Page 29 of The Lady's Guide to Well-Endowed Dukes
Reaching his tip, she swirled her tongue, licking and lapping. Then, stretching her lips, she encompassed his head, suckinghim between the roof of her mouth and her silken tongue. He dropped back his head, uttering a deep, throaty growl.
Her hands she moved lower, to grip his base again—and beneath, stroking the soft skin between his balls and anus.
“Dear God, stop!” He was breathing heavily.
The intensity in his eyes fueled her own desire. She was wet and aching, licked by flames stoked by this feeling of power. She was his seducer, though his strength placed her ultimately under his dominance.
Gathering her up, he hoisted her under her bottom, lifting her in his arms towards the bed. There she wrapped her legs about his waist as he kissed her neck and shoulders, her collarbone, her breasts. At last, she dragged his mouth to meet hers, and opened to him, wanting kisses rough and deep.
His shaft nudged beneath her, sliding between her legs, against her cleft. She rubbed herself until her cream coated him, riding his length with abandon, in the only way possible. Then she shifted, taking him in her hand, guiding his tip to her slick, molten slit.
“Stella!” The look in his eyes was desperate.
She eased his head between her inner lips and held him there.
This wasn’t just for herself.
She wanted him to know her this way—to sink into her softness and be consumed by the heat of sweet flesh, to know the all-consuming, enveloping ecstasy of burying himself inside her. She wanted to hear him moan as he moved, and moan harder when he felt her move with him. She wanted to rock him to greater heights until he knew only the joining of their bodies.
This would make him indelibly hers; always, always, always.
As she took him further inside, she screamed silently, for the sensation was beyond what she could have imagined. Yet her body responded, stretching to take what it craved. Her wetnesstrickled, helping him gain purchase. It was torture and pleasure. Her heartbeat was like thunder, and she struggled to breathe.
“So tight! I never knew…” He took a jagged breath, retreating slightly, before moving inside her again.
She cried out audibly this time, though he gave her only a fraction of himself. The pain was savage but swiftly became something else. Her pulse pounded within her sex, and then she felt an easing.
She was clinging to him, her nails raking his back, and he was inside her. Not fully, of course, but as much as she could bear.
He pulled back, then slid forward, as slowly and gently as if she were a true virgin. The sensation was no longer piercing.
“Theo.” She brought up one hand to cradle his cheek and realized there were tears upon it.
“I can’t last. It’s too much…” He gasped.
Quickly, she grasped him. In the heat of the moment, he might press forward. So far she was only bruised, but his size was formidable. They couldn’t risk him accidentally tearing her.
“Stella!” His moan came as she slipped him from her sheath, and his seed drenched her mound and cleft.
“You’re unhurt?Stella, you must tell me!” Rockley’s anguish was real, holding her close then putting her from him—as if he could tell from her expression alone whether he’d harmed her.
“I’m fine, truly.” She kissed his palm. “You were more….bigger…but in a good way. I told you it was possible. We can keep trying…” It was hard to put into words how she felt.
“Thank God.” He folded her to his chest. “I didn’t expect you to…and then you did…and I couldn’t stop myself. It was so damn wonderful. I’d no idea, and you felt so good.” He dropped hisforehead to hers. “You’ve stolen a piece of me. It’s yours forever now. I don’t think I’ll ever feel…”
“Hush.” She brought a finger to his lips. She didn’t want him to say something that wasn’t real, just because his emotions were overwhelming him. Men believed all manner of things in the afterglow of their orgasm; things that couldn’t be relied upon. If he were to tell her what she hoped he would, there were better times for that.
He was already growing sleepy.
She turned, letting him curl around her back. In no time at all, his breathing changed. He was asleep, and she guessed it would take a trumpet blast to rouse him.
Without difficulty, she moved his arm and rose from the bed. The room was dim, the curtains upon the larger windows being drawn. However, there was sufficient light from a single unshaded porthole, through which moonlight cast illumination. On quiet feet, she found his bathroom and attended to herself there. Then she located her chemise and slipped it over her head.
In the morning, in the light of day, she would ask him his intentions. She had to know. Not just if he could love her but if he saw a future for them. To carry on as they were? Impossible. Her own feelings she was now certain of, but she would not declare them until she knew his mind.
No matter what the future held, he wouldn’t forget her. She was his first, and he would always belong to her, in a sense, because of that claiming. If he went ahead and married his bride, he would remember these days and nights. All else might be lost to her, but not her place in his memory.
Soft snores came from the bed.
