Page 64 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
‘Tired, then,’ he said, throwing an arm over his eyes. ‘You should have said when I first arrived. I promise, you are entitled to your peace if that is what you want.’
She leaned over him, her hair falling forward to brush over his chest. He moved his arming, frowning up at her. ‘Don’t tease. It doesn’t become you.’
She threw one leg over him and came up on her knees so she straddled his thighs, but not sitting down.
His whole expression changed. No longer disgruntled, but intrigued and hopeful. ‘Rose?’
He sounded hopeful, too.
She glanced down to see him beautifully aroused. When they joined she knew it would feel wonderful. But first she wanted to do a little exploring.
Heat rushed to her cheeks at her wanton thoughts.
But when she looked up to see his face, to read his expression, his gaze was fixed on her breasts.
A hand reached out to cup her and it felt wonderful and gentle, tender.
She grazed a thumb over his flat nipple, ran her fingers through the rough smatter of hair in the centre of his chest. His breathing hitched at her touch.
He grinned. ‘I see what you are about. Trying to seduce an innocent young man.’
She circled his nipple with a fingertip and watched in fascination at the way the nipple furled up tight the same way hers did when he touched them. She leaned forward and licked. The little bud felt like a bead against her tongue. He moaned softly.
‘It is hard to imagine you as innocent,’ she said, sitting up to regard the result of her efforts.
He tried to look insulted, but his pout was adorable. ‘I was until my brother Ralph introduced me to a local widow looking for a young man to make her happy. She taught me all I needed to know.’
‘She pleased you?’ She bent forward to lick the other nipple as if she could swipe away memories of that other woman.
He groaned. ‘What were you saying?’
The girls had been right. A man with lust on his mind lost the ability to think. ‘About the widow.’
He gasped as she grazed the hard nub with her teeth. ‘Rose!’ He stroked her hair back from her face. ‘How sensual you are,’ he said. ‘She was a kind lovely woman. I was very fond of her. Also very disappointed to come home from university and learn she had married again. But then I hadn’t met you.’
Her heart gave an odd little squeeze. ‘Don’t try your charming ways with me, your Dukeship.’
He laughed and that sound, that rascally look on his face, was what she had been looking for. As a reward, she bent, intending to give his lips a brief kiss before setting about completing her plan, but he caught her around the nape and held her while he deepened the kiss and they both became breathless.
But she wasn’t about to be deterred. Once more she rose up on her knees, working her way backwards.
His eyes widened. He reached out as if to stop her, then let his hands fall away. ‘Leaving already, Miss Nightingale?’
‘I can’t leave, this is my bed.’ She swooped down to swirl her tongue in his navel.
He gasped. ‘Oh, you really don’t want to—’
The gravel in his voice made her insides clench. The girls were right about this also. She slid back another few inches, until her prize was right where she needed it. She grasped it firmly, pausing to admire the pulsing life of it, the darkness of the skin, the rigid length, and dipped down to swirl her tongue around the blunt head that gave her so much pleasure.
The taste was remarkable. Salty, male, hot against her tongue. His hips came up in silent plea. She glanced up to see the agony of extreme pleasure etched on his handsome features as he watched her with hot eyes.
She took him into her mouth and he cried out, a rough feral sound from deep in his throat. As she swirled and licked this most pleasurable part of him, she learned what made him gasp and what made his hips buck out of control, and in the end, that when she drew hard on that part of him, learned what drove him to a pitch where he could hold out no longer.
In a flash of movement, he lifted her up and had her beneath him, driving home to the hilt. She gave herself up to his pleasure with an indescribably joy.
Sometime later, as she lay scarcely able to breathe, their hearts pounding in tandem, he cuddled her in his arms and stroked her hair. She felt...blissfully happy. Safe.
A dream, of course, but lovely none the less.
