Page 69 of Unraveled By the Duke
Alexander raised an eyebrow. “I do not ask for money,” he said, almost whispering.
“I have nothing else to give,” Celia responded.
Alexander’s eyes left her face to roam down her body. She felt his lustful eyes on her breasts, her hips. Knew that he could accurately picture her without her clothes. See the birthmark on her inner right thigh, the small mole beneath her right breast. He had kissed those blemishes, licked and sucked on them. He had marked them with his teeth, just as he had her neck. Celia had discovered that while bathing that morning.
“I disagree,” he said.
He kissed her, and all thoughts fled her mind. From the moment his lips touched hers, she was transported to a world where there were no other people but them. Where there was no scandal or gossip. Where their bodies and the pleasure they could give each other were all that mattered.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding tightly as his arms wound around her waist and lifted her off the floor. His hands gripped her buttocks, squeezing possessively.
The door was flung wide and then kicked shut with a crash as he advanced into the room, with her in his arms. A dam broke within her, one that had been holding back her wanton desire for this man, one that had been cracking and groaning.
She grabbed his hair, pulling it and fastening her mouth on his neck.
“Mark me, will you?” she gasped, biting and driven half-mad with lust at the sound of his moan. “I will mark you so that there is no doubt who owns this body!” she said fiercely.
She tore at his shirt, ripping the seams and exposing his magnificent torso. She dug her nails into those slabs of muscle, she bit and squeezed her thighs around his hips.
He flung her on her bed. She cried out in surprise, and as she bounced, she was met by his body. It crashed down atop her, pinning her to the mattress, impaling her with his rigid member. It was still separated from her soft vulnerability by fabric, but he was tearing at her clothes as fervently as she tore at his. There was naked desperation in their movements, in their quick breaths and flushed faces.
Fabric tore, buttons popped. Skin was exposed for kissing, touching, and moistening. Each contact coaxed sighs and moans, whispered names and fervent promises, and requests.Celia was shocked by the words she knew and the ideas she had. Like when she put her mouth to his ear and begged to be flipped over.
At first, she was face down, then strong hands on her waist pulled her onto all fours.
Like an animal. Like two mating animals. That is what we are. And how I love it!
Her dress was already gone, but he tore at her underclothes now, ripping her petticoats down the back from neck to hips. She didn’t know that he had freed his manhood until she felt it against her buttocks.
He allowed her one brief moment to feel it. Then, with a mighty thrust, he entered her, his member slipping down to her waiting flower and inside with the ease of the most natural of acts.
Celia clung to the sheets so tightly as she bucked against him that they ripped. She felt his lips on her back, her neck as he paused his rhythm. His breath rasped, and he whispered her name over and over.
So laden with lust was that sound that it brought her to the edge of glorious climax.
She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, trying to hold back, not wanting it to end. But when Alexander resumed histhrusts, his hands reaching around to stroke her sensitive nub, she could not hold back the tide.
A heartbeat later, he joined her.
CHAPTER 22
“Peggy, where is the Duchess?” Alexander asked.
The maid jumped. She had been engrossed in cleaning the rooms he had given to Celia.
Alexander stood in the doorway, running a hand through his tousled hair to tame it. He had awoken from a deep sleep a few minutes ago and stretched his limbs only to find a cool spot where Celia had been lying. After a brief search, he returned to her rooms to find her maid hard at work.
“I saw her about fifteen minutes ago, Your Grace. She was walking out of the door leading to the stables.”
“The stables? Was she dressed for the outdoors or indoors?” Alexander demanded.
“The outdoors, Your Grace. She had a package from the kitchen and a satchel, and sturdy walking boots on her feet,” Peggy said breathlessly.
Alexander turned on his heels and strode down the hallway towards the stairs. “Did she say where she was going?” he shouted over his shoulder.
“No, Your Grace. Just out for a walk!” Peggy called back.
Out for a walk with a package from the kitchen and a satchel. That does not sound like a promenade around the gardens. It sounds like a day’s walk in the hills.
