Page 95 of Ne'er Duke Well
“Yes?” She sounded a little breathless, and it pleased him extremely.
“You’re stuck with us now. Lu and Freddie. The kitten. Me.” He brought the sponge beneath the surface of the water and used it to trace the dip of her waist, the soft curve of her buttocks. “This house. It’s yours, all of it. All of us. There’s no going back.”
“I don’t want to go back.”
“Good,” he said. “We might have to rename the cat.”
She laughed, and he slid the sponge over her hip bone, down the crease between her thigh and her sex. “You can—you can be the one to tell Lu,” she said. Her voice wobbled.
“I imagined you’d have better ideas about how to bribe her.” He trailed the sponge beneath her navel, down one leg and then back up. The sponge slipped from his fingers beneath the water as he caught the slippery curve of her thigh in his palm. Water splashed nearly to his shoulder.
“I—” He looked to her face, saw her throat bob as she swallowed. “I am—sure I could think of something.”
“Can you?” he said, coasting his palm up her thigh, laying it flat over her mound. “Perhaps I’m not applying myself.”
She made a soft sound and her hips twitched against his hand.
“God,” he said. “God, Selina.” He’d been trying to tease. To pet and coddle her. But emotion suddenly broke from his chest into his voice at her breathy, wordless sound of need.
Christ, he needed her too. He needed her so goddamned much.
“Stand up.” His voice came out low, harsh with demand.
When she stood, water cascaded down her body. He wanted to follow each rivulet with his hands, his mouth, his tongue.
He took her hips between his hands and urged her out of the bath, then pressed her down to sit on the ledge. Water pooled on the floor around their feet. He knelt between her thighs, and the water soaked his trousers, his knees pressing into the slippery marble.
He stroked up and down her thighs, his hands circling closer and closer to her sex. She breathed, a quick shuddering gasp, and he looked up at her.
She was paradise in the afternoon light. Gold, gold all over, her hair, her eyes—soft and heated everywhere he touched. He wanted to wrap himself around her, cover every part of her skin with his. He wanted to claim her, possess her, bury himself inside her wet heat and forget everything that hurt, forget everything except her body.
He kissed his way up her thigh, then let himself bite her, once, not too hard.
She tipped back her head, her hips canting up, her legs falling farther apart on either side of him.
He gripped the softness of her hips as he licked his way up her sex. She was hot and ready for him, pink and wet. He couldn’t help the groan that tore from his throat at her taste.
She was leaning back, her hips thrust forward, her hands locked around the marble ledge, and he dug his fingers into her soft smooth flesh. He held her in place as he licked, tasted, sucked on her clitoris. He held her fast, even as she writhed. He would not let her go.
He was all sensation now. Her voice, pleading and urgent. His sodden shirt, rapidly cooling and plastered to his skin. The heat ofher beneath his tongue. When she came, hard and trembling, he could feel the vibrations in his cock.
He was mad for her. He couldn’t think. He should wait—he should pause to let her breathe—but he couldn’t. He stood, unfastening his falls, fisting his cock as he looked at her, flushed and dazed.
“I need you,” he said hoarsely, and she smiled, a cat-like curl of her wide, lovely mouth.
“Yes. Please.”
He settled himself between her legs, and—Christ!—the asinine tub wasn’t quite high enough. He hitched her leg higher up his hip, pressing into her slick entrance, gasping at the tightness of her sheath.
He was saying something—expletives, probably—but he couldn’t hear his own words over the blood pounding in his ears. He grasped her thighs in his hands and dragged her toward him. She slid easily across the slippery marble ledge, and he slammed hard into her body.
She cried out, and fisted her fingers into his shirt for purchase. He did it again, and again, working her back and forth over his cock, her body sliding as if oiled over the tub’s wide edge.
This was what he’d needed. Selina, wild and breathless and alive, clinging to him as he held her, as he entered her, as he loved her with his body. Pleasure raked across his skin, roaring through him as he thrust into her tight, clenching heat.
He wanted her to come before he did, but the tight clasp of her channel, the sweet pleasure-pain of her fingers dragging against his shirt, the sound of her gasp each time he yanked her hard up onto his length—it was almost too much. He couldn’t hold on.
“Touch yourself,” he said. “I need you to come.”
