Page 138 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

“Need some help?”

She felt him—his warmth, his breath—at her back, and immediately relaxed. “I thought you would never ask,” she admitted as she leaned back into his welcoming embrace.

As he did once before, Griffin made short work of her undergarments, pausing to tease her and cup her breasts and pluck at her nipples until she was breathless in anticipation. She could feel his hardness along the cleft of her rear end, proving a) he was as ready as she, and b) he was somewhat ahead of her in the clothing-removal-process.

By the time the last of her clothing dropped at their feet, she was panting with need. During these last few weeks, as the banns were read, they’d lived as man and wife. Tonight wasn’t any different from all the other nights—and some afternoons, and most mornings—together.

Except…now, he was her husband.

In truth.

Their marriage had been blessed by the Church, and by the Crown, even. There was nothing—no one—to take this man from her.

When his fingers dipped into her curls to find her already dripping with need, he growled and pressed himself closer. “Ye want me? Say it, Flick.”

“Oh, God, yes,” she moaned, bending around his hand, hoping he’d take the hint and just plunge into her from behind. They’d discovered a few days ago that the bedposts made excellent handholds.

But instead, he spun her about, lifted her, and marched toward the bed. When he sat on the edge, he pulled her down into his lap. She moved a leg around his waist, then the other, then she sunk down atop his cock.

And they both sighed in relief.

And then in joy.

This.

This was where she belonged.

With a groan, Griffin wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck. Since the afternoon he’d first allowed himself to spend inside her—in this position—it had become one of their favorites.

She loved the way she could wrap her legs around his waist like this and hold him like this and rock gently back and forth atop his cock just like this.

But his mouth began to move across her skin, lower, kissing every available inch, his hands teasing her the way they had mere moments ago…and soon the gentle rocking wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed him.

And apparently, he felt the same.

With a growl, he lifted her and rolled them both to the side in one move. She was pinned under him but remained wrapped around him, and he took over.

Each time he plunged into her grasping core, he grunted her name, until it ran together in a sort of prayer: Flick Flick Flick. She found herself smiling as she closed her eyes and dropped her head back, reveling in the sensations rushing through her.

Then he shifted his weight to one hand, reached down and cupped her breast with his other. He lowered his mouth to it, and when he bit down on her nipple, she gasped and arched against him.

Her core squeezed, and he hummed, the feeling impossibly coarse and wonderfully warm. Then he nipped her again, and her pleasure burst over her.

As her inner muscles squeezed his cock, Griffin groaned her name once more, then shuddered and growled.

She was still flying high, her orgasm sweeping her higher and higher with each spasm, but she smiled to feel the rush of liquid warmth against her womb.

Yes.

Yes.

Later, after he’d cleaned them both, Griffin gathered her in his arms beneath the counterpane. She was content to nestle at his side, listening to the sounds of his breathing. She was tired, the events of the day nearly overwhelming…

But she wasn’t ready for sleep.

Slowly, Felicity became aware that his fingertips were caressing her stomach; just the smallest movements, enough to make her shiver.

“What are you thinking about?” she whispered into the night.

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