Page 18 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
Thorne’s fingers were no longer laced together. His palms had turned over, and now he pressed them against his cockstand, which strained against the wool of his trousers. His breathing had sped up, his lids lowered halfway as he watched her in a sort of daze.
Kit had guessed correctly.
Here was a man who needed release, needed to be givenpermission, needed someone else in charge. Needed to know, to be told what to do.
“Take out your cock.”
When his eyes widened in surprise, Kit leaned forward, gripping her knees. “That’s what she’ll tell you.Take out your cock.” Oh God, she was going breathless now. “Touch yourself.” Her voice caught. “S-Stroke yourself.”
Stroke yourself, Thorne.
He’d frozen, staring at her.
Kit stared right back, the air between them charged.
Do it, she willed him.Lose control.
Give up control.
Finally, Thorne inhaled, suddenly and sharply. Perhaps whatever he’d seen in her face convinced him she was being serious, that judgment was absent.
He didn’t drop her gaze as he fumbled with the buttons of his trousers and Kit dared not look away. From the corner of her eyes, she saw him free his cock, saw him wrap his hand around the hardness.
When he did, they both exhaled.
And Thorne seemed to relax, the muscles in his jaw and chest loosening.Good.
“Stroke yourself,” Kit whispered, realizing she was leaning forward in her chair. “That’s what your wife will say. She’ll love you, and she’ll want you to be comfortable, so she’ll tell you to touch yourself.”
And it’ll make her feel comfortable.
Thorne’s hand began to move, and Kit couldn’t help the way her gaze finally dropped to his lap. He’d sprawled back now, the fingers of his free hand digging into the wool on his trousers, while his other hand…
He knew what he was doing.
This man was not a stranger to a good hand-frigging, that was for certain.
Not for the first time, Kit wished she could thrust her hand down her own trousers and drag her fingers through the wetness she could feel now as her thighs slid across one another. She hadn’t been this aroused since…ever.
Thorne kept his jaw and throat clean-shaven; it was the only way she could tell his pulse was throbbing in beat to hers. There was a flutter under his skin along his throat, and the spot was so damned enticing, Kit had pushed herself out of her chair to the floor before she’d realized what she was doing.
She wanted to taste him.
But she wouldn’t.
Because this was about him. About whatheneeded.
So there she was, on her knees on the carpet, mere feet separating them, as his pace increased, his strokes coming faster and more powerful.
“She’ll watch you,” Kit whispered, dragging her gaze back to his. His eyes had never left her face. “She’ll watch you, because she loves you. She’ll climb from the bed and stand before you,proud of you, Thorne.”
His answer was a groan of surrender as his eyes fluttered shut and he sank lower in the chair, his lower lip bitten down. His hand, however, didn’t stop.
Kit felt safer to shuffle forward. And, knowing he couldn’t see her now his eyes had closed, she reached between her legs to cup her mound. Even through the wool of her trousers and the linen of her smalls, she could feel her own need.
She swallowed, grinding the heel of her hand against her clitoris, desperate for the rough sensation to relieve her.
“And when you’re ready,” she whispered, “when you feel as if your pleasure will choke you, your wife will sink to her knees in front of you.” Kit licked her lips as her free hand came to rest on the arms of his chair. When had she come so close? “And she’ll look up at you withtrustandlove.”
