Page 64 of A Bride for the Icy Duke
She looked down at her body as though seeing it for the first time. “Do you think so?”
“Yes.” His voice was hoarse. He took her wrist, and after a glance at her face to ensure she felt comfortable with this, he brought her dainty hand to his arousal, placing her so she palmed him. “Here,” he gritted, forcing the words out, and forcing himself, equally, to remain still so she might feel him fully.
The last time—
But he would not think about the last time. This time, they were coming together anew.
“It is because of you,” he explained, in case she truly didn’t comprehend the magnitude of her attraction to him. “I’m this aroused because of you, Lydia. And I would very much like to experience everything with you.”
Her eyes lit up at that, and she explored with more confidence, running her hands up and down his shaft, reaching below to cup his balls, all through the material of his breeches.
She would drive him mad! And he would embrace his insanity, because he knew of no greater torture, or bliss, than this.
Her gaze flicked back to his face. “You like this,” she observed.
“I do.”
Slowly, still with her gaze on his, she tugged at the buttons of his falls, opening them, then slowly removing them from him. He helped her tug them free, and then they were both naked together, kneeling on the bed, chest to chest. Her sweet pink nipples grazed his skin, and he felt the action right to his cock. He was painfully hard; it would take shockingly little to bring him to the brink.
And so he decided he would first devote himself to her. More than anything, he wanted to see her come, squirming and writhing as he brought about her pleasure…
“I want you,” he whispered to her, and pushed at her shoulders until she lay on her back, legs instinctively spreading. But instead of fitting his hips between them, he lowered his shoulders there instead. “And I’m going to taste every inch of you until you beg me to stop…”
“What if… what if I never want you to stop?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lydia was almost certain this was a sin. Nothing that felt thisgoodcould be anything but sinful—she knew from church that the most deliciously dark pleasures came from the devil and not from God.
And now, the devil was between her legs, his tongue flicking against her pearl, and she felt as though she had transcended into another being altogether. With every lap of his tongue, he was molding her into something else.
Something terribly wicked.
She loved every second!
His fingers dug into the flesh at her hips, and she reached down to thread her fingers through his hair. His attentions had stuck words from her, but she wanted to show him how much she enjoyed what he was doing. Every time he pressed the flat of his tongue against her, she shuddered.
And just as before, he brought her closer and closer to that wonderful peak of pleasure. She could not help it; she wouldneverbe able to help it, she realized.
This was the second time he had tasted her there, and yet it was so much better than the first. Her husband was here, and he had admitted to so much. His reticence did not come from a lack of affection for her, but rather lingering wounds that had yet to heal…
So be it! She would tend to them herself. Replace his cravings with those of a different kind—and she had plenty of ideas how to help him there.
Now, for example, his hands did not tremble, and when he came up to look at her with midnight eyes, she knew for certain he was not thinking about laudanum or grief or sleep or anything else he had indulged in these past few years…
All he was thinking of washer.
That was how it should be. And to encourage the matter, she ground her hips against his face. Immediately, he growled his appreciation.
“Such a greedy little thing you are,” he groaned lusciously, pressing the words into her skin. “Ride me. Take your pleasure.” His voice lowered still further, rumbling deliciously through her. “Use me.”
What a tantalizing request! And how easy to follow…
His hands steadied her, but left her free to move as she wanted, and he positioned himself so she could control how fast she rocked against him, and where she wanted his tongue.
The reality of taking her pleasure was even better than the concept, and it took only a few more seconds for her to tip over the edge. Her fingers fisted in the sheets, her back arched, and all the while, Alexander guided her through it.
Only when she was satiated and spent did he rise above her once more, his rock-hard stomach against hers, his thighs pressing against her inner thighs as she made room for him. His fingers went to her folds, pressing inside her with a gentle motion that made her breath catch.
