Page 52 of The Duke of Ice
Her muscles clenched, and she sucked in a breath as her orgasm crashed into her.
“Shhh.” He kissed her ear, her neck, her jaw, all while his hand kept up its relentless assault.
Before the sensations had faded, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to a chaise, where he laid her upon the cushions. She opened her eyes and saw the harsh control etched into his features. His eyes were dark, his lips parted as he pulled his cravat away. He tore his coat from his shoulders and dropped it to the floor.
He stopped and stared down at her. “Was that enough?” he asked tentatively.
She kicked her shoes off and reached for him, her fingers pulling at the buttons of his waistcoat. “My God, no.”
“Good.” He sounded relieved, which made her smile.
“Keep doing that.” He leaned down and kissed her hard and fast, his tongue sliding against hers and his teeth catching her lips as he straightened to remove his waistcoat.
“Smiling?” she asked. At his answering nod, she said, “You rarely do. I miss that.”
He stared down at her, his gaze familiarly seductive, and his lips curved up very slowly. The smile broadened until it tautened his cheekbones and lit his eyes.
Her insides turned to jelly. “Nick,” she breathed. There he was at last. “Come here.Please.” She reclined and parted her legs.
He tossed up her skirts and looked at her sex. Once, she would’ve succumbed to embarrassment and squeezed her legs closed, but Nick had taught her to be proud and confident, to use her body to please herself and him. When she’d awaited her new husband nude in their bedchamber, he’d chastised her horribly. Then when he’d discovered she wasn’t a virgin, he’d called her a whore.
She closed her eyes to banish the memories.
“What is it?” Nick’s gentle question jolted her as his lips trailed along her cheek.
She opened her eyes. “Nothing. I don’t want to think of anything else. Just you. Us. Here. Now.”
Curling her hand around his neck, she pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him, her tongue sliding into his mouth on a quest to reclaim him, even if it was just for now. He settled between her legs, and she tugged her skirts up, wishing she could disrobe. But they didn’t dare. This would have to suffice. She felt the length of his cock against her sex, his clothing the only barrier between them.
So long as her hand was in the vicinity, she put it to good use, unbuttoning his fall. She slipped her hand inside and found the warmth of his flesh. He groaned into her mouth.
His hips pressed into hers, smashing her hand between them, but bringing him into delicious contact with her hungry flesh. She worked her hand along his length and, after a few more teasing moments, pulled him free.
His fingers stroked her clitoris, spinning her toward ecstasy once more. Then he parted her flesh, and she guided him inside. He went slowly, and her body greeted his entry with a shudder. Then he filled her completely, and she knew a joy she’d never thought to experience again.
He began to move, retreating from her and then pushing forward with increasing speed. She clutched at his backside, drawing him deep inside her. Lifting her legs, she curled them around his hips. He thrust faster and tore his mouth from hers, gasping.
She dug her fingers into him and rose to meet him, their bodies snapping together in a familiar rhythm. They fit together perfectly, just as she remembered.
Thought receded from her mind as her body took over. She was only aware of his heat, his insistent thrusts, and the hard pulse of his breathing. Pressure built inside her, then broke free. Light exploded behind her eyes, and she worked to keep from crying out.
“Violet.”
She recognized the desperation in his plea as well as the clenching of the muscles in his backside. She kissed him, devouring his moan as he spilled himself inside her.
They continued to move together, their bodies slowing as satisfaction claimed them. Violet relaxed back against the cushions, releasing his mouth to take in air. He did the same, working to lower his pulse. After another moment, he left her to sit at the edge of the chaise.
He looked over at her and reached down for his cravat before offering it to her. “Do you want to use this?”
She shook her head. “Petticoats can serve more than one purpose.” She sat up and pulled her skirts down, covertly tidying their mess. “I’m surprised you don’t remember.”
“I do, in fact.” He’d looked away but now speared her with an intense stare. “I remember everything. Just as I’ll remember this.”
That sounded rather final. He’d wanted to leave their past behind and apparently thought this would do that. “Is that enough, then?” she asked quietly.
“I think it has to be, don’t you?” He swiped his hand across his mouth and briefly pulled on his chin. “We’re different people now. Surely you recognize that.”
Yes, she did. That had been wonderful and indeed reminiscent of what they’d shared. But it had been different too. There’d been an element of need and desperation, of something lost that couldn’t be found. “We can’t go back.”
