Page 45 of Taken By the Dangerous Duke

She reached out to touch the duke. She did not need to touch his skin, only place her hand on him to remind herself that he was there in front of her, to remind herself that he was real.

Margaret touched his shoulder, squeezing it gently. Then, she removed the chemise from her body, leaving herself unclothed. A few months ago, even a few weeks ago, she would not have been able to think about doing that. The thought of being undressed in front of a man was terrifying, and the first time undressing in front of the duke had been terrifying too, but it felt right now, and that was because of how he made her feel.

Arthur plunged his hand between her legs, sliding his fingers across her tuft of jet-black hair before moving onto the wetness at her core. He moved his hand back and forth a couple of times and leaned in to kiss her again. His tongue and his fingers slipped inside her at the same time, both finding a moist cave to explore.

Margaret pushed her hand up the duke’s shirt and quickly undid the middle button of the shirt, probing her hand inside. She ran her fingers over his silky chest, her fingertips taking their time to investigate the smoothness she was met with. There was a small amount of chest hair there, but not too much, and Margaret had come to enjoy that—she could see his muscular physique better.

The duke continued to play with her, both with his fingers moving in and out, and his tongue exploring and probing. He removed his fingers from inside her and ran them over her nub; they were so wet that they slid over fluidly and the pleasure that ran through Margaret was a small wave that moved the length of her body.

She responded by pulling his shirt apart. The buttons came undone and none of them popped off, and the duke seemed unconcerned that they would pop off. He helped to remove his jacket and shirt quickly before he got back to kissing and rubbing her. While he rubbed at her center with one hand, the other roved over her body, moving up her thigh and her stomach, taking a breast for a second before caressing her neck.

The smells were different here too. Her sheets and the duke’s sheets were laundered in the same way, but hers still seemed to have a more floral aroma. Perhaps it was her presence in the room. And, she had decorated the room with brighter colors—pale pink curtains, a large white doily on the chest of drawers, and paintings of floral landscapes. The mind could sometimes trick you, and the sight of more flowers could have been providing a false smell.

None of that mattered to Margaret—not at that moment. All that mattered was the touch of the duke as both of his hands moved over her body. It was exciting and caring at the same time—his touch made her body want to arch and pulse, but it helped her to sink back into the bed too; relaxing her.

And that is what she did. Margaret submitted herself and lay back on the bed in front of Arthur, her breasts like two small hillocks on a field of creamy snow. Arthur smiled, looking down across his land, the land that he would plow and plant his seed.

Margaret only hoped that he was not only doing it because of what she had said. She had complained about being possibly infertile and so much more. Was he doing this to prove a point?

When the duke’s soldier snapped to attention at the top of his thighs as his trousers were dropped to the floor, she forgot that thought. He kicked off the last of his clothes and stood before her. Margaret could not take her eyes from his throbbing member and the thick thighs around it. She wanted to bite into them, but she held herself back. She resisted; for as long as she could.

The duke knelt on the bed, lowering the end slightly. He slid up Margaret, rubbing his body against hers, and she reached out her hands to grip onto his tight shoulders. His hand lingered in her garden once more, wetter than it had ever been. He did not slip his fingers inside her this time, but he did play with her pleasure point as his lips licked at her nipples.

Margaret gripped onto his shoulders tighter, her fingers running over every ridge and peak. There was a smoothness to his skin and the frame beneath, and a pliable tautness to the muscles that covered his body. she ran her fingers in sweeping lines, probing more at his flesh as he teased at her breasts, taking one of her nipples in his mouth as he flicked at her down below.

The juices were flowing, and Margaret wanted the duke inside of her once more, but she was prepared to wait. The pleasure that was to come would be overwhelming, but the pleasure that was here was also pretty darn good. She rubbed at his back as his tongue, lips, and fingers worked wonders on her body. When Arthur moved his mouth to her other nipple, she could take it no more. Margaret took a hold of Arthur’s shoulders and guided him over onto his back. She was almost as surprised as he was.

There was no holding it in anymore. She leaped on top of the duke and straddled him. As soon as she was atop him, she slid herself down onto his manhood, taking the entirety of his shaft inside of her. The duke did not protest, and the look on his face changed as she slid down onto him.

Margaret looked the duke in the eye as she lowered her entire body on top of him. She pressed her fleshy breasts to his firm chest, and she let her weight be taken up by him, relishing the feeling of being on top of the duke instead of below.

They breathed in time with each other, chests pressing against each other before receding a little. No words passed their lips. They were silent, and so was the room. Slowly, with barely any perceptible movement at first, Margaret started to rock her hips back and forth.

Their lips did not meet as they made love to each other. But their eyes did remain locked.

Margaret moved forward a little more each time, and then back a little more, her stomach gliding over the duke’s. Her breasts were still pressed to him as she tilted back and forth, but her eyes did not move from his. She needed to concentrate on one thing to stop herself from exploding too soon. She held onto the emerald eyes, two small pools in a desert of pleasure. The duke was holding on too. He had his hands gripped onto her sides, and Margaret could feel the grip tightening as he guided her back and forth in a rocking motion.

But she would not be able to hold on for much longer, and from the way the duke was looking at her, neither would he. He moved her hips faster and faster, the duke writhing beneath her, and she could feel it coming on, but the duke interrupted.

He flipped the two of them, keeping himself inside of Margaret so that she was on her back and he was on top. And the stride was not broken. Margaret had been writhing, and now the duke moved his hips at the same rhythm, rooting deep into her. He held her gaze now, looking down into her eyes—not close enough for their lips to meet, but close enough for Margaret to feel the warm breath of the duke on her cheek.

And then his eyes were gone. Everything was gone. She could not keep her eyes open or stop her back from arching. And, as soon as her back arched, it pushed the duke deeper into her, and that only caused her to climax quicker.

She shuddered first. It echoed through her body, all control lost. The duke buried his face in her neck, the same happening to him. She could feel the vibrations in her and the duke’s bodies, the vibrations in harmony. It was a wash of warm water that engulfed from outside and in. But it was more than that. It was more like honey—sweet and smooth, covering her entirely.

And then it was a burst of ecstasy, like a waterfall, but much more ferocious—emanating from her core and spilling out into the world. Margaret still had her eyes closed tight, but it felt like a bright light coming from her core, bursting out in all directions, and that kept her eyes closed. She could not open them or she would be blinded by her own pleasure.

She could not stop herself from flailing. Her arms moved too much for her to be able to grab onto the sheets. Her toes curled as the ripples of pleasure ripped through her. She pushed her head to the side but still kept her eyes closed. And, her back continued to arch, pushing the duke upward with almost superhuman strength. All until the last wave of pleasure coursed through her and she flopped back onto the bed.

“If that does not get you pregnant, I don’t know what will,” whispered the duke.

CHAPTER22

Play The Hand You Are Dealt

“Ithought she would be pregnant by now,” said Arthur. “We have been… well, you know. And, for quite a while now. Is it really this hard to get a woman pregnant?”

“Perhaps for you,” said Parker with a sly smile. “I am sure I could have a woman pregnant in no time, but not everyone is as masculine as I am.”

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