Page 64 of The Duke's Dream
Blushing, she bit her lip. “La Sylphide does not have body hair.”
Her legs were closed, and her mound tapered down in a perfect v shape. William groaned, his breathing shallow.
As if to protect herself from his gaze, she bent her knees.
It was imperative that he saw all of her.
A soft moan escaped her as he spread glitter over her pubic bone. He drew swirling circles, inching closer to her entrance.
“Open for me, Helene,” William said, voice hoarse.
His knuckles whitened where they gripped the bed.
He caressed her thigh, and she opened an inch. La Sylphide had the most alluring sex in human and mythological creation.
His mouth watered. His vision tunneled. He forced himself to blink, to breathe.
Desire ripped through him like fire through silk.
William hooked his hand under her knee and tugged, spreading her wide. Her gasp was a delicious prelude. When he traced her swollen outer lips, they opened like the petals of an orchid promising midnight secrets.
Panting, she caught his wrist. “You will tease me again, like in the closet, and then—”
“That was cruel of me. Shh, Little One, I will give you release.”
William kneeled between her legs and gave in to the worship he had been aching to offer. Her scent intoxicated him. He nuzzled her opening and lavished her sex with his tongue.
“Oh, this is—Oh.”
She arched her back, offering herself to him. William wanted to howl to the moon.
Blowing warm air over her, he circled her bud and then took it between his lips, sucking at it greedily.
Her taste—he had glimpsed it in the theater, but now he gorged on it, lapping at her with abandon. She moaned, her legs closing around his shoulders. William made music to her sex, slowing down, worshipful, and then faster, forcefully.
Her cheeks flushed with color, and her skin glistened under the moonlight.
With a cry, she spent—her belly shuddering, a flush giving her pearly skin a rose tint.
Smiling, he gave her a last, slow lick.
“The moon…” She sighed, her face a study of bliss. “Is lovely indeed.”
She lay atop the mattress, lips parted as if dreaming. A sylph not vanquished but made more luminous because of the pleasure William had given her.
He stood at the edge of the bed, drinking her in. His cock was as hard as tempered steel. He had worshipped her. He had taken his time.
But now—God help him—he wanted to bury himself in her and lose himself in her dream.
The beast stirred.
No. He would not scare her. He would keep his lust at bay. He would earn every sigh, every shiver.
William opened his trousers, freeing his erection.
He traveled the expanse of her body, her dewy skin gliding against his shirt. Chest to chest, dream met flesh, and his pulse spiked. She gazed up at him, eyes moist and open, trust shimmering in their depths. He would have her—but not as a man overcome by lust.
The violin rose outside, its melody tightening like a bowstring. The whole room hummed with want.
