Page 49 of The Duke's Tempting Widow
Weston hissed, his eyes snapping open as their kiss broke. “Careful, if we go down this path, I do not think that I will be able to stop.”
“Is this your attempt at being modest? You do not wish to deflower me before my wedding night?” Lydia teased, her breath gusting over the shell of his ear before letting her teeth close over the skin softly.
Perhaps he thought her a blushing bride, but she was more than happy to disillusion him from that notion. She had thought about all of the things that she wanted to do to him foryears.There was not a single surface in her house that she had not fantasized about him taking her on.
Weston’s grip on her hips tightened as he flipped the pair of them, leaving him on top of her as she was laid out on the couch, his weight settled between her legs. She could feel him there, hard and ready as he pressed against her thigh. It was just so tempting to rush ahead—though it was not as if they would not have plenty of times to explore one another’s bodies in the future. But, then again, she did not wish to waste a single moment of time with him. No matter how desperately she craved him.
Her hands traced the lines of his chest, the thin white linen shirt that he wore hiding almost nothing away from her as she memorized the lines of his stomach and the contours of his muscles. Her thighs had to stretch to accommodate him. It was such a delicious sensation as his lips found hers once more, stealing the oxygen from her lungs as he wrapped his arms around her once more, lifting the small of her back just enough to encourage her to arch up into him.
Her nightgown drifted up her thighs as she hooked her feet behind his legs, wanting more—needing to feel all of him. She had imagined so many aspects of this but the thing that she had not been able to anticipate was how desperately needy she was going to feel. With each kiss she felt just a little bit more intoxicated by him—would it ever be enough? Was it possible to become drunk off of another person?
Weston’s hand dropped to her knee, trailing along the curve of her leg, groaning softly at the feel of her. His thumb indented the hypersensitive skin of her inner thigh, massaging tight little circles higher and higher on her leg. It felt like the closer to her core that he became, the less steadily she was able to breathe. How did anyone ever do anything else when feelings like this were obtainable?
Lydia gasped softly as he found the slick wetness collected at the junction of her thighs, fingers stroking along her with expert deftness, just enough teasing to drive her mad. Lydia was not above begging, and would do so happily if she had any idea what to beg for. All she knew was that she wanted more.
“Weston,” She cried, his name was a sigh of pleasure on her lips.
“I think that might be my new favorite sound,” Weston groaned as his teeth scraped gently along the line of her jaw. He dipped a finger inside of her, curling softly and wresting another moan out of her, louder than the one before. “Though, that is a very close second.”
If the motion of his hand had not felt quite so good, she might have smacked him for his words. Then he added a second finger, and she realized that he could say anything that he liked so long as he kept touching her like that.
The sleeve of her nightgown dripped down her shoulder, and Weston took advantage of the opportunity, grabbing the fabric with his teeth and sliding it down far enough to expose her breast. He wasted no time at all in covering the newly exposed skin with his lips.
“So soft,” he groaned, his thumb twisting so that he could circle that sensitive bundle of nerves. “So responsive.”
It might not be praise, but on his lips, it certainly sounded like it.
He worked her body like he knew it better than she ever possibly could. Perhaps he had been just as absorbed withthoughts of her as she had with him. It felt sorightbeing there with him. Soon, she would never have to be parted from him again. The details could all be sorted later, for none of it truly mattered. He was hers, forever.
Lydia’s head tilted back, her breathing becoming more uneven as he worked her higher, and higher, her hips ground against his hand, chasing her pleasure as she gripped his arms with everything that she had, Her fingers slipped, fisting into the sleeves of his shirt and using that leverage like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to this world.
Teeth scraped against her nipple, pulling the peaked skin into his mouth and flicking the nub with his tongue. She was going to come undone, and she wanted to do it with him inside of her.
“Wes… please,” She breathed, unable to form the rest of the words needed.
“Yes, my dove?”
Oh, that voice dripped in power. He knewexactlywhat he was doing to her.
“More,” she breathed.
“Only because you look so stunning falling apart under me like this.” Weston agreed, and his fingers left her for onlya moment—she felt the absence keenly. She had never been so aware of just howemptyshe was without him.
Though, she did not have to wait long—the warm head of him pressed against her entrance. She did not need to look to know how endowed he was. She could not breathe at all as he started to ease into her slowly, the pinch of her body adjusting only uncomfortable for a moment.
Perfect. He was absolutely, utterly perfect.
Weston covered her lips with his, kissing her deeply and letting their tongues dance together. He kissed her like she was the only oxygen that he was ever going to need to breathe.
Then, he started moving—thrusting inside of her and almost making her slide up the couch with every movement. Hastily, she yanked and pulled his shirt up until it was gone, and she could finally feel every bit of his heated skin against her chest.
Her hips lifted to meet his, desperate for friction, to be joined with him—she was never going to have enough. Never.
“More,” she breathed again, seeing stars start to cloud the corners of her vision. “Mo—”
She could not speak as he gave her exactly what she asked for and then some. The way he filled her so completely wasintoxicating, robbed her of all rational thought as heat overrode every one of her other senses. There was nothing but him and the friction he brought inside of her, bending her legs at the knees so that he could reach a deeper angle, the head of him brushing against something inside of her that made her swoon.
“We—” Oh she was going to implode, and that wasbeforehe dropped his hand between them, he hardly had to brush over the swollen bud before she came clear out of her skin. She was fairly certain that she shattered with his name on her lips, perhaps an expletive that she was not even aware that she knew before this moment—a rush and a high unlike anything she had ever felt before.
