Page 76 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
She smiled up at him with something wicked and proud. The reaction she elicited from such a simple act was intoxicating. The control she felt… Slowly, she began rubbing, biting her lip at the naked desire surging across his visage as his head tipped back, revealing the column of his masculine throat.
But then, without warning, he pushed her back onto the soft moss, caught her thighs in his hands, and pulled her to the edge of his reach. She let out a startled gasp at the suddenness of it—until he bent over her, kissed her hard, and whispered against her lips, “I’m going to take you now. Properly.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Please.”
He lined himself up. A shiver of anticipation thrummed through her. Their bodies melded into each other in a celestial union.
Emma cried out, clinging to him, the sudden stretch making her gasp—but the pain was fleeting, overtaken by the glory of him inside her. He stilled, breathing hard against her throat, his hands braced on either side of her face.
“God, you are perfect,” he ground out. “So warm. You feel like you were made for me.”
She moaned, arching beneath him, her legs wrapping around his waist as he began to move. The rhythm he set was gentle, deep, claiming—his body driving into hers with the smoothest motions, and yet every thrust was measured. He kissed her through it all—her neck, her jaw, her mouth, her breasts—his mouth never far from her skin.
“Mine,” he murmured between kisses. “You are mine, Emma. Say it.”
“Yours,” she gasped. “Only yours.”
He gripped her thighs tighter and angled his hips, driving into her deeper. Each thrust sent a cry tumbling from her lips. She met him move for move, rising to meet his every stroke, the tension inside her building again—faster this time, hotter.
Just when she teetered on the edge, Damien slowed, withdrawing almost completely. Emma whimpered in protest,but he didn’t let her go far. Instead, he caught her hips and shifted her.
She didn’t resist. She let him guide her down, breasts to the mossy earth, her cheek resting on her forearm, legs parted just enough. He followed her down, his pectorals brushing her back, one arm sliding beneath her to cradle her ribcage as though she were something precious even now.
His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Stay like this for me. I want to feel all of you. Every inch.”
Emma swallowed, her heart swelling at the sound of his voice. This was no longer just pleasure—it wasdevotion.
She nodded, the motion small but sure.
He kissed her spine once, then entered her again, this time with a slow, devastating slide that made her entire body go taut. In this position, he was impossibly deep, impossibly close. His pelvis met her hips with each thrust, his chest blanketing her back.
He kissed her shoulder, her neck, the place behind her ear that made her shiver. One hand found her breast, cupping it with gentle reverence. She cried out, grabbing at the moss-covered ground. She felt him everywhere. Around her, inside her,withher.
“I love the sounds you make,” he breathed, nuzzling her hairline. “I want to hear all of them.”
Each stroke struck some devastating, perfect place inside her. He reached around with one hand, fingers finding her pearl and rubbing in tight, insistent circles.
Emma turned her head to the side, catching his gaze in the periphery, his perfectly handsome face, that audacious bulge of his throat.
“Let go for me,” he whispered. “Let me have you like this.”
And she did.
Her climax overtook her with the slow, glorious intensity of a sunrise, brilliant and burning and boundless. Her entire body tensed, her back arching slightly beneath him, her lips parting in a soundless cry. Tears sprang to her eyes—not from pain, but from the overwhelming rightness of it all. Of him. Of being held like this. Taken like this.Loved like this.
She sobbed his name, trembling, her release pulsing around him.
He collapsed forward, covering her with his body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her shoulder, her spine, her hair. Their breaths mingled, ragged and warm. He didn’t pull out. Didn’t move.
He only held her.
And in that tangled, breathless silence, Emma felt it—the stunning weight of everything they had shared. The trust, the desire, the wild, aching love that had always burned between them but had never had words.
Now it had been spoken.
In sweat, in moans, in skin and sinew and the raw pounding of hearts.
He nuzzled her neck. “You are everything,” he whispered.
