Dark Duke(9)

When he found her curls, they were wet.

A great shudder passed through him at the discovery. He stroked them once, then twice, then slipped deeper. She wailed when he touched her pearl, that hard, slick button.

God, she was responsive. He’d known. Somehow, he’d known she would be. He rubbed harder, alternating between hard strokes and tantalizing circles until she panted and wriggled on his lap. The pressure of her hip against his cock was excruciating, but he loved it. Because he knew soon, oh so soon, that cock would be sinking deep and receiving the benefit of all those delicious wriggles.

But first, he had to make her come.

And she was close. So close.

As a man of experience, Edward could tell.

He knew instinctively when she was ready to be broached. Her legs spread, only infinitesimally but enough for him to notice. Her muscles quivered, her grip on his scalp tightened. Her breath became short and shallow, her wails wild.

He brushed his lips over hers, teasing, back and forth, until she grasped his ears and held him still and consumed him. Consumed him.

He thrust two fingers inside.

And froze.

Two things caused his brain to seize. First was the incredible heat and tautness of her cunt. Hellish shivers took him at the thought of plunging his cock into that tight sheath. The second realization was the fact that there was no barrier. No hymen.

She was not a virgin.

He hadn’t even realized the possibility had been holding him back—he couldn’t recall having such a chivalrous instinct before—until all doubt was removed. He was not sure why, but didn’t bother to ponder on it.

That she was a woman of the world changed everything.

She was fair game.

Ruthlessly, he went to work on her, exploring her silken walls, hunting for the bundle of nerves deep within. He found it—he knew when she lurched and flailed and cried out, when she affixed her mouth to his neck and feasted. He found that bundle and grazed it, scraped it, rubbed it.

She came around him. Tightened until he couldn’t even move inside her.

Good God.

Her body contracted then loosened as the swell of her orgasm rose and fell. He paced her, easing in and out, increasing her torment, ratcheting up the tension again and again.

And holy hell. She came. Again and again.

He pulled back and stared down at her face. She was exquisite in her bliss. Her eyes glowed, tiny tears glazed her lashes. Her face was soft, her muscles slack. Her lips were pursed, but not in a disapproving manner. Yes. She looked decidedly dewy.

Decidedly delicious.

He eased his fingers from her still quivering sheath and wiped them on her petticoats. His body thrummed. His cock ached. His balls were tight little nuts burning for release. He needed to be in her. He needed to be in her now. He fumbled with the buttons on the placket of his trousers.

“Kaitlin! Kaitlin!”

He winced as a young, high-pitched voice wafted toward them on the breeze. It came from not far away.

Just in time, Edward yanked down her skirts and covered her bare legs.

A small dark-headed boy with rampant curls and a raft of freckles burst around the side of the folly and flew up the steps. “Kait— Oh, there you are.” He stopped and stared. “What are you doing to Kaitlin?”

Kaitlin. Her name was Kaitlin.

It was good to know the name of the woman one had just brought to ecstasy.

It was better to not be interrupted.

She wrenched from his lap—damn, he hated the cold plaguing him in her absence—and brushed down her skirts. “Hamish. There you are. We were looking for you.”

Hamish was not one to be cozened. Or deterred. He propped his fists on his hips and put out a lip. “No you weren’t. I was at the tree waiting for you.” He glared at Edward. “What were you doing to Kaitlin?”

Edward stood and straightened his waistcoat, though it hardly needed straightening. He propped his fists on his hips and put out a lip and fixed the urchin with a very ducal perusal. And said the only thing that came to mind. “Tickling her.”

Kaitlin gave a delicate snort. He didn’t glance at her because he was busy being ducal. He needed to get rid of this little scamp, and now, so he could continue what nature so adamantly insisted he finish. He glared at the boy, willing him to vacate the folly.

A dark brow wrinkled. As did a ridiculous button nose. “Tickling her? That’s stupid.”

“Quite so.” He tugged on his waistcoat again. Glared some more. “Isn’t there somewhere you should be, boy?” His ardor was diminishing by the second.

Hamish glared right back. “No.” He turned to Kaitlin. “You’re not ticklish.” An accusation.

Her mouth opened. And closed. And opened again. Nothing came out but a tiny “eep”. She met Edward’s gaze, a help me look on her face.