If I Only Had a Duke(29)

She made a startled sound as his fingers slipped inside her drawers. Wet for him, slippery with wanting.

He gently spread that honeyed wetness over the outer lips of her sex, parting her, preparing her.

"Dalton, what are you . . . oh . . . my." She squirmed but he stilled her with an arm around her waist. Her body quivered when he touched the tip of his tongue to her, running it softly around the hood of her sex.

Only a hint. A promise.

She stilled. Waiting. She wanted more. He licked her again, sliding the hood up and down, not touching the heart of her directly yet.

He savored the smoky, sweet flavor, dipping his tongue inside to taste more, and then dragging his tongue back and forth over her core.

Her hips moved now in small, undulating circles, unconsciously disclosing the rhythm she preferred.

Letting go of her hips, he balled her shift up in one fist so he could see her moving above him. She was so perfect and beautiful.

He was fully hard now, as rigid as he'd ever been. He couldn't help thinking about lifting her off that chair in one swift movement and sliding her down onto his shaft. She was so wet and slippery it would go easily, even though she was an innocent.

She tasted so good.

His cock twitched and begged for release while he pleasured her.

Pushing his fingers inside her, where his cock wanted to go, he worshipped her with his fingers and his tongue at the same time.

"Dalton?" There was a question, a quivering need. Inner muscles tensed around his fingers. She was very near now.

He couldn't answer, because his mouth was full of sweet, satisfying woman.

He thrust his fingers deeper and sucked gently, flicking her sex with his tongue at the same time.

She moaned, pressing against his lips, her entire body tensing and shaking.

"I . . . oh . . ."

Nearly there, Thea.

He sucked and flicked harder now, quickening the pace.

Her body tensed and jerked beneath his lips and then her head fell backward. She slumped back in the chair and he rode the lingering tremors of her orgasm with his tongue and lips, prolonging her pleasure.

His Thea, his sensual goddess. Moaning with abandon, thighs spread.

He untied her wrists and flipped her gown back over her legs.

"Let that be a warning to you," he growled. "About why it's not wise to wager with a rake. You'll always lose."

"I'm woman enough to admit when I'm wrong," she said shakily, rubbing her fingers across her wrists.

"What was that?" Dalton sat in the chair opposite her and crossed his arms over his chest, striving to quiet his breathing. "I didn't quite hear you . . ."

He loved the pink tinge he'd brought to her cheeks and the way her lower lip was plump and swollen from his kisses.

That one small taste hadn't been nearly enough. He wanted more.

He sipped more whiskey, the earthy flavor flooding his mouth and mingling with the lingering sweet taste of Thea.

"You're definitely a rake worth your salt," she replied.

"And?"

"The condition of your boots doesn't signify."   





 

"Then my job here is finished." That was his cue to leave. So why didn't his legs lift him out of the damn chair?

"Truly?" Smoky blue eyes gazed at him. "Did you . . . finish?"

Whiskey burned the wrong way down his throat and he coughed helplessly.

"Anything the matter?" she inquired innocently.

"That's not a conversation we'll have on this journey," he choked out.

She tilted forward and satin flesh mounded over the patterned silk of her gown. "But what happens next?"





Chapter 14





"Nothing happens next." Dalton edged his chair away from her. "I go sleep in the stables."

"In the stables? With cracked ribs?"

"Or I'll sleep on the chair here, by the fire."

Her gaze flicked to the bed next to the window. "Or we could . . . share the bed."

"No more beds." Damn it, why was he always growling when he spoke to her?

As he'd observed earlier, she brought out the beast in him.

"I'm curious." She furrowed her brow. "How long does the . . . rest of it last? From the bits and pieces I've gleaned, it sounds like it would be a quick affair."

"There'd be nothing quick about it, I can assure you."

"Of course, since you've made the pursuit of pleasure your life's sole purpose I'm sure you've developed a certain . . . aptitude. Or perhaps women merely flatter you? Pretend to enjoy themselves?"

"Women never pretend their pleasure in my arms."

"How can you be so sure?" she asked with an arch smile.

