Page 96 of The Duke and the Runaway Bride

“I had to keep up the ruse with her, but I wanted to talk to you about it first.”

“And I was too stubborn,” Beatrice added.

Edwin kissed the top of her head. “It is one of your best qualities, and you must never change it. I would not have you any other way.”

“I hope you willhaveme in some way,” Beatrice purred.

“I believe that can be arranged,” the Duke replied.

He took her chin and tilted her head up toward him to kiss her. Beatrice felt herself sink into the bed. Her entire body tingled with an unknown warmth, blooming from deep inside and rushing all the way up and down to her fingers and toes. She was floating in an ocean of warmth in his embrace.

Her hand moved slowly over his chest as their kiss slowed almost to a halt. She traced the outline of his muscles with her fingers, needing to explore every inch of him, to commit every part of him to memory.

There was no rush now. They were together, and nothing would come between them. They had all night to explore each other’s bodies, and Beatrice did not even mind delayed gratification. The real pleasure was being in his embrace again, knowing the ecstasy was coming at some point.

The Duke’s tongue probed her slightly parted lips and pressed against her tongue. Beatrice moaned, moving her fingers to his nipple and gently brushing it. The Duke ran his fingers up and down her spine, caressing her gently.

Nothing outside the room mattered to them. They kissed each other for what seemed like an hour, losing all sense of time.

Their lips finally came apart, and the Duke looked down upon Beatrice. “I do love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” she replied. “I might not have announced it in front of a hall full of people, but it is true.”

Edwin laughed and then kissed her again.

Beatrice ran her hand down his stomach and then back up to his shoulder and down his arm. The Duke shifted and wrapped one arm around her waist, resting a hand on her hip. His other hand took one of her pert breasts and squeezed it, his thumb playing with her nipple as he held her.

Beatrice moaned louder at his touch, lifting her head to steal a kiss. She shifted until she was on top of him, pressing her soft body to his tight frame, feeling parts of him probing her softness. She placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him a little quicker this time. When his hands cupped her rear and squeezed, she kissed him harder.

The Duke gripped her waist and flipped her over, tossing her down on the bed like a blanket. Beatrice gasped and then laughed as he lowered himself onto her. She giggled as he kissed her, and then he took her arms and pinned them above her head. She could feel his throbbing member against her thigh, and she ached for it to fill her.

“I am yours,” she told him. “I need you inside me.”

“Do you?” he asked with a smile.

“I do,” she replied. “I will beg for it if I have to.”

“I don’t believe it will come to that,” the Duke said with a smirk.

He kissed her again, pressing his broad chest down onto her soft mounds, squishing them. He took one of her hands and moved it beside the other above her head so that he could hold both her wrists with one hand, pinning her beneath him. Beatrice felt her body stretch out beneath him. She could not move, nor did she want to.

The Duke’s other hand traced a path down her body. It lightly brushed the side of one of her breasts, and then her side, and, finally, her thigh. Goose pimples rose in each place he touched, and it caused her back to arch. She could not push him upward—she could only arch her body into his.

She was about to start begging when he gave her what she wanted. His hand moved to her inner thigh, and he pushed her leg a little to the side, opening her cave for him.

Beatrice moaned, but that moan quickly turned into a gasp when he filled her with his large shaft. He slid fully into her, filling her inch by inch until he was deep inside. He did not hesitate or tease her this time and immediately slid back out.

Beatrice could not kiss him with such pleasure. She was moaning too much to be able to focus on anything else. She moved her head to the side, letting out deep, guttural noises. The Duke turned his attention to her neck, kissing her there, and it only made her moan louder.

He quickened his thrusts, timing them just right, like an orchestra building to a crescendo. Beatrice could hear the music in her ears, a composition born from his love for her.

She had to break free. She could not be pinned any longer without being allowed to do something. She wriggled her arms, and the Duke let go of her hands. Beatrice immediately brought them to his back, clawing at him, and then one hand ventured down to his rear and squeezed it.

Edwin was spurred into action, thrusting into her harder, their skin slapping with each movement. Beatrice held on for dear life—she was pinned beneath him and could go nowhere, but she still gripped onto his rear. Her nails dug into his flesh, unable to be gentle with him.

And the Duke slammed into her harder and harder, filling her with his throbbing rod.

“Give it to me,” Beatrice panted. “Give me everything.”

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