Page 25 of The Lady's Guide to Well-Endowed Dukes
“This is what you want most of all, isn’t it?” He moved the skin back and forth at the tip, all the while looking at her: first, at her mouth, then her breasts, the gentle curve of her belly, down to her sex.
She was weeping there, cream dripping. She clenched inside, wanting him to do more than look.
If he tried to penetrate her now, would she be able to take him? The head, perhaps. She tried to imagine how it would stretch her, and how that would feel. If he took his time, would it be possible for him to enter further, to fill her more thoroughly than she’d ever experienced before? How far could he go before she was entirely crammed with that masculine organ, stuffed to the entrance of her womb? She could only conceive of him holding still at that point. For her to endure his thrusting, sliding his mammoth cock repeatedly into her sheath, would require more bravery than she possessed.
The thought made her feel quite faint,
But she had to trust that he wouldn’t hurt her.
He was now gripping the middle portion of his shaft, taking longer strokes there. Clear liquid beaded from the eye of his penis.
Instinctively, she licked her lips.
When he moved to the very base of his meat, he squeezed upward, tugging hard, then caressed the full length to take hold of the head again.
“You want me inside you.” His fisting grew faster, so that a drop of liquid fell upon Estela’s thigh. “What if I make you watch what you cannot have?”
With his free hand he reached between her legs, extending a single finger to slip inside.
She was so wet, she hardly registered the penetration, until he began stroking in rhythm to the movement of his other hand.
One finger became two, and she felt herself rising again, towards that place of pulsing delight he’d given her before. When he added a third, she dropped her legs wider, though she bit her lip against the awkwardness of the intrusion.
His breathing came gruffly now while he invaded her, all the while bringing himself to greater arousal. His cock stood proudly upright, deep-veined and dark.
Suddenly, she was climaxing again, pulsing about his fingers, mewling, and straining against the ties about her wrists. Tremors shook her, bringing every part of her body vibrantly alive, while simultaneously dashing her into a place of obliteration.
As she returned to herself, she saw the fierce expression on his face, watching her with glittering intensity. The tugs upon his erection came faster. He was going to ejaculate, on her belly, or her breasts, or over her mound. His testicles were in proportion to his cock. Did that mean his seed would flood more abundantly? There was something deliciously forbidden about the idea.
But he surprised her again. In one swift motion, he turned her over, so that her wrists crossed. With her cheek pressed firmly into the quilt, she took a rasping breath. He was lifting the back of her dressing gown to expose her buttocks.
A stab of alarm took her.
He wouldn’t attempt to enter her there!
Not that she was entirely inexperienced in the art of anal play, but she was unprepared, and he was too large for her to ever consider that desirable.
“Don’t fear. I wish… only… to…” He could barely speak.
The next she knew, he’d lowered himself and she felt a nudge between her cheeks. He was no longer pleasuring himself with his hand but between the orbs of her behind, angled so that he slid where she would naturally grip him. She was aware of his thickness, the tickle of hair, and his testicles, bumping rhythmically against her lower lips.
She parted her legs further and was rewarded by his growling appreciation.
He managed only one more stroke before spurting, hot and wet, over the dimples at the base of her spine.
He was blindedby the strength of his orgasm, exploding from his balls to suffuse every limb. He clung to her, torn apart and spent, knowing only the gloriousness of her body and the glow that radiated from deep within himself.
She was magnificent. The taste of her, and the feel—possessing her with his hands and mouth!
The look upon her face when she’d reached her climax had been almost more than he could bear; knowing that he was responsible, that her pleasure was in his power.
He hadn’t known exactly how things might play out when he’d come to her room, but he knew a woman like Estela Bongorge wanted more than chivalrous words and tender kisses.
He’d harnessed his anger to serve his purpose and, from the response he’d witnessed, he guessed he’d hit the mark. Seeing how aroused she was becoming had only spurred him on.
Nothing would be the same now. They’d known each other barely a handful of days, but it seemed far longer. Long enough for him to know that he couldn’t just let her walk off the ship at Southampton and out of his life.
He couldn’t know, truly, how she felt in return. He didn’t have the impression she was in pursuit of a husband. Her interest might be no more than physical—in which case, all she was after was a fling. It didn’t mean that they couldn’t become something more to one another, but he couldn’t take that for granted.
