Page 48 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
It was the strangest sensation, to be holding a woman, kissing a woman, feeling a woman’s heat cradling his hardness…and for her to be wearingtrousers. This wasn’t Thorne’s first assignation in a carriage, far from it, but usually by now in this position the woman had her skirts up around her hips and he could plunge his fingers—or something else—into her damp heat.
This? This was torture.
Delicious, delightful, delectable torture.
He was in heaven.
His cock ached, pushing closer and closer to where it needed to be. The barrier their trousers provided was a tease, mocking him. So close, yet so far.
But for Kit…Kit didn’t seem to mind it at all.
Each time she rocked forward, sliding the seam of her trousers—and the hot little seam of her thighs—along his hardness, she let out a little gasp. He wanted to unbutton her trousers, to shove his hand inside, to cup her desire, to urge her tolet go.
But this was on her terms. She had to ask for—
“Please, Thorne,” she whimpered.
“Aye, lass.” His lips were on her jaw, then her temple, then her ear, as she pressed closer. “Take what ye need. It’s my turn to give ye what ye—”
“Thorne!” Kit lurched forward suddenly pressing her barechest against him, clutching at his arms, taking her weight on her knees so she could slam her hips forward.
She was coming.
She’d come on his cock, and he couldn’t even feel it, because her delicious little cunny was hidden inside clothing that looked too much like his.
Thorne couldn’t decide if this was fittingly hilarious, or a reason to wail and gnash his teeth. Perhaps both.
With a sigh, Kit slumped against him, her cheek coming to rest on his shoulder, her breath fluttering the hair at his temples.
“Dio Benedetto,”she finally murmured, her breathing slowing.
Thorne’s cock still throbbed almost painfully against her warmth, straining, straining…but he didn’t mind. This was what she’d needed, what he’d wanted. Days ago, this cheeky little valet of his had brought him to orgasm using nothing but herwords. The least he could do was allow her to use his body to find pleasure.
When the coach turned, he recognized the approach to Stroken House, and shifted unconsciously. Kit slowly sat upright, pale eyes wide in the dim light.
“Almost home,” he murmured, and she cursed under her breath.
In the scramble to get her shirt and waistcoat re-buttoned, Kit slid from his lap. Thorne stuffed her neckcloth into his pocket, hoping the coachmen wouldn’t recall exactly how his valet had been dressed when “he” entered the carriage, and stooped to feel around for the dropped coat.
“Here,” he offered gruffly, and he thought he saw her smile right before she shoved her arms into the sleeves.
Kit was righted moments before the door opened and light spilled in. Both of them were breathing heavily, scrambling about like naughty little children.
In the sudden illumination, Thorne wondered if anyone else could tell she’d been thoroughly kissed. Wondered if he looked as unraveled as she did.
The way she began to chuckle told himaye.
And God help him, he joined in.
Chapter 10
Kit wasn’tcertain how they made it to Thorne’s chambers, or if they’d fooled anyone.
Her entire body was humming in the aftermath of that orgasm in the carriage. It had been truly remarkable, while at the same timenot nearly enough. The distance, the layers of cloth, only made her ache the more.
She wanted more. She wanted all of Thorne, and now that he knew the truth, there was no reason she couldn’t have it. Right?
Titsworth had said something to them, and Kit thought Thorne might have answered…but she hadn’t heard the words. She’d been too focused on controlling her breathless laughter, and the way her pulse was pounding against the inside of her temples.
