Page 86 of Never Dare a Duke
He grinned, pressing her hips even tighter against him. “Or scream with ecstasy.”
She swayed against him, shuddering, and he bent to lift her off the floor. With a gasp, she clutched his shoulders, and he wasted no time passing through the door into his bedroom. He tossed her onto his bed, and she gave a deep laugh, spreading her arms wide.
For a moment he paused, holding on to the bedpost as he looked down at her. Something inside him softened, eased, and it felt good.
“You’re wearing too many garments,” he growled, leaning over her.
She smiled. “I made it too easy for you last night.”
“Then let me show you what an expert I am at removing clothing.”
He rolled her onto her stomach, and although she started giggling at the way he tugged at her hooks, eventually she emitted sighs of pleasure as his fingers explored what he revealed. He pulled her up onto her knees, and from behind her, he began to slide her gown and corset and chemise down her body. He caught a glimpse of the two of them in his standing mirror, saw her expression of expectation and pleasure as she, too, watched their reflections. He pulled all the pins out of her hair, watched it fall around her. Her breasts, high and proud on her torso, captured his attention next. When he cupped them, fondling and caressing, she closed her eyes, as if she were too shocked to watch anymore. But she peeked at the mirror again through half-closed eyes as his hands slid down her torso, and he reached between her thighs.
Suddenly their eyes met in the mirror. She blushed and stiffened, but he only gave a wicked smile, and held her captive with his gaze. He stroked her, sliding his fingers deeper into the moistness of her. She was so warm, so ready for him, and it took everything in him not to tear his clothes from his body to have her. But her satisfaction was more important than his need. He continued to caress the soft nub of her pleasure while his other hand circled and plucked her nipple. She moaned, her head falling back on his shoulder but her eyes never breaking with his. Losing himself, he rubbed his hips into hers from behind.
He watched her face, saw her gasp, knew her climax would soon take her, but suddenly she looked panicked.
“You aren’t—” she gasped. “Shouldn’t I…lie down?”
He pressed his mouth against her ear, giving a strained chuckle. “There isn’t a rule that you be on your back, my love. Trust me to show you everything.”
That word “trust” seemed to ring between them, and her eyes clung to his. But when she nodded, he picked up his pace, and she came almost immediately, shuddering in his arms. He watched the quiver of her breasts, the ecstasy on her face, and felt as if he could spill himself before he was even inside her.
When she collapsed forward, he helped her pull her clothes away from her body, heedless of where they landed on the floor. He stripped off his coat and waistcoat, was struggling with the buttons of his shirt, when suddenly, her fingers were taking over the task for him. He felt her breasts against his chest, looked up into her eyes.
She seemed to be searching him. “Let me,” she whispered, then her shy smile blossomed into something wicked.
And inside his chest, his heart turned over. He ignored it, telling himself he only cared about his body’s response. He realized he was actually trembling. Watching her delicate fingers move over him made him so hard it was almost painful. He’d never been with a woman who wanted to explore him for her own pleasure. She helped draw his shirt over his head, then her hair brushed him as she licked his nipple.
He groaned. “Abby, what you do to me.”
And then those clever hands were unbuttoning his trousers, reaching inside to touch him. He gritted his teeth, let her explore because he knew she was so curious about everything. Sex wouldn’t be any different.
At last he kicked his trousers and drawers off and climbed up onto his bed. He stretched out on the pillow, hands behind his head. Although she smiled, she also looked uncertain.
“I told you you wouldn’t always be on your back, Abby. Take me.”
Her dark eyes went wide. “Pardon me?”
He grinned. “You don’t have to be so polite in my bed.”
Then he drew her to him, pulling her leg across his body until she straddled his thighs.
His voice went hoarse. “Touch me, Abby. Take me into you.”
And then her hand circled him, and he didn’t remember how to speak. She lifted herself, awkwardly tried to guide him, then, at the right moment, he pulled her hips down as he buried himself inside her.
“Oh, God, you feel wondrous,” he said, thrusting up inside her and retreating.
In a few moments, she realized how to lift herself, and she wholeheartedly joined in the ancient rhythm. “This feels…you feel…I can’t even describe it.”
Gritting his teeth, he murmured, “You, a writer, and you can’t even come up with words?”
She threw her head back, gasped more than laughed, then cried out when he cupped her breasts again. Then there was no more talking, no more thinking, only her hot, wet body sheathing him. His climax overpowered him, tore through him, leaving him spent and fulfilled. At last he brought her down to rest against his chest, still joined so intimately together.
He held her, stroked her hair, kissed her forehead, her nose, whatever he could reach. She looked up at him in quiet surprise, and he remembered how last night he had simply left her, and she a virgin.
“Forgive me for last night,” he whispered into her hair. “My haste, the way I left you…”
