Page 68 of In Need of a Duke
“Do you want me to leave?” His voice cracked.
Charlotte licked her lips, shaking her head.
“What was that?”
“No,” she said, moving her hand between her legs again.
But suddenly, with him so close, it wasn’t enough. She had touched herself plenty of times during his time away, but having him here, knowing he could help… It was nearly too much.
“Carry on,” he said. “You look so gorgeous like that. Thinking of me.”
She whimpered again.
“I want to taste you, Lottie,” he said. “Let me taste you.”
Charlotte was anything but innocent, thanks in large part to Kate, who had introduced her to an erotic lending library the women of thetononly whispered about to avoid being shamed or embarrassed.
She had only ever dreamt of his mouth on her in that intimate way, believing that was only an act which occurred in books. But now that he asked…
Her pulse thrummed in her ear and between her thighs as she closed her eyes, terrified yet excited. “Yes.”
A year might have passed or a string of excruciating moments, either way, the room fell to silence as she waited, pushing down the regret ready to bloom at her honest answer.
Ian slowly crossed the room, keeping his eyes trained on her. The light filtered over his body, revealing the heat in his dark eyes. And though it had been years since she had seen him so completely undone, she could tell by the way he carried himself.
“You’re drunk, Ian.”
“A little.”
“You never do anything in half measure, duke.”
“Don’t call me that,” he nearly purred as he crawled up onto the bed.
Charlotte swallowed back an excited yelp.
“Is Your Grace better?”
“Lottie,” he sighed, half exasperated.
She closed her eyes as his hand reached for hers, stopping her nervous giggle.
“You were doing so well. I would hate to interrupt.”
Charlotte bucked her hips, eager for his touch, his kiss, to feel him cover her body with his. She was desperate for it.
“I hate you,” she whispered, staring up at his face as he moved over her.
“That’s a shame,” he said before dropping his mouth to hers and kissing her, slow, just as she had imagined. If she didn’t know any better, her duke was a trained assassin. At least then, she would have a justifiable reason for him disappearing on her. But not now. She wouldn’t focus on that now.
“You’re thinking too much,” he whispered, breaking apart to shower soft kisses across her face before he moved lower, pressing his lips against the juncture between her jaw and neck. “Relax.”
But that seemed impossible when her body was burning, desperate for release.
“Ian,” she sighed, pressing her bottom against the mattress, impatient. A shiver rolled over her as he lowered himself, circling his thumb over her nipple through the fabric of her chemise. Then he replaced his thumb with his lips, drawing her nipple into his mouth and licking, rolling her left breast in his hand.
Everything ached, and Charlotte was certain she was going mad.
“What did you think of when you touched yourself, I wonder?” He trailed his hand down the curve of her full stomach until he reached between her legs, the fabric separating them as he pressed against her. “My hands here? My mouth? My cock?”
