Page 101 of Oddity of the Ton
“Hush,” he whispered. “There’s my brave soul.”
At length, she relaxed, letting her body accommodate him.
“Good girl.”
Pleasure swelled within her at his gentle praise, spoken in a deep growl. Then he began to move, gently at first, shifting in and out, until the pleasure coiled in her insides, thickening and swelling.
“This body was made to be mine,” he said, “made to be pleasured…”
He increased the pace, and she parted her legs further to draw him deeper in.
“Oh, you wondrous creature!” He plunged inside her, and she arched her back, meeting him thrust for thrust. “Oh, that’s it!” he cried, his movements becoming more frenzied. Then he threw his head back, the tendons in his neck protruding with the strain. Mouth open, he continued to thrust, and a primal growl shuddered through his body.
Then his breathing grew more ragged. Eleanor thrust her hips up, and her body disintegrated as pure pleasure burst inside her.
“Montague!”
She threw back her head and screamed as a great wave washed back and forth, pulling her to pieces.
He plunged into her again, roaring out her name as he filled her completely. Then he drew her to him and fell forward, his voice growing hoarse while he continued to thrust, weakly, until his groans of need quietened into the satisfied little grunts of a primal beast who, having claimed his mate, was now replete with pleasure.
Then he sighed, and her heart almost cracked at the expression in his eyes, which glistened with moisture.
“Did I hurt you?” he whispered.
“A little, at first,” she said. “There’s an ache—but it’s a delicious ache.”
He began to withdraw, and she lifted her legs and wrapped them around him.
“Please,” she whispered. “Stay inside me a little longer.”
“I’ll stay all night if you wish it, Eleanor.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled and shifted onto his side, still inside her. Then she nestled against his chest, relishing the warmth of his body, and drifted into a doze.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When Eleanor openedher eyes, a soft orange glow flickered in her chamber. The fire was not yet out—it must still be the middle of the night.
She opened her eyes and let out a cry.
She was lying on the bed, as naked as the day she was born. And standing over her…
Standing over her, equally naked, a hungry expression in his eyes, was Montague FitzRoy, fifth Duke of Whitcombe.
“Oh!” She sat up, her cheeks warming with shame.Heavens!Her thighs were wide apart—and he’d been looking at her—downthere.
His eyes glittered with relish. “You’re beautiful when you sleep, Eleanor.”
She looked away. “I thought you promised never to flatter me.”
He sat beside her, and the bed shifted under his weight.
“It’s not flattery,” he said. “I’ve seen the barrier you erect around yourself—to hide from the rest of the world.” His mouth curled into a smile. “On occasion, you have lowered that barrier and gifted me with a glimpse of the woman inside. But tonight…” He gestured toward her body. “Tonight was the first time you removed the barrier completely. And it remained gone while you slept. Tonight is the first time I reallysawyou.”
“And I you,” she said.
