Page 81 of His Stolen Duchess
Georgina tore her eyes away from his girth and looked up at him. She believed every word he’d said and felt his truth in the steady, unflinching way he gazed at her.
“I know,” she whispered.
He lifted his knees onto the bed and inched his body closer to hers like a wild animal with a prey set in its sights. All at once, he was touching her, one hand gripping her curved waist, pulling her into him, the other claiming her breast, his fingers pressing with a hunger that made her gasp.
Georgina’s breathing became shaky as he held her fast. She was his plaything, laid bare and vulnerable on his bed. She looked him in the eyes, not daring to look away, drawn to the quiet promise of safety and refuge shimmering in his eyes.
He held her a moment longer, then moved upwards with purpose, lifting one hand to cradle her head and tip it back. His unrestrained kiss was deep and possessive, and she melted into it, her body answering his with a passion pulled from the strength he poured into her.
She became intoxicated by the potency of his heat, hunger, and scent. His tongue hungrily traced the seams of her lips before plunging inside her moist, inviting mouth, exploring its recesses, and tasting her with wild abandon. He lowered his body onto hers, pressing her farther into the bed, encasing her with heat and weight like a living cocoon of desire.
“We’ve waited long enough,” he murmured against her lips, his hands tracing a slow path down her midriff, over her hip, and along the curve of her inner thigh. “You want this, don’t you? Open to me and aching for more.” His fingers found the soft folds of her intimate opening as he spoke.
Her buttocks tensed as he plunged into her with two fingers, and she arched her back, moaning, breaking their kiss, incapable of concentrating on anything but the feeling of pure desire that flowed through every crevice of her being.
“You’re ready for me, aren’t you, Duchess?” Lysander whispered, desire threading through his every word.
When she couldn’t answer him because of the overwhelming emotions and sensations swirling within her, he held her face in his fingers, tilted her head to look her in the eyes, and repeated his question.
“Yes,” Georgina gasped.
Lysander removed his fingers from her sodden core and swept his hands over her body. To Georgina, it felt as though he possessed a multitude of hands; his touch was on every inch of her body, simultaneously stroking her inside and out, hurling her into an unspeakable fervor.
“You’re an exquisite woman, Georgina.” His hands continued to move erotically across her skin, making her quiver with desire as he absorbed every aspect of her. “And every inch of you belongs to me.”
He placed one knee between her legs, then the other. As his hands roved over her, he eased her legs apart with his knees. She was open to him. His hand slid downward again, seeking her most intimate place with practiced ease, parting her warm, damp folds with a knowing touch.
Georgina whimpered as his fingers found the slick heat of her center, every subtle movement of his fingertips maddening her with their precision. It was almost unbearable, yet every flick and stroke only increased her need.
“I can feel how eager you are for me,” he murmured. “You’re so warm… and so wet.”
Each word he spoke rumbled through her like rushing water, but it was his tone, more than the words themselves, that thrilled her. Beneath his commanding, powerful cadence ran an unmistakable undercurrent of desire.
“Please,” Georgina groaned.
Lysander chuckled darkly. “Is that the best you can do?”
He didn’t give her a chance to answer. His mouth found the curve of her neck, his teeth grazing her nape before he claimed it with a sudden, fervent hunger. His fingers slipped inside her again, and when he found the aching center of her, she arched her back with a gasp and raised her hips to draw him in more deeply. Lysander’s other hand claimed her breast, kneading the plump mound, his thumb circling her erect nipple as she moaned.
He moved his fingers in slow, deliberate circles, his thumb caressing her swollen bud until waves of warmth began to shudder through her, threatening to undo her. His mouth descended to her chest, where he drew her free nipple between his lips, licking it softly before giving it a tender bite.
Georgina’s core pulsed, and she sank deeper into the bed, closing her eyes to concentrate on every sensation. Her lips parted, and she wanted to beg him to take her fully, but she couldn’t form the words. A low moan escaped her lips as he toyed with her, keeping her poised at the very edge of her release.
“Do you have anything else to say for yourself, Duchess?” he asked, planting a kiss on her breast.
Georgina tried to focus on her words once more, but she could only moan and whimper.
“I thought that might be the case,” he replied. “Then I’ll do with you as I please.”
With a shift of Lysander’s hips, he plunged his pulsing, rigid shaft into her, slipping in like a well-oiled sword into its sheath.
A bright streak of light flashed behind Georgina’s closed eyes as an all-consuming pleasure exploded deep within her. Her body yielded rather than bracing itself, melting as he pressed into her, anchoring her with the weight of his hunger. The sheer force of her release lifted her far from flesh and thought.
Each thrust of his hips drew her farther away from herself and lifted her upwards. She savored every thunderous rise and fall as her body shuddered and pulsed.
The way his length filled her with each stroke against her folds, his rough squeeze of her breast that he timed with every thrust, the grip of his teeth as they held and pulled at her neck—each sensation layered into the next. Beads of sweat glistened on her breasts and back. Their chests collided repeatedly in a rhythmic, savage waltz. And the mingled, raw, unmistakable scent of them was everything she had imagined. And everything she hadn’t.
“Not yet,” Lysander growled as he once again brought her to the edge of reason.
