Page 61 of Any Duke in a Storm

He licked up her throat to the sensitive space below her ear and worried her lobe with his teeth. Raphael twisted her chin up to take her lips in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. “Fuck, you’ve no idea how much I want to mark this pale, pretty skin.”

“Then do it,” she moaned insensibly.

He moved back to her shoulders, baring the elegant line and hollow beneath her scapula, just visible over the lace of her corset. Christ, every inch of her was elegance wrapped in strength. Every dip of bone, every taut muscle, every inch of downy skin was uncharted territory. He wanted to map her body, learn every ridge, trace every sinful curve.

Raphael kissed a short path down the upper knobs of her spine and shifted left ever so slightly before taking her flesh between his teeth and sucking hard. She cried out, writhing back against him, her body confused at the bite of pain in the midst of so much pleasure. And then he slipped his free hand through the damp slit in her drawers, his left arm banding her skirts in place, a finger dragging through the copious wetness he found there.

“I knew you’d be this wet.”

“Yes,” she said.

He groaned in satisfaction, rolling his impossibly hard cock against her bottom, tentatively at first in case she still wasn’t ready, but when she shoved back against him with a guttural whimper, his legs nearly buckled. The friction against his apadravya piercing was almost enough to catapult him over the edge, but he refused to do so without her.

Raphael’s middle finger slid inside her slick passage while he rocked into her arse. She moaned at the intrusion, though her hips didn’t cease thrusting into his hand as she chased her release. He added a second finger, feeling herstretch deliciously around him. She was trapped between his pelvis and his palm, impaling herself onto his fingers while grinding her buttocks into his erection. Each rub of his piercing made his vision go white.

It was the most sublime torture he’d ever endured in his life.

“God, Raphael, I’m going to…”

So was he. His thumb swiped the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex, and she swallowed a scream as her body seized and curled onto itself, shuddering uncontrollably. Her orgasm ignited his own as he followed with a suffocated shout, his cock exploding into his trousers. Rhythmic pulses clamped around the fingers that were still buried inside her even as hot ropes of his seed jetted from his body in unending spurts. He hadn’t ever come so hard.

“Bloody hell, Viking,” he huffed into her hair. “You undo me.”

Gently, he removed his hand from the clasp of her center, letting her gown fall back into place, and turned her in his arms. Her eyes were dazed from her release, her mouth swollen and parted. “Glad to know the feeling is mutual, Pirate.” She sighed and adjusted her bodice, hiding those beautiful breasts away. “I hate the fact that practically everyone will know what we have been doing.”

“And what was that?” With a wicked smile, he lifted his fingers that were still glistening with her arousal and slid them into his mouth. “Having dessert?”

“You are filthy,” she said, eyes sparking with heat as he licked each finger clean.

“I make no apologies and neither should you.” He stared down at her. “You will not be going with Thorin. You will be going in a carriage with me.”

“Raphael, be reasonable. You know what the agents are capable of, should they realize who you are.” She flushed and glanced toward the closed door to the hold. “And besides, how do we explain youandmy fiancé?”

His teeth smashed together so hard, they nearly cracked. “Duckfucker. When I see that pigeon-livered sack of pricks, I’m going to flatten him for that.”

She glowered. “Donotlet Nari hear you say any of that or heaven help me, you’ll be flattened right next to Thorin.” She peered down at the enormous wet spot on his pants and then blushed like the dichotomy she was. “Now go get cleaned up, stop acting like an infant, get Narina, and meet us at 530 Fifth Avenue.”

Eighteen

Lisbeth sat in the carriage across from the lead male agent with Thorin ensconced at her side. The others were on horseback and, hopefully, Raphael was following somewhere behind with Narina in tow. All three of the customs house inspectors had been practically fuming by the time she emerged on the footbridge. It hadn’t beenthatlong; twenty frantic, well-spent minutes at the most.

Besides, a lady should never be rushed.

A lady shouldn’t be fucking her lover in the cargo hold either, but there she was.

Lisbeth had barely had time to fix her hair, sponge herself hurriedly, and tend to her soiled undergarments. The satin overlayer of her dress was crumpled, thanks to its adventures in Raphael’s big hands, but that could not be helped. Nor could her rosy cheeks, the sparkle in her eye, or that obvious post-orgasm glow. Taking a page from Raphael’s book, she refused to make apologies for any of it.

Thorin couldn’t stop sending her sly looks and she’d elbowed him in the ribs when they’d climbed into the waiting coach. Thankfully, he didn’t make any attempt to be cozy or flirty in the carriage. She would not have been able to support that, not after what she and Raphael had done. Or with that mustached agent staring her down likehe was attempting to dissect her into pieces. He kept goggling between her and Thorin, clearly noting her fiancé’s youth, not that that was uncommon. Still, Thorin had to be about twenty.

She met his eyes directly, arching a haughty brow. “Is something amiss, Mr.—”

“Carr,” he supplied. “And no. I’m simply fascinated by the British aristocracy, Lady Waterstone.”

Lisbeth gave a dismissive sniff. “Well, I suppose we can be quite intriguing, but staring is impolite, sir.”

“I apologize.” His tone suggested the opposite.

Lisbeth directed her attention to the small square window as they drove through the bustling streets. The city had come a long way since the end of the Civil War, growing in both occupancy and wealth. Two years ago was the last time she’d been here and things had not been as prosperous, the city fighting through a depression with veterans returning from the war and a lack of jobs. Broadway was a busy street, however, bustling with carriages and crowded storefronts. Well-dressed pedestrians ambled the sidewalks as they passed through General Worth Square at Twenty-Fifth Street.

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