Page 85 of The Duelist for the Ton
“That’s it,” he breathed. “Now, let me look at you.”
He took her hand and pressed his lips against the center of her palm. His tongue flicked out against her skin, and she drew in a sharp breath.
“Hush,” he whispered again. “Not a sound, remember?”
He peppered her hand with featherlight kisses, pressing his lips against each fingertip. Then he took her forefinger into his mouth, caressing its length with his tongue. He curled his tongue around her fingertip, and she suppressed a groan at the little pulse of desire in her center.
“That’s it…”
He climbed onto the bed, which shifted under his weight, then placed a hand on her belly, his fingers warm as he caressed her skin, almost with reverence. He traced a path toward her breasts. She held her breath in anticipation of his touch, and her nipples tightened with a delicious ache. The urge to cry out—to beg him to ease the ache—was almost too much to bear, and she arched her back, her breath catching as he lowered his head and she felt his warm breath on her skin.
Then he lowered his head and took her breast in his mouth.
“Mmm!”
Her body jerked upward, and she clamped her lips together to stem her cry at the burst of pleasure that tore through her.
He lifted his head and smiled, his eyes wide and dark with desire. “Good girl.”
Sweet heaven!Her body pulsed again at his gentle praise, and she shifted her thighs to ease the growing ache between her legs.
“H-how did you know that—” She broke off, her cheeks warming with shame.
He had done this before—with other women.
“Hush, my love,” he said, kissing her breast, his warm breath caressing her skin. “You are the only woman I want—and tonight I give myself to you, wholly and utterly.”
He kissed her other breast, drawing it into his mouth, then he flicked out his tongue and traced a path along her body, toward the juncture of her thighs. When he reached the nest of curls at her center, he drew in a long, slow breath.
“Ahh—have you any idea how I’ve longed to breathe in your scent?” he whispered. “The most delectable scent in the world, and it’s for me.” He pressed his lips against her curls. “All for me…”
A surge of moisture swelled in her center, but she conquered her shame as his nostrils flared.
“Onlyfor me.”
The fierceness in his voice held a note of possession, and though her mind warred against it, her body pulsed with longing, aching to be claimed.
Then he parted her thighs, his fingers gentle but insistent, and a rush of shame engulfed her.
Surely he didn’t want to look at her…there?
She looked up to see him staring at her, his eyes the color of midnight with silver stars pulsing in their depths, as if he were revealing his soul, while she bared her…
“Shh,” he whispered. “Do you trust me?”
For a heartbeat she hesitated. Then she nodded, fisting her hands in the bedsheets while he nudged her thighs apart. Then he grew still and lowered his gaze to her thighs. His eyes flared and a slow smile curled on his lips, as if he could devour her with a single look.
“May I?” he breathed.
She nodded, and he flicked his tongue out, running the tip along his lips until they glistened with moisture. Then he parted her thighs further and dipped his head.
She let out a whimper at the tickling sensation as he placed kisses on her skin, his hair brushing against the inside of her thighs. Then he dipped his tongue into her curls. A low groan escaped her, and he stopped, looking up.
“Does it pain you?”
“N-no,” she whispered. “I feel only pleasure.”
“Ahh—pleasure…” His whispered word brushed over her skin again. Then he dipped his tongue in and caressed her flesh. She bit her lip to stem a cry as pleasure swelled deep inside her, and the wicked moisture between her thighs surged once more.
