Page 104 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

“Flick,” he murmured, against her skin.

“Yes!” she gasped, rocking forward.

He needed no other permission, his thumbs pulled apart her lips. He couldn’t see her weeping core but he could feel it. Holy Christ, he could feel it. With a muttered curse, he dragged the pad of one thumb along her cleft, then found her clitoris.

She damn near came off his lap.

The sound she made was half-desperation, half-anger, and she fumbled for his trouser buttons. He was happy to sit back and allow her to release his aching cock, and when she took it in her slender fingers, his breath hissed from between his teeth.

She stroked him, the angle awkward, as Griffin continued to tease the bud of her pleasure. But when she reached the head of his cock, she swiped her thumb across the bead of pre-cum and lifted it to her tongue…and he bloody well lost his mind.

With a growl, he moved his hands to her waist, lifting her once more. She was as eager as he was, and angled his cock for the easiest penetration.

As she lowered herself atop it, they both exhaled.

It was like coming home.

He opened his eyes and met hers.

Good Christ Almighty, she was staring into his soul.

Griffin raised his hands to cup her jaw, his thumbs brushing along her cheeks. “Felicity,” he murmured. She felt so good, so right. It was all he could manage. “Felicity.”

“Yes.”

It was all she said. It was all she needed to say.

She shifted her weight to her knees, tucked at his side, pulling his cock from her tight, warm core. When she sat back down, they both groaned.

Her movements were incremental, but so very right. He held as still as he could, allowing her to take the lead, to move the way she wanted. Instead of thrusting, her hips were rotating, making small circles as she came down atop him again and again.

It was, he decided, the most fooking erotic thing he’d ever seen.

Felt.

Experienced.

This angle meant his cock was fully encased, upright, its tip brushing against the spot inside her, right behind her clitoris, which seemed to drive her mad. Each time Felicity was fully seated upon him, she sucked in a breath. As her movements became faster and faster, more and more desperate, those breaths turned into pants, which turned into keens.

And Griffin resisted the urge to shut his eyes at the unimaginable torture. His ballocks ached with the need to thrust into her, to claim her. But he wanted her to have the power here, wanted her to claim him.

He was so very, very close.

Then she sank down hard, forcing his cock so deep inside her he thought he might be touching her womb, and she froze. He saw her eyes widen, then squeeze shut. And as her inner muscles tightened around him, he grinned.

“Aye, that’s the way, lass,” he murmured.

But as her core spasmed around him, she leaned forward and claimed his lips—

Christ.

He came.

He came hard.

His orgasm startled a gasp out of him, and he clutched her tighter, as her core milked his cock for all it was worth.

Dimly, he was aware he hadn’t pulled out, hadn’t taken precautions against filling her with his seed. And he was fooking proud, by God.

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