Page 57 of The Duke of Ruin
“You’re supposed to be telling me what to do,” she said.
“Right.” He reached up and raked his hand through his hair, coaxing the strands to stand on end. It made him look wild.
She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his chest, near his nipple. “You’re terribly attractive.”
“Are you sure you need direction?” he asked tightly. “You seem to be doing just fine.”
She smiled against his heated flesh. “What should I do with my handdown here?” She brushed her fingers against the base of his shaft.
“The thing to know about a cock is that it likes to be touched—in pretty much any way. It likes to be buried inside you best of all, but absent that, your hand can mimic a fair imitation. So can your mouth, but we’ll leave that for another time.”
Diana was incredibly intrigued. “My mouth?” She looked down at him and ran her fingers along the length. He twitched, the flesh jumping in her hand. He was so warm and soft there, but hard too of course, beneath the velvet of his skin. She licked her upper lip.
“Diana. Not tonight,” he rasped.
She looked up at him, intending to argue, but didn’t. She’d do whatever she damn well pleased. She closed her hand around his shaft. “Is this right?”
“Yes. Now move it up and down. Remember when I showed you how to pleasure yourself, how important it was to keep up the pressure and move quickly, especially as your orgasm builds?”
She thought she understood where he was going. “I should move my hand rapidly up and down, from base to tip?” She did what she asked, enclosing her hand around him as tightly as she dared.
He groaned, and she glanced up to see his lashes flutter down over his eyes and his head tip back. Was he enjoying this? She loosened her grip slightly. “Too tight?”
“No, don’t stop.”
She leaned down and touched her lips to the end of his shaft where a tiny bead of moisture had pooled. She licked at it with her tongue and was surprised by the thick, salty flavor.
“Diana.”
She looked up once more and narrowed her eyes at him. “My entire life people have told me what to do and when to do it. I want to put you in my mouth. You can tell me how or suffer whatever I manage to come up with.”
A dark, warm laugh escaped his mouth. “God, you’re amazing. It will be easier if you kneel in front of me. Take me as deep as you like. Or not, it’s up to you. There’s no right or wrong. Use your tongue. Hell, you can even use your teeth—gently, of course.”
Her teeth? That never would have occurred to her, and she still wasn’t sure how she would do that without causing injury. But the rest she could do. Her breasts tingled and her core throbbed again with need, as if she hadn’t already had an orgasm. She slipped from the bed, and he pivoted so she could kneel before him.
“Simon, is it possible to have more than one orgasm?”
“Uh, yes, particularly for women. It’s less common for a man—we take a bit of time to recuperate. Any man worth his salt takes great pride in making a woman come multiple times, and after we’re wed, I’ll show you precisely what I mean.”
The desire pulsing through her rose to a crescendo, but she pushed it aside to focus on him. She wanted to bring him pleasure—to do for him what he’d done for her. What he promised to do for her over and over. Anticipation curled through her veins as she touched her lips to the end of his cock.
She gripped the base and opened her mouth, drawing his flesh slowly inside. He glided over her tongue, and she relished the silky softness of his flesh.
“God, Diana. Yes. That’s”—he grunted—“perfect.”
She thought of what he’d said—take him as deep as she wanted. Opening wider, she sucked him farther inside until he neared the back of her mouth. He pulled back, then pushed forward slowly. She recalled the movements of his fingers inside her. His cock would move the same way. Which was why she was supposed to move her hand up and down the shaft. She did that now, pulling back with her mouth and bringing her hand up, then plunging forward again with her hand and mouth.
His moan filled the room and his hand wrapped in her braid, holding her head while she moved her mouth and hand over him. She felt him tense, then he withdrew from her completely. When she tried to draw him back, he caressed her cheek. “Diana, my orgasm includes spilling my seed.”
She looked up at him. His eyes were opened to bare slits. “I know,” she said.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to spill it down your throat.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Some women don’t like it.”
She didn’t like thinking of him with “some women.” Or with any women. And yet he’d been married. Had his wife done this for him? Had she let him come in her mouth? She would never ask, and decided it didn’t matter. There could be no place in their marriage for her jealousy, not of the woman he’d loved.
