Page 69 of In Need of a Duke
Charlotte whimpered, greedy for more.
“I’ve dreamed of you plenty. But it’s been far too long. I want to taste you, Lottie. I want to feel your release.”
He lowered himself more, then shoved the fabric up to her waist, and slipped two fingers against her, rubbing slow circles.
It felt as if she would shatter.
“Yes, like that. I can feel how close you are, Charlotte. Do you want your release? Do you want me to keep going?”
And as if to tease, he stopped his touch and waited for her answer.
“Yes,” she whispered back, pushing herself up on her elbows to watch.
He tilted his head toward the ceiling and groaned, then bent down and pressed his mouth against her quim and licked.
Charlotte collapsed back against the bed and moaned, clamping her hand over her mouth to be quiet as he slipped his fingers inside of her wet heat. With each lick, he nearly undid her, driving her to some new height she had never experienced. And as amazing as it felt, she knew that, after tonight, it wouldn’t be enough.
Everything tightened within her. She reached out and ran her hand through his hair, tugging, trying to keep herself from spinning apart. He glanced up at her, his face between her thighs, and she was certain it was the most erotic scene she had ever experienced.
She rocked her hips, pressing against his tongue until that tightness snapped. She cried out, bucking against the bed as her quim quivered around his fingers and against his mouth. She rode out her pleasure, her pulse thrumming in her chest as she struggled to catch her breath, panting.
“Ian,” she said at last.
Slowly, he removed his fingers, then crawled back up the length of her body and kissed her. She tasted herself on his mouth, felt his erection pressed against her thigh.
“What a good girl,” he whispered next to her ear. “Can you feel how hard I am for you, Lottie? How much I want you? That’s how I’ve spent the past eight years. Wanting you, dreaming of you. Only you.”
He crawled next to her and lay on her pillow, the moonlight shining down on him as if he were an archangel.
“Hate me if you want, Lottie, but I don’t hate you. Not even a little. But I am…” He rolled over so their eyes met. “I have never stopped wanting you. And to feel you come apart under my touch, only makes me want you more. To discover what we could share.”
“You talk too much when you’re drunk.”
“I remember what you’re like when you’ve had too much brandy, Honeybee. Is that why you were touching yourself?”
Lord, he knew her so well. What had started as a quiet proposal in Hyde Park all those years ago had, by that evening, turned to them sneaking away to her parent’s library after brandy and lemon cakes to celebrate. Kissing up against the stacks had turned to more, and she had left that room no longer a virgin, vowing she loved Ian best of all.
She felt the heat of a blush on her cheeks at the mere memory of that night, thankful for the dark room and forever grateful that, though frustrating, his wicked mouth was so skilled at other things. “You can stay in my room tonight.”
“Good, I was planning on it.” His eyes were heavy, and there was a hint of a grin on his lips. “You are not very quiet.”
“I’ll practice with you if you’d like.”
He opened one eye and reached for her face, drawing her mouth against his. “Please.”
CHAPTER 19
Apples.
That’s all Ian could think of as he rolled over and tangled into some sweet softness. His fingers sank into smooth flesh while the rest of him was hard with need.
And his damn head throbbed.
Reluctantly, he cracked one eye open when he heard her soft whimper. He was trapped between sleep and alertness, but he didn’t wish to wake and break the dream.
Slowly, the evening prior began to flood back. Drinking at his club, then at a tavern somewhere before arriving in Mayfair, hearing Charlotte from the doorway moan his name with her hand between her legs. The taste of her... the way she shuddered around his fingers as pleasure rushed over her body, and Ian glanced up at her from between her thighs.
Christ.
