Page 65 of The Duke and the Runaway Bride

The Duke pounced on her like a wild animal. He pinned her to the seat, pressing his body against hers, taking her lips in a hot kiss. There was nothing slow or deliberate this time. Tongues reached out, battling for dominance.

Beatrice was conflicted. She wanted to make love to him, but she wanted to battle him, too—see what she could do to him. She fought with her tongue, pushing his back, but he was too strong. His tongue pushed into her mouth, and she accepted it.

Her hands moved as if they had a life of their own, moving straight to the bulge in his trousers. She wanted to pull him out, but it was not the time. She rubbed him over the woolen fabric, wanting to feel him inside her again.

The Duke used his hands, too, running them over her torso. With the carriage bumping, it felt like half a dozen hands were on her.

They moaned deeply as they kissed.

Each bump of the coach pushed the Duke up and down, sailing on an ocean that was Beatrice. Beatrice moved her hands from his stiffening manhood to his back, clawing at his coat. She wanted to remove his clothing but didn’t dare do it in the coach.

Edwin kissed her neck, and she arched her back, moaning again. A slight breeze cooled her, and she could feel the moonlight filtering in to bathe her in its silver glow. The Duke kissed the other side of her neck, and she felt her body tremble and become weak.

Beatrice did not know when they reached the estate, but Edwin did, and he ordered the driver to take the coach around to the back. He did not want anyone to see them in their state of arousal.

The coach came to a stop, and Edwin poked his head out of the window. “The coast is clear,” he whispered.

Beatrice giggled.

Edwin took her hand and helped her down from the coach, pulling her along behind him as they raced for the rear of the building. They ran inside and stormed up the rear staircase as if they were infiltrating the manor. Edwin poked his head around the corner to check that the coast was still clear, and then they made a run for it over the last thirty yards.

He opened his bedroom door, and they rushed inside, then he closed it behind him. The two of them stumbled toward the bed and collapsed onto it, laughing uncontrollably.

Tears of mirth rolled down Beatrice’s cheeks. When they ceased, Edwin’s face came into focus right before her. He placed a hand on her cheek and stroked it. There was a moment of clarity and calm, the point when a wave receded and there was stillness. Then, it crashed forward.

They clawed at each other, both fighting to remove the other’s clothing. Beatrice finally got his coat off, but she became distracted, running her hands over his shirt instead of unbuttoning it. His muscles were so tight below that she could not stop herself from fondling him.

It gave Edwin the chance to advance in the battle, untying the laces at the back of her dress and then lifting the dress over her head. He did such a good job that the shift came with it, and Beatrice found herself naked, save for her stockings.

Her eyes widened, and she smiled at what he had done to her. Then she covered herself with her arms.

“Well, I don’t think this is very fair.” She pouted. “You get to enjoy my body, but I don’t get to enjoy yours?”

Edwin smiled at her and got up from the bed. He undid the first three buttons of his shirt before slowing down to tease her. “How am I doing?”

Beatrice bit her bottom lip. “You are doing just fine.”

She wanted him to move quicker, but her frustration was the good kind. She could wait, and it would build up the anticipation until she was ready to burst.

Edwin undid the remaining buttons and removed his shirt, holding it up in the air and dropping it to the ground. He went straight to his belt after, and it was a quicker affair than his shirt. He took off his trousers and kicked them aside, and then removed his drawers.

Beatrice bit her bottom lip when his large member was freed from its confines, and she could not take her eyes off it as he strode toward the bed like a mighty warrior. He placed a knee on the bed, bent down, and then crawled up the bed to find her lips again.

The warmth of his body against hers made the passion surge through them, and their kiss became frantic. Their lips moved against the other, their tongues darting out and then back in.

Four hands roamed downwards, finding flesh, rolling curves and pleasant valleys. Beatrice found the Duke’s rear and gripped it so hard that he let out a groan. His hands fondled her breasts, then trailed up her sides to her cheeks. As he held her, he had to kiss her again.

Beatrice could smell his masculinity. They were both sweating in the warmth of the evening, the heat of their desire, but that was not what she sensed. It was not his cologne either, whose scent she had become used to and enjoyed. It was something more, something carnal. It was the scent of the pleasure that was about to come and the way her body would turn to liquid when he made her climax.

Her hand moved from his rear around to his front, where she grabbed his thick shaft and rubbed it. She knew it would excite him, but it excitedhermore than she had expected. It was as if they were one person now.

She could not wait for the ripples of delight and guided his manhood into her garden, needing his seed once more. As soon as he slid inside her, she gripped his rear again, holding him tight against her, not wanting to give him any chance of escape. She had previously thought the Duke a wild animal, but she had become one too.

It did not hurt this time. He slid into her sheath smoothly. When he was fully inside her, he stopped to look into her eyes.

“I still cannot believe how beautiful you are,” he whispered.

“Oh,” Beatrice breathed, emotion washing over her.

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