Page 139 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
“Ye’ve been studyingThe Harlot’s Guide, eh?”
Another lick. “I am trying to better my mind like a good wife.”
His growl was her answer, so she smiled and slid her lips over his cock.
Her new husband’s groan reached straight to her core. Hercunny—God, she loved how crude he could be. Fawkes’s fingers tightened in her hair and she pushed his cock deeper.
He was the one to tug her back, and Ellie wrapped her hand around his base, using both her mouth and her hand to spread her saliva—and the tightness she knew he craved—along his length. He was so thick, she had trouble taking all of his cock into her mouth, but this way she could ensure he enjoyed it. Enjoyed her.
“Christ, Ellie.Christ,” he groaned again, his hips flexing as his kilt fell over her head. There were definite benefits to a kilt.
Being on her knees like this…it had never been pleasurable for her when she’d done it for Rufus. Routine, what was required. But her first husband hadn’t cared for her pleasure, had just used her body. It wasFawkeswho made her heart sing, made her blood thrum.
Made her cunny throb the way it was.
Ellie dropped one hand away from his ballocks and reached between her legs to drag a finger along her cleft. Yes, she was wet already, and she shifted her knees farther apart, so she could stroke herself.
“Christ, love, look at ye. Ye’re so fooking beautiful, taking my cock down yer throat like that, ye ken it?” His voice was raspy, as if he was barely holding onto control. “Ye’re perfect.”
Until she’d met Fawkes, Ellie had neverfeltperfect.
But now she did.
A flood of liquid desire coated her fingers and she squirmed, stroking herself closer.
She took his cock as deep as she could and heard him panting above her. Then, with a curse, he tugged at her hair, pulling her away from him.
“Wife, I hadplansfor tonight,” he growled, lifting her to her feet with one hand as he unbuckled his belt. She didn’t have time to feel sad as the kilt fell away, because he was settling himself on the chair, and pulling her to straddle his thighs.
Her back was to his chest, his cock nestled in the crack of her arse, his hands coming around to cup her breasts. And before her…
“Look at yerself,” he commanded.
Ellie sucked in a breath as she met the gaze of her reflection in the mirror.
Seated like this, with Fawkes behind her, her legs spread by his thighs, she was on display. But not for others’ gazes, for herown.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, hands caressing her skin. He dropped a kiss to her shoulder, then the back of her neck. “So fooking beautiful.”
She…feltbeautiful.
He took her nipples between his thumb and forefinger and rolled them in the way which sent her core throbbing harder and she moaned his name.
“Aye, lass, ye’re ready to finish what ye started?”
Without answer, she leaned forward, resting her hands on his knees and lifting her weight on her toes. This allowed him to reach between them and grasp his cock, rubbing it along her wetness a few times. In the mirror, she watched him gaze down at her arse.
“Now, husband,” she commanded, voice quivering yet certain.
His dimple appeared, right before he obeyed her instruction.
Sitting back, she took his cock to the hilt and they both groaned in satisfaction. This was a strange position, because it allowed her complete control, while also leaving her body on display for his use.
As she rode him, gentle rocking motions which had the tip of his cock brushing against that secret pleasure spot deep inside her, Fawkes whispered raspy words of praise and fondled her. No inch of skin was safe; her breasts, her sides, her neck…
And the entire time, her reflection eagerly watched his touches.
One of his hands rose to her throat, fingers spreading there, holding her in place as his other hand slid along her inner thigh, opening her even further. “Look at how wet ye are for me,” he murmured, holding her legs open so her core was on display. His fingers found her clitoris, plucking at it. “Such a good lass,” he murmured, stroking her. “So wet. I cannae get enough of ye.”
