Page 56 of The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables)
He pressed down on top of her, relishing her body beneath his. He speared into her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers and his body throbbing with need. She arched up into him, pressing her chest against his. He realized there was something missing. He brought his hand up her side and cupped her breast. Only there was no breast.
Well, he knew she had them. He’d seen them at Lady Colne’s ball. Rather, he’d seen their shape. He wanted toactuallysee them. Or at least feel them.
He moved his hand back to her waist and tugged the shirt from her breeches. He found the hem and slipped beneath it, skimming his hand up along her bare flesh. She gasped into his mouth. She was warm and soft, and he was going silently but fervently mad with desire.
The shirt lifted with his movements, bunching between them. At last, he reached her chest and encountered linen. She’d bound her breasts. He ran his hand over the fabric, searching for how to remove the offending piece. There was a knot in the middle, but his attempts to loosen it failed utterly.
He ended the kiss, tugging at her bottom lip with his teeth. Her eyes opened. The black of her dilated pupils nearly engulfed the iris, and her mouth was kiss red.
“What torture is this?” he asked as he tried futilely to undo the knot.
“It seemed necessary.” She brought her hands up and took over from him, quickly loosening the fabric. “I can’t…” She looked away from him.
She wanted him to stop. He didn’t blame her. Hell, he was a beast anyway. Disappointment curled through him. “It’s all right. I’m afraid I quite lost my head.”
She tried to rise. He sat back, giving her the space she needed. She came up off the bed and whisked the shirt over her head, shocking him. “I didn’t want you to stop. I just can’t take this off without help. Well, I suppose I can, but it’s easier with assistance. My maid wraps it rather tightly.”
He stared at her, his mouth moistening with need. She was a gift. He had no idea what he’d done to deserve her, but he wouldn’t question the grace with which she’d been given to him.
He grasped one of the edges of the strip of fabric and began to unwind it around her. He went slowly, once again enjoying the slow, meticulous removal of her clothing. It was almost unbearably erotic. As much as he hated her masculine costume, he thrilled to the revelation of her form. It made her even more feminine, more beautiful, more irresistible.
When he got to the final wrap, her breasts taunted him. At last their shape was exposed to him. He snatched the fabric away then, desperate to have her free and open to his hungry gaze.
“You can see why it’s no stretch for me to dress as a man. I’m afraid my curves are almost nonexistent.”
He heard her words but couldn’t have disagreed more. Her breasts were small but lush and round, with perfect pink nipples just begging for his kiss. He pushed her back against the pillows and spread her hair out over the white linen. He traced his hands down her neck, along her collarbones, and circled her breasts before cupping them gently. “You are curved in precisely the way you are meant to be, and you are stunning. I don’t know why you have these inaccurate views of yourself, but allow me to disabuse you of them right now.”
He moved down her rib cage, noting her slender but supple build. She was athletic, graceful, utterly perfect in his eyes. But there was more to see. He found the fall of her breeches and unbuttoned them with quick flicks of his fingertips. The sound of her breathing ceased, and he realized she was holding her breath while he worked.
He grasped the waistband of the breeches and tugged them down, glad to see there were no smallclothes barring his view. The thick, dark thatch of her curls greeted him as he stripped the garment away. Her breath came back in fast pants.
“Lucy.” He dragged his fingertips along the arc of her hip and the curve of her thigh. “If you have any flaws, I don’t see them. All I see is a beautiful woman I want with every part of my being.” He untangled himself from the bedclothes and came over her, bracing his hands on either side of her head. He still wore his shirt, but that was all that lay between them now. “If you don’t believe me, let me show you.”
She thrust her hands into his hair. “Yes. Please.” And she kissed him again, her tongue tracing over his lips before plunging into his mouth and claiming what she wanted.
He kissed her deeply, pressing his body against hers. She twisted and arched beneath him, stirring his arousal. The hem of his shirt just covered his cock, and he had no plan to reveal it to her. This moment wasn’t for him but for her. He meant to give her an experience she’d never forget. This woman who’d been deprived of so much deserved nothing less.
He stroked the side of her neck, feeling her pulse strong and sure against his fingertips. He dragged his mouth along her jaw, kissing and licking, tasting her. She pulled at his hair, moaning. He smiled against her, reveling in her uninhibited response.
Caressing her collarbone, he moved lower until he found her breast. He cupped her again before coming to the nipple. With thumb and forefinger, he pulled and lightly squeezed. Her moans grew louder and her chest came up, seeking more of his touch. He brought his mouth down her neck, ravaging her flesh along the descent. Clasping her breast, he held her captive while he took the nipple into his mouth and suckled her—soft, then harder, then soft again.
“Andrew.” Her deep, but oh so feminine voice cloaked him in desire.
He made love to her breasts in equal measure, using his hands and mouth to taunt and pleasure her. She moved with abandon, and her breathing grew more irregular. He trailed his fingers down her rib cage and glided them over her hip to her thigh. He went slowly to her core, gently stroking her curls and then finding her clitoris, that sweet nub of need that would send her over the edge.
Her legs parted, allowing him easier access, and he was again thrilled and pleased with her fervor, but not surprised. He continued to focus on her breast with his mouth while touching her, softly at first and then with more purpose. She was wet, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into her heat. But he couldn’t do that. This was already far more than they ought to be doing.
He pressed his finger into her, and she gasped. He worked at her clitoris, increasing his pressure and speed until her desperate cries filled the room. Her response only intensified his desire.
He left her breast and moved down her body. He pushed her thighs apart and focused on her sex, parting her pink folds and licking her delicious flesh. She bucked up, her fingers threading into his hair.
“What are youdoing?”
He didn’t think she really required an answer, and he didn’t need any further encouragement. He thrust his tongue into her and stroked her folds, her clitoris. Her hips moved relentlessly as her hands pulled at his head and shoulders. She began to quiver, her muscles jerking. He moved his mouth up to that most sensitive spot and slid his finger into her, filling her again and again until he felt her sheath contract around him.
His cock twitched, desperate to replace his finger. He’d have to find release, and he didn’t think it would take long.
He stroked into her while her orgasm crested, moving more slowly once it subsided. She panted as she lay back, spent, her legs sprawled around him.
