Page 17 of When the Duke Comes to Play…
“I admit, it’s reassuring to hear that I am higher than the cat in your estimation.” Was it her imagination or was his voice unsteady?
Barnabus/Mr. Bibbles loosed an indignant meow.
“Oh, indeed,” she replied with even severity.
“However…I’ve never been partial to fish…” he admitted, closing his eyes and savoring her touch.
“Duly noted.” Ariel sniggered lightly. “I wonder…what else you might like,” she added thoughtfully. Though they’d met for several trysts at that point, Ariel had yet to have the opportunity to do some exploration of her own. She decided to take her chance because there would likely not be another.
Ariel tentatively pressed her lips to the pulse in his neck, earning her a deep rumble of approval. His thick, dark lashes fanned across his cheeks when his eyes fluttered closed. Charles held himself remarkably still, fists balled at his sides as if he was terrified she would stop if he so much as twitched. She made a little testing nip at his throat and she was enraptured by the catch in his breathing. Charles’ body grew tauter and tauter with each garment she removed from him.
Unwinding his cravat made him groan.
Sliding the fitted sleeves of his coat from his arms made him shiver.
Untucking his shirt and lifting it over his head, trailing her nails down the hard planes of his chest dusted with crisp hair made the lean ridges of his abdomen clench.
His breath trembled as he watched her undo the fastenings for the falls of his breeches.
His manhood was already thick and heavy with arousal, jutting proudly from a nest of dark curls, bobbing slightly and begging for her attention.
Ariel nibbled her lip and dropped to her knees in a puddle of skirts before she could overthink her desires.
“Ariel,” Charles hissed.
She shushed him and admired the thick, smooth head of his member, the small pearl of moisture beaded at its tip, the soft sac beneath it. Ariel gently ran her fingers along the thick length and traced the veins beneath its velvet softness. Her fingers couldn’t quite meet when she wrapped them around its girth, this part of him that brought her so much incandescent pleasure. Every inch of Charles brought her pleasure…from his smile to his rare, husky laugh, his hands, his lips, his tongue, his teeth, his sultry eyes, his smoky voice with its slightly foreign accent, the way he worshiped her body and made her feel more beautiful than she’d ever felt in her life with nothing more thana glance. He had done nothing but give her pleasure since the moment they’d met, and she wanted to return the favor.
Ariel made several testing strokes with her fist, and she was immediately rewarded by a guttural groan that set her skin aflame. The juncture of her legs began to ache and weep in anticipation; her nipples were painfully taut and sensitive against the fabric of her bodice. The fingers of her free hand ached to reach beneath her skirts and try to relieve some of the growing tension there; the thought of touching herself while also pleasuring Charles made her grateful her trembling legs were securely on the floor.
Recalling just how much she enjoyed it when Charles used his mouth to tease her, she decided to place a tender kiss on the blunt head of his sex. The tip of her tongue flicked out to taste the salty drop of dew just there, and she savored it.She committed every sound, texture, flavor, and scent to her memory and vowed to hold it there until her last breath.
She seized her opportunity to peruse his body, to learn what Charles liked and how to touch him. She took great pride in making him—the large, intimidating, American-born duke—tremble with need, to ache and burn for her, teasing him until he could take it no more.
A sound unlike no other she’d heard before rumbled from deep within Charles’ chest. In one swift show of strength, he hiked her in his arms and tossed her on his plush mattress in a pile of fluttering skirts. Her hair flew free from its pins, obscuring her vision. Before she could react, however, he dove upon her like the ravenous beast she’d unleashed. Charles pinned her to the bed, spread her legs wide, and took his turn to worship her with his mouth and fingers curled just so.
It didn’t take long for him to bring her to a shuddering release, but he was far from done with her. Ariel was still drowning in the pounding waves of her climax when he reared back and entered her in one swift thrust. He filled her again and again, pounding into her body at a relentless pace, cradling her in his strong arms as if to protect her and possess her all at once. He pressed his lips to her ear and filled her mind with a constant stream of words both tender and titillating. He described how good she felt, how she drove him mad, how he needed her and never wanted this to end.
Charles’ soul poured forth from his lips as he arched and strained above Ariel, desperate to hold off until she achieved another orgasm. He relished the way she could take all of him, how she so obviously enjoyed his power, her strength as she wrapped herself around him and met his thrusts. He didn’t want to pull out of her body; he wanted to claim her with his seed.
He didn’t want this to end.
He didn’t want to leave her.
The realization struck Charles with the startling intensity of an obsidian arrowhead. But, as wrong as it was, something about it felt more right than anything he’d ever experienced.
He loved the sound of Ariel’s laughter.
He adored the way she scrunched her nose when she giggled, but only when it was just the two of them.
He appreciated her candor, her bravery, and, especially, how she appeared to be the only person in England who saw him as a person and not just a title he had accidentally inherited.
Charles gave himself over to the sensations of their joined bodies and, when she came again, he kissed her deeply, claiming her in the only way he could as his member throbbed its release against her supple thigh.
ChapterSeven
The days ticked by with Charles’ departure creeping ever closer, a thing they both refused to acknowledge through unspoken agreement. Ariel and Charles continued their dalliance in secret, meeting as often and for as long as they were able. Despite this private closeness, however, their public interactions were far more subdued.
For every social event one of them was invited to, he or she would drop hints until the hostess felt it had been her idea all along to ask the Duke of Ryton or Lady Ariel and the Earl of Darby to the gathering.
