Page 40 of Any Duke in a Storm

“You are wicked, Viking,” he ground out.

“And here as well?” That bright gaze dropped down between them to where a bead of moisture pooled crudely on the tip of his cock. She licked her lips as though she wanted to repeat the action she’d done on his nipple…only downthere, and the vision of her bending to take him into her mouth was nearly his undoing.

“That, I’ll leave for you to discover on your own.”

She let out a hungry whimper.

“Fuck, Lisbeth.” Raphael surged against the seam of her trousers, eyes rolling back into his head at the carnal sound she made.

“Undress me,” she whispered, pushing to her feet. “I want to feel you bare against me.”

He did not need to be told twice. The top layers went. Then her boots and trousers, her hips canting obligingly toward him so he could slide the fabric over her rump. Within seconds, she was as naked as he. Raphael took a moment to appreciate the shapely contours of her body and the stark contrasts between her lightly tanned skin and the darker brown of his. Freckles dusted her neck and torso like a constellation of stars he wanted to memorize with his tongue.

Her curves were the counterpoint to his harder angles, but Lisbeth wasn’t soft. Her body was strong and sinewy with honed, well-used muscle, though her luscious breasts were full and perky, and her hips succulently rounded. Despite her mouthwateringly feminine assets, Raphael knew she could take him to the ground in one fell swoop if she desired. Her beauty, her inherent skills, her sharp intelligence, and her confidence all combined to make him nonsensical.

She let out a gasp when one palm cupped her nape and the other slid down her ribs to grasp a handful of her firm bottom, dragging her against his front as he took her lips in a deep, ravenous kiss. His mouth slanted over hers and she opened eagerly for him.

“Your taste,” he groaned, his tongue licking deep into her heat. “I can’t get enough.”

He sucked on her lips, delved his tongue and rubbed it hungrily against hers. She met him stroke for stroke, as if the hunger was mutual, her nails scraping over the muscle of his back and the flesh of his buttocks. Heenjoyed kissing as much as the next man, but generally, he was quick to move on to the main event. With Lisbeth, he could linger at her lips forever.

Lifting her back into position on the table, he left the haven of her mouth even as she protested the loss. Raphael smiled. “Patience, chérie.” His fingers ghosted along her jaw where the scrape of his stubble had abraded her tender skin.

“Why did you stop?” she asked.

“Not stopping,” he said. “Savoring.”

“Savor later, Pirate.”

He chuckled and tilted her face up to his, dropping a kiss to her pert nose. “Nice try, but I’m the captain now. This ship is mine to steer. You’re here to enjoy the ride.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. If you do exactly as I say, you’ll be rewarded.” His thumb flicked over her bottom lip and pressed into her mouth. “Suck.” When she obeyed without question, though her eyes flashed and her teeth grazed the sides of his thumb, he grinned. His vicious Valkyrie couldn’t help herself—she’d submit but with conditions. She’d bend but only so far. He removed his thumb and cupped her chin. “Are you going to be good for me?”

Her eyes went molten at the gravelly rasp, mirroring the deep, dark green of a churning sea, her lips red and swollen, and her cheeks flushed with desire. He rolled her left nipple between two of his fingers when she didn’t answer. “I need words, Lisbeth.”

“Yes,” she moaned. “God, yes.”

“Good girl.”

A tremor tracked through her body at the praise, and Raphael wanted nothing more than to see her come undone. He pressed heated kisses to her jaw and her neck, making his way down to her collarbones and the perfect breasts he couldn’t get enough of. Full and palm-sized, they were tipped with rose-colored nipples that begged to be pleasured. He kneaded one as he closed his lips over the other and sucked hard. The ragged whimpers that left her lips were gratifying.

“Saint, please,” she panted against him, spine bowing as he lavished the taut peak with attention, at times flicking it with his tongue, and others, pulling it deep. When he switched to its twin and repeated the process, it wasn’t long before she was a writhing, moaning mess. She was so fucking responsive, he couldn’t wait to explore the rest of her…one place in particular. His mouth watered at the thought.

“My name is Raphael,” he said and kissed her stomach gently before sinking to his knees.

“What are you doing?” she asked, confused. “I thought…”

He pushed her knees apart, dragging his nose on the inside of her leg. Her skin was like velvet as he kissed and nuzzled his way to the crease. Inhaling deeply, he closed his teeth over the flesh of her inner thigh and bit down, eyes meeting hers when she stared down at him with a ragged gasp. “What did I say?” he asked.

She gulped when his hand cupped the heart of her. “You’re…the captain.”

“And?”

“I’ll behave,” she said but still rocked her hips up against his palm in search of friction to soothe the need building inside of her. He almost laughed at her impatience and the obvious lie in her reply, but the promise of the treasure that lay a breath away took up too much of his brain. He inhaled again. God, she smelled divine…like the ocean at daybreak after a storm. And the sight of her—the wispy thatch of silvery-blond curls above petal-pink lips that glistened with arousal—was nearly his undoing. She wassoaked. For him.

“Look at you,” he groaned. “Tell me what you need, chérie. Qu’est-ce que tu veux?”

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