Page 34 of The Duke's Goddess

James would have to be absolutely delirious to think Joan didn’t feel his hardness pushing into her bottom, but he couldn’t do anything about it. There was no wiggle room. Well, there was some wiggle room if he wanted to be honest about it. Wiggling room. Grinding room. Ahem—but there was no room to wiggle away from her. The best he could do was try to think of conjugating latin verbs or regurgitate math formulas. But for the life of him, he couldn’t think of one. What even was Latin? Math? Numbers, right?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly into her ear.

And perhaps that was the wrong thing to do because he felt her shiver. And that small shiver shook her all the way down her spine and settled into a jiggle of her bottom. Which, as he was all too well aware, was resting snuggly around his throbbing cock.

And he shouldn’t do it, because really, based on what just happened, another whisper didn’t make the most sense, yet hedid it anyway, “Don’t move, Joan.” If she moved too much he was afraid he was going to embarrass himself.

Another shiver. Another jiggle. A thicker cock. A groan from the back of his throat.

The once thought to be chilly night air was growing thick and hot. He could feel Joan’s bosom inhaling and exhaling, nearly panting, just above his forearm. What he wouldn’t do to raise his arm to feel the underside of her breasts. Even clothed, he knew he would revel in their heaviness.

But he was using all of his self-control to remain a statue. If he could just hold it together while Sally and Jacob kissed. Oh God, they were moaning louder now. James could hear the rustling of fabric being hitched up. It was difficult to see what was happening through the rose bushes, but he could see Jacob lifting Sally. And he was pretty sure her legs were wrapped around his friend’s waist now. And…nope…he didn’t want to admit it, but it really did look like Jacob’s breeches were pooled at his feet. And…oh, yes…there was some grunting and… devil take it…thrusting action. Yes, that was definitely happening.

There was no denying it.

When James and Joan had discussed the innocence of a shared kiss between Sally and Jacob, they were excited for the couple. Not as excited as the couple was currently displaying, but giddy that love might bloom. Well, yes, something was blooming right now. James didn’t particularly want to identify the number of thickening cocks in the vicinity, and he could only hope that Joan had her eyes (and somehow her ears) shut so that she didn’t—

And then the unthinkable happened. Joan’s hand grasped his–desperately. He could feel the tension in her grip. Panic. But a controlled panic. And slowly, inch by inch, she drew his hand up to her breast. He knew what she was doing but couldn’t believe it was actually happening. She was initiating something with him. Something sensual. And he wanted it. The desperation emitted from her clinging hand, was a reflection of the desperation he felt in his heart—no, not his heart. His…well, definitely his cock. He wanted this woman, and he was about to have her. If he let her take control. He inhaled a ragged breath and softly exhaled in anticipation. His fingers were a hair’s width away from her breasts. Breasts that he didn’t want to admit he had dreamt of last night. Massaging those creamy mounds. Licking. Nipping. Sucking her nipples into his mouth. Those had just been innocent—all right, not soinnocent, but they hadn’t been a reality, so they were innocent enough. And now his dreams were coming true. If he let her…

He thought for the second time, he could let her, or he could stop her. If he stopped her, he might never know the weight of her breasts, the curve of them. The shape. If instead he let her move his hands, everything might change. Then again, it didn’t have to change. She knew he was a rake…so she knew what she was getting into. Continuing the debate in his mind, while his fingers were tempted to dig into the front of her ribs, he landed on the argument that would seal his fate.

If he denied her this, she would feel rejected. And he would never want to hurt her. He never wanted her to feel the sting of rejection. What he knew of Joan was that she was a lady. An innocent. And here she was, finding courage to make a move. He could never deny her that.

So he let her.

The second his palm cupped her breast, he felt her body melt into him. His head fell back against the wall. Relief surged through him. Just to touch her. This indomitable, curious, cautious woman who was not acting cautiously at all with him.

He wanted her to sink into him. He wanted to bear her weight. Her burdens. He wanted her to let him in…in every way.

But then she moaned. And the moan was just a little too loud to go unnoticed.

“Joan, you must be quiet.”

“Don’t stop,” she mumbled.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to, but you must be quiet. Can you be a good girl and do that for me, Joan?” He lightly pinched her nipple to test her.

A muffled moan caught in her throat, and she nodded.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispered in her ear. Not holding back now. He let his breath rush in her ear while waiting for her body to tremble. “That’s a good girl,” he said, soothing her quivering body. With one hand on her breast and one still covering her mouth, he asked, “I’m going to use both of my hands on you now.”

The back of her head pressed into his chest, nodding.

Before he indulged, he took one of her hands and brought it up behind his neck so she had a part of him to hang onto. To cling to. To dig her nails into. And she did just that kind of digging, the second he brought his hand to her breast and squeezed,

For sure, he thought she would moan too loudly, but he was proud of her when he saw her tighten her lips, sealing anysounds from escape. But when she arched her breasts into his hands, he almost lost control entirely.

He tugged on her bodice. When nothing happened, he growled quietly in disappointment. Not to be deterred, he dipped his finger into the bodice and pulled out one of her plump breasts. For a brief second, he thought he was going to come in his breeches at the sight of the most perfect breast he had ever seen. It was too dark to discern the exact color of her nipple, but he could see its turgid peak. And that pert nipple needed to be sucked.

He rolled her nipple between his fingertips, feeling himself harden even more.

“Joan,” his hoarse words crawled through the air. “If you want more, turn around.” Her body tensed, and he wasn’t sure if he had scared her away. He had told himself that he only let her make her move because she was the one in control. And he could only hope this invitation to turn around wasn’t removing that control from her hands. So he waited. He didn’t nudge her at all. Just…waited.

And then gradually she turned around. Her head down, he couldn’t read her emotions. He desperately wanted to tip her chin up to look at him, but he wanted her to have control. So he waited again. Finally, she inclined her head. And his breath caught in his throat.

A few loose locks of hair framed her face as half-lidded eyes lazily looked up at him. Not in embarrassment as he was loath to predict, but in desire. And that’s all the encouragement he needed.

He pressed his back into the wall and sunk into a shallow squat, opening his legs for her to straddle. He lowered his head to her breast, pausing an inch from her nipple. He let out a soft breath, and looked up at her, licking his bottom lip. Waiting again.

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