Page 61 of The Phantom Duke
“I cannot look anywhere else.”
In response, she closed the gap between them once more and took his face in her hands. She kissed his left cheek, the cheek which bore what he described as his curse. He tensed and gripped her arms as though to cast her away from himself.
But she wrapped her arms about his shoulders, hanging on tightly and keeping her lips pressed to his cheek. Her lips feltnothing different, only the faint scratchy sensation of his facial hair brushing wonderfully against her lips.
They whirled, a pirouette in the water. The feel of his warm skin against hers. The feel of his cheek, which had not been touched except by anyone but her. It was intoxicating. It made her want to throw her cares away. Wanting to throw away her fears and embrace the sensations that were storming the ramparts of her willpower.
“Are you certain that you do not wish to be prey?” Damien murmured, his breath hot against her neck. “You might find that you enjoy the experience, given that you are so unconventional.”
Her breath hitched. “Might I? I am not entirely convinced of that.”
He kissed her jaw slowly and carefully. Then, he turned his head, and his hair brushed against her neck. “Perhaps, I could persuade you.”
Her heart beat madly. If he delayed any longer, Maria thought that she might come undone. She would burst apart with need for him.
Damien kissed her lips, stealing her breath. He held her above the most primal part of himself. Maria kissed him back with all the force that she could muster, refusing to submit to his domination without a fight. If he wished to persuade her, she would see that it took no small amount of effort on hispart! She could feel its hardness, feel how close they were to consummation. It made her breath catch, her pulse race.
While the water might be cold, Maria’s body was hot and alive with anticipation. Her chest ached for want of air by the time he deigned to break the kiss. She gasped, her lips tingling and swollen in the aftermath.
“Convinced?” he asked, infuriatingly smug.
She was in his hands in more ways than one. Damien was clearly the more experienced. He behaved as though pleasuring a woman was something he knew. Maria behaved purely by instinct, allowing herself to be led by him despite her best efforts.
She wanted to endure the anticipation. Wanted to be tantalized. “Not yet,” she said. “You shall have to try harder.”
His fingers dug into her buttocks with bruising force, and she squirmed against him, their bodies colliding roughly. Their hips struck, his hardness touched her thigh, her core brushed against his stomach. “Like this?” he asked. “Or do I need to resort to bolder strategies?”
“Bolder?”
What could he possibly do that wasbolder? He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, and kneaded the flesh of her buttocks. She groaned, her hips jerking reflexively forward. Hislips met hers without warning, his tongue slipping between her startled, parted lips. A strangled sound tore from her throat. He kissed her with reckless abandon, as though he was a starving man and only she could sate his hunger.
Her lips writhed, and her tongue quested. She felt that she was picking up on the techniques of lovemaking with surprising speed. Inspired, Maria broke the kiss and lowered her head. Damien gasped as she bit at his neck, as he had done to her. Another mark of ownership, one more than she bore. Her fingers raked his back, and he squeezed her rear hard. A ragged groan tore from her throat.
Damien steered them both through the pool to the nearest edge. He lifted her up and deposited her on the stone lip. She squealed at the touch of the frigid stone and reflexively pressed her thighs together in a vain attempt to recover some warmth. The place between her thighs was warm and damp, and Maria knew instinctively that it was not water. It did notfeellike water, but something thicker. Her feet traced invisible patterns across his chest as though exploring him by any means she could. He seized her ankles and pulled her legs apart.
“Lie back,” he ordered.
She did, shivering. “The stone is cold,” she complained, as it leeched heat from her back.
“You will not suffer for long,” Damien said.
He grabbed her hips, pulling them towards the edge. He kissed the soles of her feet. Then her ankles, her calves, knees and then thighs. Every kiss was like a branding, and she squirmed beneath his ministrations.
“Please!” she gasped.
Please, hurry. Please, I cannot bear it much longer.
“Please?” he drawled, a hint of playful mocking in his voice.
There, he slowly licked a path from knee to loin, moving from one thigh to the next and leaving Maria quivering and gasping. Her hips bucked, and a whine tore from her throat. Finally, he reached a part of her that she covered with her hands, her fingers tangled in the thick curls. Her thighs were shaking, her heels pressed hard against the sides of the pool.
“Why do you feel the need to hide?” Damien asked, placing his hand atop her own. “Are you under the impression that I know not what a woman’s body has there?”
She moaned, whispered, murmured and writhed. Damien was an expert, and she felt that her body was being played. She understood that his expertise must have come from other women. It maddened her. Jealousy swept through her like fire. But through it all was a fierce pride that he had chosen her. That he belonged to her.
Afterwards, she lay back, uncaring about the hard, cold stone beneath her. She panted and then pulled at the blindfold. Damien put a hand over her eyes, holding it in place. She felt his body next to hers, and her muscles all drew taut in anticipation of what he might do next. Would he take her the way that a husband ought?
“Why would you do that?” he asked sternly.
