Page 94 of His Auctioned Duchess
Her cries echoed as he began to thrust into her, deeper and deeper.
The storm of their passion threatened to overwhelm her as he brought her to climax once, twice…moreuntil her world became nothing but her and Richard. He began to move quicker and rougher. She squeezed around him and trembled as pleasure shot through her body.
Richard’s breath grew ragged, and he started to pull away from her.
“No!” Caroline wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer again. “Please,” she husked.
“Caroline, you–” His voice rasped urgently, roughened by his struggle for control. “You told me you feared–”
“Not any more. I trust you. Ineedyou,” she whispered, her eyes dark with desire.
Richard whispered her name and thrust his length back into her, hard enough that any former effort she had made to be quiet was forgotten. With a shudder and one final push the liquid heat of his passion erupted into her, filling her as she buried her face against his chest. A final wave of ecstasy coursed throughher, leaving her limp while the last ripples of pleasure chased themselves over her skin.
They lay still for a moment, the only sound their own labored breaths. As their hearts began to slow Richard bent down to plant a soft kiss on Caroline’s forehead.
“Whatever care I intended to take, you have undone me utterly,” he murmured into her hair.
Turning her head, she smiled up at him. “You need a little undoing, my love.”
His lips parted, unmoored once again by the words he’d never thought to hear. “I will never tire of hearing that from you.”
She smiled. “I love you, Richard.”
“Well, I suppose I love you too then,” he replied, eyes sparkling.
Caroline laughed and playfully pushed at his chest.
Richard brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face.
“So, what shall we do for the rest of the night, love?”
Caroline tilted her head up as if for a kiss as she replied.
“I have just the thing in mind.”
CHAPTER 29
Later that night, Richard sprawled in his shirtsleeves near the fire while Caroline sat cross-legged on the carpet, sketchbook propped on her knees.
"Hold still," she instructed, her voice carrying a touch of playful authority as she tapped her pencil thoughtfully against her chin. She was sketching, capturing his likeness on paper, and she needed him to stay perfectly motionless.
"I have been holding still for ten minutes," he complained, his voice tinged with exaggerated irritation. "My patience is not infinite, you know." He shifted slightly in his seat, trying to keep the stiffness from settling in his muscles.
"Then try harder," she replied, her tone turning sweet, almost teasing as she attempted to coax him into compliance. She glanced up from her sketchpad, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, enjoying this little game.
“This is not what I had in mind for our wedding night, you know.”
He scowled at her—his expression deliberately over-the-top, with his eyebrows furrowing dramatically and his lips pressing together in an exaggerated pout. The sight was so absurdly comedic that she couldn't hold back any longer.
Suddenly, laughter bubbled up from within her, spilling out in a joyous, infectious cascade of giggles. The sound was so unexpected and full of delight that it took him by surprise. She laughed so hard that her pencil slipped from her fingers, streaking a bold line across the page, bisecting his nearly finished portrait.
"You’ve ruined it," she gasped, trying to catch her breath between fits of laughter, her cheeks flushed with amusement and her eyes sparkling with tears of mirth.
“I warned you,” he said, though his lips curved in reluctant amusement. “Perhaps you should sketch something less stubborn.”
“Impossible. You are my favorite subject.”
He gave a low sound. “Flattery ill suits you, Duchess.”
