone straight through a tightly wrapped oil portrait. A man’s dour face drooped pathetically next to Peter’s thumb.
“Oh,Peter!That was aLawrence—it should have been in the Academy!”
He grinned down at her, curls spilling over his brow. Something uncoiled, loose and warm in her belly.
“Somehow,” he said, “I don’t regret it.”
Chapter 18
Dearest Duchess!
I knew you had atendrefor Peter Kent. I knew it! Ha! (Clermont says I am waking my cousins with my cackling. In truth he is only surly because he was wrong.)
—from Lady Faiza Greenlaw, Countess of Clermont, to Her Grace Selina Kent, Duchess of Stanhope
