Page 82 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess
Adam thrust into her so deeply she could not help but let out a low, guttural moan, legs wrapping around his hips and arms wrapping around his back to claw at his shoulders.
Finally, it seemed she had reached a breaking point.
He pounded into her with increasing speed and force, hitting spots deep within her that delivered her more pleasure than ever before—she saw stars with each delicious thrust.
“Nothing to say now, wife?” he said, his breath hot against her ear, chuckling when she could do nothing but moan in response.
“D–do not stop,” she managed, clinging to him with all her might as she neared her edge. “Please don’t stop. I’m nearly there, Adam. So close—please?—”
“Yes, that’s my good girl,” he said, redoubling his efforts. “Come for me. Fall apart, just for me.”
Finally, she tumbled over the edge. He continued to thrust into her as her pleasure peaked, growing harder still as he neared his own completion.
He shuddered, spilling into her, before the two of them collapsed, clinging to each other like two people who had just been through a great storm.
“I cannot resist you, Rosaline,” he told her, panting between his words. “I want you more than I have wanted anything in my life. I would do anything to have you like this. Every day. And every night.”
Rosaline planted a kiss on his shoulder, trying to steady her breath, her body still twitching with bliss.
“So would I,” she said, and let herself fade into sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Two days later, Rosaline put the final touches to her gown, dreading tonight’s soirée more than any other she could remember.
Why did Adam accept their invitation?
Not only would she be forced to simper and preen at her aunt’s supper party, but she would be trapped in their house unable to escape, forced to endure their endless jibes at her appearance. It made her feel like a child again.
“You are vexed, I see,” came an amused voice from the doorway of the drawing room.
Rosaline turned and caught her breath at the sight of her husband.
He looked impossibly handsome in a strict black tailcoat, black waistcoat and stiff white cravat.
His hair was brushed away from his face, and his lopsided smile was infuriatingly alluring.
“Do you blame me?” she asked as he came to stand before her. “You are forcing me to socialize with the very worst people in this world. And for what? I do not understand why we cannot cry off tonight.”
Adam smirked, his eyes darkening as she looked up at him from beneath her eyelids, hoping that her attempt to seduce him might bear fruit. But Adam’s resolve remained in place.
“We can hardly avoid your family forever, Rosaline. And I will be with you. One remark out of place, and I shall put them in theirs, just as I always do.”
His hand rose to her face as he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. The gesture was tender and set her heart beating like a drum.
“Very well,” she muttered. “But I wish we would not stay too long.”
“I promise,” he said, kissing her on the forehead as the butler announced that the carriage was ready.
Adam kept his stoic mask in place throughout the evening, feigning boredom and indifference when in reality his body was alert to any movement from the back of the house.
He wondered how Silas was getting on, walking about the room, observing the guests, looking as nonchalant as he was able.
Do not disappoint me, Silas. This could be our last chance.
He glanced across the space, taking in his hosts with a faint grimace.
The Claridge’s were in their element, despite their appearance being dramatically set apart from those around them.
