Page 12 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
Fook, she was still fully clothed. He’d just flipped up her skirts and was taking her up against the sofa.
When he glanced at the window, he saw her head was bowed, her eyes shut. Her lips were parted.
But she was silent.
“Lass,” he prompted. When she didn’t respond, he slid all the way in, deep—deeper—deepest—and prompted again. “Ellie, look at me.”
At his harsh command, she lifted her gaze to meet his in the mirrored window.
“Watch me, Ellie,” he growled. “Watch yerself. Watch me fooking ye.”
Her lips formed an unspoken word, one he couldn’t read, but her head raised. She held his gaze. And God help him, but her willingness to obey him—to present her body like this to him—cost Fawkes what little control he had left.
“Watch me fook ye, little Ellie,” he snarled, his thrusts coming faster now. “Watch me cum in yer sweet cunny. Ye’d like that, would ye no’?”
To his surprise, she arched her back, thrusting her rear end closer, joining him in his rhythm.
“I said, ye’d like that?”
“Yes,” she finally answered in a gasp. “Yes, Fawkes,please.”
Please. Fawkes.
She called him by his given name, an honor reserved for his closest friends and his mother.
Please.
Please give me a bairn, Fawkes, please.
Growling in anger, he slammed into her, each plunge bringing him closer to the precipice.More more more more. He was close, so close.
And Ellie, damn her eyes, arched and quivered andwatched him.
Just as he’d commanded.
He was about to lose himself in her body, using, taking…and she was watching.
Breathless, aye, her eyes bright with—withsomething.
But she wasn’t squirming with pleasure against him, either.
Fawkes slowed his thrusts long enough to bend over her, to reach around, to dig through the piles and falls of material blocking his access… He found her thigh first, and followed it up until his questing fingers felt her dampness.
In the dark window, her eyes widened. “What—”
He found her clitoris and brushed the pad of his thumb across it. She bucked against him, pushing herself upright, her mouth opening to ask himyet againwhat he was doing when any fool could see he was determined to pleasure her.
So he did it again, just to shut her up. Then he circled the nub with his fingertip, and as he slowly began his thrusts once more, gently squeezed.
In the mirrored glass, she had the most adorably confused look on her face. Not a virgin, eh?
“Ye like that, lass?” he murmured. “Ye can feel it, building inside ye, aye? Ye’re going to come for me, are ye no’? Like a good little lass, ye’re going to come all over my cock?”
She was shaking her head, but he couldfeelher. Feel her tightening around him, feel her breathing hitch, feel the way she was pressing back against him, trying to get closer and closer and closer.
He was already so deep in her, but she wantedmore.
Fawkes knew he was ready to come. And heknewhe should pull out, should spend on her arse, if only to foil her manipulations.
