Page 68 of The Duke Says I Do
He forgot good intentions. Hell, he came close to forgetting his bloody name.
“Lean over the base of the bed,” he growled.
Portia cast him a questioning glance over her shoulder, but something in his face must have convinced her that this was no time for discussion.
Granville wasn’t surprised that he looked determined. He was on the brink of going up like a gunpowder store struck by an enemy shell. If his face conveyed even half his hunger, he must look like he wanted to devour her in one bite.
She was still a few steps from the baseboard when he ripped at the fastenings on his breeches. Her skirts had tumbled down, concealing that superb arse. It didn’t matter. The sight remained etched in his mind. “Bend over.”
She took up her position. “Are you going to…” she faltered out in a breathless voice.
It could be excitement. Or it could be her stance, stooped over the bed.
“God, yes,” he rasped, like a dying man given water.
“How…”
His hands seized her waist. He prayed that she wouldn’t tell him to stop. If she did, he’d have to, but by all that was holy, retreating now would rip him to shreds. “Yes?”
The delay extended forever. In his mind at least. “How exciting.”
A gust of relief escaped. “I don’t deserve you, Portia.”
Granville stepped closer, burying his dick in her skirts. It twitched in longing. So close to where it wanted to be, inside Portia.
“What should I do?”
“Brace yourself,” he muttered, shoving silk and linen out of the way. The scent of her arousal was sharp in his nostrils. Even if she hadn’t told him that she loved what he did, his senses would know. “Why do women wear so many blasted clothes?”
“To torture our lovers?”
Despite his urgency, a grunt of laughter emerged. “It jolly well works. Spread your legs for me.”
Again she cooperated without protest. His heart slammed against his ribs, when he saw her glistening pink vulva. He wanted to taste her there. Take his time. Send her to paradise again and again.
Later.
With an unsteady touch, he stroked her, relishing the slickness and heat. The sight of his hand toying with those rosy folds made him bite back a groan. She moaned as his finger found her clitoris. With another of those heart-stopping wiggles, she pushed back.
He caught her hips and took in the perfect view. Portia’s feminine roundness, and the long, graceful back, and the untidy golden hair. The intriguing valley between her legs.
Her hands curled into claws on the embroidered silk coverlet. “Don’t…wait,” she panted, angling her arse higher.
As if she had to beg. He was utterly at her command.
On that thought, he plunged forward. Heat. Sumptuous constriction.Home...
Her soft cry didn’t sound like distress. Even more encouraging, she bumped back to take more.
On a profane prayer of gratitude, Granville closed his eyes and began to move.
Chapter 17
Portia’s body stretched in a most satisfying way as Alaric pushed into her. She hardly noticed the slight burn on flesh unused to a man’s possession before today. The faint sting was worth it in return for the bliss. What had seemed so unnatural a few hours ago now felt like the most perfect act in the world.
The sensation was marvelous, and in this rather shocking position, different from their earlier lovemaking. He settled so deep, she was sure that he must touch her womb. She released a shuddering breath, as she accommodated his size. She adored this moment when their bodies united and she basked in intimacy before the rise to transcendent release.
Although she loved that, too.
