Page 56 of The Duke Says I Do
Portia wriggled in wordless encouragement, as the ache in her nipples sharpened. Then released a muffled cry when he pinched one peak between thumb and forefinger. She dissolved into liquid heat, and her body softened as it prepared for his possession.
The sensation of his fingers on her bare breast sent her up in flames. In an instinctive plea for more, her hips jerked toward his hardness.
He loosened the drawstring, allowing her breasts to spill out. The awe on his face made her feel as beautiful as Venus. And proud of that beauty.
She spread her shaking hand over his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath her palm. Heat radiated from him, alluring as a fire blazing in a hearth.
Alaric pressed his mouth to hers and pushed her skirts higher. The needy hollows of her body grew slick with excitement, as his hand traced her thigh under her loose drawers. In an agony of suspense, she waited for him to touch her there, in the secret place that ached for him. So many powerful urges assailed her, she wondered why she didn’t explode.
Earthy female arousal tinged the air, along with dust and hay and horses. And something musky that she guessed was male arousal. It smelled like Alaric, but it also smelled like masculine need.
When he took his hand away, she wanted to howl in disappointment. She ripped her lips from his to demand, beg, that he keep going, but he spoke first.
“Spread your legs for me, Portia.” His gruffness reflected his urgency.
She obeyed with alacrity. She was hot and wet and empty, and she needed him to fill the yearning space. He found the slit in her drawers and insinuated his hand inside. When he cupped her mound, she shuddered in surprise. And pleasure.
Over the pulse in her ears, she barely heard his choked sound of approval. Her hips rose toward that teasing hand and her fingers circled his arm.
When he lingered at a particularly sensitive place, pulses of searing desire blasted her. The crumpled froth of skirts and petticoats around her hips stopped her from seeing what he did. That just made the experience more evocative. Every sense woke to this seduction.
“Do…it.” Talking was almost impossible.
Alaric frowned, although his hand continued its unsettling explorations. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She quivered under his touch and spread her legs wider. “It hurts to want you like this.”
Still touching her between the legs, he kissed her again, lips voracious. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and pressed up in a plea to take this further.
Portia felt pressure between her legs. With a shock, she realized that his finger was inside her. She gasped against his mouth. The sensation was strange, a little uncomfortable. Almost pleasurable, especially when she tightened around the invasion.
Alaric raised his head to watch her as he slid his finger in and out. Deeper pressure told her that he now used two fingers. Her body clung to him, as he established a steady rhythm that beat in her blood.
It wasn’t enough. She wanted him to give her everything. She attained such a pitch of craving that she didn’t care if it hurt. “I want you now.”
“You’re so tight,” he said unevenly.
“I’m ready.” With daring born of desperation, she tore at the buttons on his breeches.
His rod strained the gray buckram. It looked huge. Impossibly huge. How on earth would that fit inside her? The prospect should terrify her. But even that wasn’t enough to discourage her.
“Portia, I’m trying to do the right thing.” He sounded as if it hurt to talk.
To her frustration, he stopped touching her and caught her seeking hand. She stared up into his eyes, seeing the war that he fought with himself. That rampant flesh between his legs and the hunger she read in his expression revealed that he was as mad to have her as she was to be had. But the Galahad jaw was set like stone, and the telltale muscle flickered in his cheek.
Portia took a moment to appreciate his consideration. She couldn’t love a selfish man. But she wanted the key to the mystery that had tormented her since their first kiss. She couldn’t deny herself any longer. She couldn’t deny him.
“The right thing is for you to make love to me.” Desire roughened her voice.
“Portia…”
“Please.” Tears stung her eyes, and her voice cracked with need. She twisted her hand out of his grasp and flattened it against the bulge in his breeches. His member surged against her palm and he shuddered. Without thinking, she fitted her hand around him.
Alaric released a long, guttural groan and his hips jerked forward to further the contact. “I can’t resist you.”
“Don’t resist me.” Triumph filled her. When she angled up to kiss him, his lips tasted of surrender. “We both want this.”
She waited for him to protest in his knight-in-shining-armor way, but she’d vanquished his qualms at last. His kiss turned fierce, exciting her to the point of madness.
