Page 13 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
He also knew he wasn’t going to.
Still, he slowed his thrusts until they were deep and hard, as if he were claiming her.
“Open yer eyes, Ellie,” he commanded, a moment before he gently squeezed again.
She froze, and as he felt her inner muscles contracting around his cock, a look of nearpaincrossed her face and a sound like a low wail left her lips.
“That’s a good lass. Fooking perfect.”
Ellie gasped and pushed back, sheathing herself atop his cock. It shouldn’t have been nearly so erotic, but it was.
Despite his intentions, Fawkes felt his orgasm building. Her inner muscles pulled at him, milking him…and he let go.
His seed spilled into her with a sense of relief. Nay, that wasn’t strong enough for this. This was…
Ecstasy. Joy.
His fingers tightened on her hip even as his thumb continued to gently stroke her, his hips bucking lightly against hers, each movement drawing out his pleasure, and he hoped, hers as well.
It was long moments before he dropped his gaze and realized she’d turned her head away from their joined reflections. Her face was pressed against her upper arm, which seemed to tremble. In fact…
Her legs were trembling too. Her whole body seemed to tremble, although he could feel her inner muscles relax around him.
Slowly, Fawkes slid from her welcoming body. She didn’t move. He kept his gaze on her as he crossed to the linen drawer and retrieved a square, wondering if he had time to wet it. Nay, better not to let her out of his sight.
He didn’twantto let her out of his sight.
For reasons which had nothing to do with the fact he might have just planted a child in her womb.
The reminder had him wiping himself in irritation, before tucking everything back into his trousers. He would normally clean her—gently tend to her, lower her skirts over her legs, kiss away any aches, whisper words of praise. But she’dwantedhis seed. She wouldn’t appreciate him wiping it away.
The thought made him angry. When she’d propositioned him, his instincts had been right, to turn her away. But those lips, Christ. Those lips…
When he turned, it was to see her pushing her skirts over her shaking knees, all without lifting her head from where it pressed against her shoulder.
Tutting softly, Fawkes went to lift her.
Ellie resisted, just slightly, but he pulled her upright, planning on turning her about and making her comfortable on the sofa, certain her legs must be weak.
His certainly were.
But as he gently pulled her around to face him, she kept her head turned, her face averted. Now he knew why she’d been pressed against her shoulder. Why she’d shaken.
There were tears in her eyes.
“Lass?” His voice was gruff, unused to the way her tears made him feel.What the—“What is it?”
Instead of answering, Ellie shook her head, her gaze squarely on his chest where a feeling of dread had lodged.
“Ellie,” he whispered again, placing two fingers under her chin. Two fingers that had moments ago been tugging her to pleasure. “What is it? Did I hurt ye?”Christ Jesus, tell me I didnae hurt ye!“Are ye well?”
There were decoctions in his laboratory, right over there, which could soothe her if she needed them. Oh, why in thefookhad he taken her so roughly?
She was so tiny, so delicate. When she’d appeared at his door, Fawkes had noticed it right away, along with the smattering of freckles she’d tried to cover with powder and the gap between her upper teeth. Those had made her seem morerealsomehow…
But she was most definitely a lady. A lady he should’ve protected, the way his mother had always protected him.
“Ellie.”
