Page 92 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
In and out, in and out.
When he took her nipple deeper into his mouth, she cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation. Pleasure pooled low in her bellyas his fingers moved, his mouth suckling one bud, then the other—teasing, laving, pulling until she was gasping and trembling beneath him.
Dominic knew exactly how to touch her—how to explore. His kisses and caresses covered every inch of her, and still, he did not stop.
Was it always like this?
Even as her mind went hazy from pleasure, Marianne remembered how some women complained about pain and unfulfilled desire.
But this? She wanted more of this—always.
Dominic did not disappoint. He continued to explore, leaving her writhing beneath him. Her hands trembled as they clutched his shoulders, his kisses searing her skin.
“Dominic,” she gasped. “D-Dominic. It feels so… so good.”
“That’s it, darling,” he murmured, finally releasing her sensitive nipples. “Let go, Marianne. Let it happen.”
She did. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling and clinging to him.
Panting, she came back to herself to find his eyes dark with desire, locked onto hers. He was still hard, pressing against her thigh.
“Beautiful,” he grunted.
“It’s your turn,” she said, her cheeks flushed.
She remembered her duty—and welcomed it.
She tugged at his trousers, her hands trembling as he helped her. She swallowed hard at the sight of his length.
“You’re… big,” she stammered, her eyes wide. “I-I don’t think?—”
“I’ll be gentle,” he promised softly.
After she nodded again, he positioned himself between her thighs, hesitation flickering in his eyes.
“Are you certain? You have one last chance to say no.”
“I can?” she asked, startled.
“I’d die if you did,” he groaned. “But don’t think because I pleasured you, you have to do the same for me.”
“Really?” Her voice rose with surprise.
“Indeed. So, are you certain?” His face flushed with focus, the tip of his cock teasing her entrance.
“Yes. Please.” She barely whispered it but meant it fully.
He obeyed, entering her slowly, inch by inch, his eyes fixed on hers. She flinched at the first sting, her nails digging into his arms, but he waited patiently until the discomfort faded to a dull ache.
“D-Dominic,” she whispered, overwhelmed by how full she felt, now joined as one.
“Trust me, Marianne,” he murmured, kissing her forehead before beginning to move.
His thrusts were slow, deliberate at first, reaching places no one else had touched—just the right spots needing a nudge to ignite her. Her body arched to meet every thrust.
He settled into a rhythm—in and out. Sometimes he pulled out to the tip before sliding back in deeper, mostly staying buried inside her as he drove rhythmically, building the tension low in her belly.
Tighter and tighter.
