Page 82 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
“Yes, it is.”
“Good.” She pushed him flat on his back with a brazen enthusiasm that turned his blood to steam.
Only a madman would resist. She shoved the sheets out of the way to reveal his body. As that also exposed her magnificent Norse goddess form, he had no complaints.
With flaring interest, he watched her straddle his hips. She bent and kissed him again, with a rising passion that matched his. He caught her full breasts in his hands, squeezing the warm, firm flesh.
Evesham watched her eyes change. She had exquisitely sensitive breasts, he’d been pleased to discover. When his thumbnails scraped pearled nipples, her breath caught.
Too soon, Juliet wriggled out of his hold and began to kiss his chest, using lips and tongue and teeth. Her hands played a concerto of caresses over his arms and shoulders.
When she kissed his stomach, for a dazzled moment, he wondered if she might take him in her mouth. He might have kissed her quim, but this was a variation that he hadn’t broached. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d been a virgin. Despite her blatant enjoyment of everything they’d done in this bed, sucking his prick was a step too far.
He'd just started to get excited at the prospect – he’d enjoyed a thousand fantasies of his cock inside Juliet’s mouth – she sat up again.
Before he could feel disappointed, she rose and in one smooth glide, took him inside her. Lightning flashed in his head, his blood surged like a tidal wave, his heart threatened to crash free of his chest.
“Dear God, you’re killing me,” he growled, setting his hands on her hips. The hot, pulsating slickness of her body surrounded his.
The confident, wanton smile on her lips would have been foreign to the Juliet he’d met. This was a woman who owned her power. By heaven, he’d never seen a more beautiful sight than her sitting astride him, naked, while their bodies joined in sultry promise.
“Poor Lucas,” she said with insincere pity.
When she circled her hips, all he saw was exploding suns. “By Jericho, do that again,” he managed to say through a throat as tight as a drumhead.
She did, then began rocking forward and back on top of him in a way that sent fire rushing along his veins. The urge to lose himself inside her was nigh invincible, but he fought it back. He didn’t want this extravagant pleasure to end so fast.
Juliet rested her hands on his chest and moved up and down with a deliberate slowness that threatened to send him insane. Every shift of that magnificent body promised to send him up in smoke.
Evesham caught her luscious rump in his hands and pressed his fingers deep into the luxuriant flesh. He’d always liked women who were all soft roundness, and Juliet’s lush body struck him as just perfect.
Her movements became less controlled, as she strove for relief. He loved the way her features tightened and her eyes went opaque as her peak approached. Knowing her crisis loomed so close built his arousal into an unstoppable fever.
“Shall I help?” he asked, as she teetered on the brink without finding relief.
Bending forward until her hair fell about his face in a gilt curtain, she kissed him hard. When she pulled back, she smiled. “Yes.”
With a shaking hand, he touched her sex, rubbing hard as she descended with clumsy eagerness. She clenched around him, then jerked into climax.
Evesham gritted his teeth and tensed every muscle to stillness. If he moved now, he’d lose control.
He managed to last until she collapsed on his chest in boneless exhaustion.
With a groan, he rolled over, taking her with him. He was too close to tarry. He wrenched free and lost himself in the sheets.
For a long while, he lay with closed eyes, as his body recovered from that massive orgasm. In time, his breath came more easily and his heartbeat steadied. He wiped himself off and hauled Juliet into his arms for a long, intense kiss.
He didn’t want to acknowledge it, and she didn’t say the words. But the shattering fuck and even more, this kiss, felt like goodbye.
Chapter 23
The moment Evesham opened his eyes, he realized that Juliet had left the bed. A quick glance around the room proved that he was alone. With his heart racing, he surged up in alarm.
Surely she wouldn’t go without a word. Not after that resplendent night.
But her gown no longer draped over the back of the chair, and her half boots had disappeared from beside the hearth.
“Damn it all to hell,” he muttered, staggering out of bed and tugging on his breeches.
