Once a Duchess(50)

 

His fingers drove inside again, while he flicked her nub with his tongue. Her hands scrabbled at her sides, clawed at his hair. Her thighs clamped tight. The sweet torture was too much. She came apart in his hands and mouth, crying out as her climax tore through her.

 

Suddenly, his mouth covered hers, and he swallowed the last of her cries.

 

Marshall positioned himself between her legs and paused with the blunt tip of his staff pressing heavily against her. “I want you so much,” he rasped.

 

She wrapped her legs around his thighs, grasped his hard buttocks, and pulled him forward. He entered her slowly, easing in and out until he was buried completely. His eyes went hazy and he groaned.

 

The sensation of being filled by him was just so delicious. His presence surrounded and permeated her. God, had anything ever felt so right? Her arms reached over her head along the cool tarp. Marshall caught her hands; their fingers twined together.

 

And then he started to move inside her, slowly at first, a gentle rocking back and forth. Isabelle reveled in the weight of his large body pressed against hers.

 

Marshall propped up on his elbows — caging her in — and devoured her mouth with a ravenous kiss. “You’re perfection,” he breathed against her ear. “So damn good, Isabelle. I knew it would be. You’ve always made me feel. So. Good.”

 

Isabelle thought her heart would burst. She took his face in her hands. “Just like I remember … oh!” The pace of his thrusting increased. There were no more words for Isabelle, just the heat mounting again between her thighs.

 

She tightened the grip of her legs and arms around him, barely noticing the whimpers and soft cries she made. She met his demanding pace, lifting to meet every thrust. He was driving them both to the brink. And then she was over the edge and beyond, as a jolt of pure, brilliant sensation erupted inside her and shattered into a thousand shards of sunlight.

 

An instant later, a roar tore from Marshall’s throat. She was flooded with his warmth, and in that instant, the love she’d felt for him as a young bride roared back to full life. With a final thrust, he shuddered and collapsed atop her, sated and panting.

 

Isabelle languidly stroked his damp back. He kissed her temple and rolled off, breaking their intimate joining. She protested with a whimper.

 

“Ah, sweet girl.” Wrapping his arms around her, her drew her against his damp chest. “Let a man recover, won’t you?”

 

She snuggled against him and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. His skin smelled musky. Her tongue darted out and tasted the slight tang of salt. Isabelle noticed every sensation, jealously hoarding them away in her memory. In the years that had passed since the last time they’d been together, she’d forgotten how amazing it was between them; she vowed not to forget again.

 

She wished she could cocoon herself in this moment forever. The warm sun washed over her and the comfortable weight of Marshall’s arms kept her snug against him. Though a niggling voice in the back of her mind warned her to get up and be done with him, she burrowed deeper into his embrace and sighed contentedly, instead.

 

She must have dozed off then, for she returned to awareness with a soft tickle at her side.

 

“Sweetheart?” Marshall murmured. “Are you awake?”

 

Her eyelids fluttered. “I am now. Sorry.”

 

He chuckled. “I didn’t realize I’m so deadly dull as to bore you into insensibility.”

 

At the warmth in his expression, Isabelle’s heart kicked. “You did not bore me to sleep, Marshall.”

 

“Darling, you’re blushing. Don’t tell me you’ve turned maidenly now, not after the luscious vixen I so recently encountered.” He playfully pinched her bottom. She giggled, enjoying their banter. Maybe things would be different now, after all. Maybe their coupling had meant as much to Marshall as it had to her.

 

She turned onto her left side again and let her eyelids drift closed. Marshall idly ran a hand up her flank and chest. Isabelle relished the simple delight of his touch. Each pass of his fingers left a mark that scorched its way to her soul, more memories to cling to and examine later.

 

His hand paused below her right breast, his fingers pressed into the skin. She felt his whole body stiffen.

 

“What is this?”

 

“Hmm?” She opened her eyes again and rolled onto her back. Marshall’s hand followed, probing harder against her side. His brows knit together, as though he was thinking very hard about what his fingers had discovered.

 

“Isabelle, what is this place on your side?” The gentle banter had vanished from his tone.