Page 41 of Duke of Pride

With a curse that sounded more like the snarl of a wild beast, Stephen captured her lips again, his hands mapping her body with urgency. He rolled his hips against hers, and she begged for sanity. He ground into her again, the barriers of their clothing irrelevant when it came to the heat they were feeling.

Victoria arched into him, finding purchase on his shoulders. The hand that gripped her waist moved with intent up her side. Not slow, not tender, but decisive, overwhelming. Stephen was determined to ruin her, and she didn’t even mind.

His hand cupped the back of her neck, steady, guiding, keeping her where he wanted her, not restrictive, but dominant nonetheless.

Fresh heat pooled low in her stomach. The other hand slowly trailed up her body, the heat of his palm searing through the layers of silk, making her acutely aware of every inch between them. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast, and she gasped into his mouth.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured.

Never!

She took control of the kiss, pulling him in with her hands and her body, her fingers grazing his scalp. Her tongue flicked over his slowly, their breaths mingling, their bodies pressed together. Her prize was a deep moan, rumbling in his chest like the warning of a tempest.

His hands moved boldly, one fisting in her hair and angling her head exactly how he needed to take over and devour her mouth. But his other hand… it explored more, demanded more. Even through layers of fabric, he found her. The gentle mound of her breast yielded to his palm, and her body quivered deliciously at the contact.

“Oh God!” she panted.

As she broke the kiss, he dropped his mouth to her neck, savoring her skin, leaving soft bites that he soothed with his tongue.

“So responsive,” he murmured against her skin.

Victoria’s breath hitched as he stroked slowly, deliberately, over the fabric, circling a delicate peak with maddening precision. The friction of silk against her sensitized bare skin sent a wave of need through her. Her core was wet and pulsing with want. She arched into him instinctively, and his lips curved against her collarbone.

“Yes, Victoria.” His voice was thick with lust. “Do you know what you do to me?”

She tried to answer, but he chose that moment to press the pad of his thumb on her nipple. It was as if she was struck by lightning, a thrilling sensation taking over her body.

He leaned back just enough to gaze upon her face, his blue eyes dark and hooded. He dragged his teeth across his lower lip as if considering things he shouldn’t. And then he licked that same lip, throwing all caution to the passing meadows.

Slowly, with the precision of a man entirely in control and entirely undone, he brought his mouth to her nipple, now tight and aching.

“Stephen!” Victoria gripped his shoulders to keep from floating away.

He took her wanton cry as encouragement. And it was.

Victoria shivered, her thighs tightening around him, her hands clawing at him. His fingers skittered over her shoulders, pulling her dress down and exposing more of her skin, baring her to him.

His warm breath fanned her breast as it spilled over the fabric. His mouth closed around her nipple, hot and aching and slow, and she cried out. She truly cried out, not caring if anyone heard. Her hand flew to his hair, her fingers tangling in his curls, keeping him there.

He drew her into a rhythm of sucking, licking, gentle brushes and deep pulls. Every flick of his tongue made her body shake, her core rippling, looking for friction, for something she couldn’t even name. His hand moved, cupping her other breast, and his thumb grazed her nipple again and again. His mouth was hungry, his hands insatiable.

This double attack made her breath come in shallow bursts, if at all. Her legs drew up on either side of his body, cradling him, anchoring him to her as much as she was anchored to him. He rolled his hips into her once, and a new sensation rushed through her body. She arched into him, just to feel it again.

Not enough. More.

And then he went still. Her whole being protested, a shameless moan escaping her lips.

“We are almost there. We must…” He swallowed hard.

Victoria could see how tightly his jaw clenched, how his body still trembled. She glanced out the window and noted that they would soon turn onto the road to Colborne House and pass through the gate.

“Victoria,” Stephen whispered reverently, inching close enough to rest his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy. And then he tore himself away, gently but firmly pulling her bodice back up with trembling fingers.

Victoria lowered her feet onto the carriage floor once more. They looked at each other, words unspoken floating between them. What was there to be said when their bodies spoke louder?

He reached down and plucked a hairpin from the floor. He gave it to her with a look that consumed her whole, that teased how delicious it would be to throw caution to the wind. But his restraint won.

He sat back on his seat and struggled to adjust his cravat. By the time they reached Colborne House, her hair was neat, his cravat almost perfect, her bodice in place, their composure restored.

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