Ah, he understood what was happening here. This was Thea constructing a barrier of humor and carelessness, pretending this interlude meant nothing more than physical pleasure to her.

"Believe me, Thea, if we made love, you wouldn't be pretending anything. And it would last all night. But that's completely beside the point because it will never happen. This will never happen again."

"And why not? What if I want it to happen?"

He reached over and cupped her chin in his palm. "Because with men, pleasure blows through us like a squall across an ocean. There one moment and gone the next. But it's different for women."

She moved her chin away from his hand. "Maybe I'm not like other women. Maybe I can take my pleasure and barricade my heart, just as men do."

"Life hasn't taught you yet to divorce this"-he touched her forehead-"from this." He brushed his fingers lightly across her chest, over her heart. "I sincerely hope it never does. And I'm too honorable to be the one to do it."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, you're so very honorable. Flaunting yourself in ballrooms, taunting the proper young ladies with your physical perfection. Behold my impressive musculature," she growled, imitating his deep tones and puffing out her chest, apparently pretending to be him.

She leapt up and thrust out her chin. "How do you like this devastating cleft in my chin?" She squared her shoulders. "Don't my strong, wide shoulders make you tingle?"

He reached for her skirts but she ducked away, a teasing light shining in her eyes. "Oh no, young ladies, you can look, but you can't touch."

He couldn't help chuckling. She disarmed him so completely. "Is that truly what the wallflowers were thinking?"

"Oh yes," she breathed. "And that's not all we thought about."

Sweet Lord. Her gaze dropped and his cock leapt to attention, straining to break free.

Rising from the chair, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed, beyond caring about right and wrong. Only thinking of this . . . the soft curve of her lower lip. The even softer swell of her breasts beneath his chest.

She nestled into his touch with a sigh that he felt as a caress along the entire length of his stiff cock. Then she did something wholly unexpected. She pushed against his chest until he flopped onto his back on the bed.

She reared over him, tracing the hair that trailed down his stomach and disappeared into his breeches with her finger. "Do you want to know what else the wallflowers were thinking?"

Don't answer that. Don't answer that.

An incriminating moan escaped his lips.

She stared at his groin. "We wondered about this." Her fingers drifted to his breeches' flap. "Wondered if you padded your breeches, or if it was all real."

Sweet heaven above, he'd corrupted her mind. Unleashed a wanton. And it was glorious.

"Thea. You're going to kill me."

Her finger traced the line of hair that bisected his abdomen. "I want to know where this path leads."   





 

He should stop her, but it felt so damned good.

And she'd accused him of being a tease. Couldn't have that, now could he?

The tables had been completely and utterly turned. He was at her mercy. A lusting fool praying she might follow words with actions.

"Thea," he groaned feverishly. With a quick flick of his wrist he undid a button and his cock sprang free. He gripped the root, offering himself to her. "Is this what you want to see?"

She nodded, her eyes going wide as she stared at his cock.

"Would you like to see me as well?" she asked, her voice soft and seductive.

He nodded, incapable of coherent speech.

She reached around and undid the buttons of her gown and slipped it over her head, leaving only white cotton stays over a simple white chemise.

Because he was desperate for the sight of her firm, high breasts, he tugged the edge of her chemise down and her breasts spilled over the edge of her stays.

"Jesus, Thea. You're too beautiful."

She glanced down at her own breasts. "You think so?"

He nodded, incoherent with need, tracing a finger along the delicate swell of her breasts over smooth skin and tight, rose-colored nipples.

She rose over him, propping herself on her wrists. Her hair swung in feathery circles over his chest. "I want to give you pleasure as well," she whispered.

Her hand brushed his chest and moved downward, over the tightness of his abdomen. Down . . . tentative, petal-soft brushing of fingers on the rim of his cock.

"Show me . . . show me how to pleasure you." Her fingers sheathed his cock.

He groaned. She gripped him tighter. And the fever took him.

He closed his hand over hers and guided it up and over the head of his cock and then back down the shaft.

Of course she easily learned the way of it. His hand fell away and she continued, sliding up over the crest, lubricated now by his sweat and the drops of his seed that signaled he wouldn't last long.