Page 71 of Never a Duchess
“You’re in England now,” she teased, the nervous tremor in her voice making her all the more irresistible. “We make problems to test our resolve.” She pinned him to the sofa with her gaze, lust’s fires licking him. “And I mean to pleasure you, Your Grace. Thoroughly.”
She reached inside the fall, her dainty fingers settling around his hard cock. Her shocked gasp and wide eyes had him throbbing against her soft palm.
“Good heavens. You’re much larger than I expected.”
He clenched his jaw against a bolt of pure lust.
Hellfire! This woman would be the death of him.
“It’s a testament to how much I want ye.” He closed his eyes against the gentle glide of her hand. She was beyond magnificent. “I’m hard every time we kiss. The impudent devil almost tore my trousers when I pushed my fingers inside yer snug channel.”
“Hmm.” Her throaty hum carried the teasing notes of her own arousal. “That’s a problem easily solved. You’ll change into a kilt before you have me tonight.”
“Have ye?” The words strained against his throat. His cock strained against the slide of her curious fingers. He covered her hand and showed her how to pump him from root to tip. “Ye hope for a repeat of what happened in the theatre?”
“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes bright with wonder as she stroked him. “And I want you to take my virginity.”
What the devil!
His cock swelled in celebration, his hot flesh pulsing, his hips jerking in a primal dance. Devil take it. He was going to come.
“Dinnae throw away something so precious.”
Did she think he would make love to her and not marry her?
“I’m living, living for today, living for these newfound feelings.” With her free hand, the minx tugged his shirt from the waistband, pushed her fingers beneath to caress his abdominal muscles. “I need you. I trust you to keep our liaison a secret. But I want you to seduce me. I want to watch you as you move inside me, pushing deep. I want to feel your weight crushing me. I want all of you, Callan Maclean.”
Holy Mother Mary!
His orgasm burst through him with such force his hips bucked as he moaned her name and spurted his seed over her hand.
She watched, mesmerised, her rosebud lips grinning in satisfaction. “Goodness. There’s something quite invigorating about having a virile man at my mercy.”
He was struggling to master his wits and his breath. “Use me at yer will.” He needed her with him in the Highlands. Still, whenever he thought of England, he would remember this moment.
Indeed, while he used the linen square from his coat pocket to wipe her hand clean, he thought about remodelling his castle. Amid chambers steeped in Maclean history, he would make space for an elegant English drawing room, and a delectable English wife.
ChapterThirteen
Miss Ware watched Callan tuck himself away and button his breeches. If she continued wetting her lips like she might devour him, he’d be hard again in seconds.
“Of course, that doesn’t make us even.” The minx referred to their interlude at the theatre. “Though considering the size of you, I’d likely choke before you reached the pinnacle of your pleasure.”
Callan coughed in response—almost choked on a mix of excitement and surprise. “Today, I detested England. Tonight, I cannae bear to leave. Still, I couldnae let anyone but my wife indulge in such a wanton pleasure.”
“Good luck finding a duchess who’s willing,” she teased. “While spying, I’ve heard arguments to suggest many ladies find it a chore.”
Callan considered her amusing response.
She had told him about the greatest tragedy of her life, and this game was a means of settling her emotions, numbing the pain. He would play for a while, but he wanted to know her deepest desires, her darkest secrets. He wanted to strip her bare and soothe all her woes.
“Some ladies will do anything for such a prestigious title.” He was not short of offers. He could wed the daughter of a duke, could have any debutante of his choosing. “Still, I’ve decided to follow Denton’s lead and nae marry until I’m fifty.”
“Fifty? Is siring an heir not a pressing matter?”
He could not bed one woman while desperate for another. He could not beget a son who grew up knowing his father despised his mother. “There’s always a distant cousin willing to take the helm.”
She chuckled. “We’ll make a libertarian of you yet, Your Grace.”
