“Ride me,” he growled, shocking himself with the harsh command. Damn. He struggled to remember her innocence, but before he could take back the order, Constance’s hips rolled, slow, sinuous, stroking him with her tight clasp, sending a cascading wave of shiver down his spine. The latent sensuality in the movement surprised and enthralled him. Her hips arched as she slid up so the tip of his cock was at her entrance, then lowered onto him with exquisite slowness. She sank down on his thick length, biting her lip, her face a study of deep determination and lust. She whimpered and curled her hands behind his neck, the move thrusting her breast further out in a perfect arch, and tilted her face to his. “Like this?” she asked with a soft moan as she glided up his length and down again.
“Yes,” the words hissed from his teeth as she tightened and rippled over his cock, shooting hot prickling sensation to his balls.
The amusement in her green eyes, along with the hunger beguiled him. “I do like to ride,” she drawled her voice husky with laughter and desire. Then she proceeded to take him with a ride that was pure torture. His stomach walls tightened as he fought the need to take control. She was moving so damn slow, so beautifully slow, taking him to the edge of pleasure and keeping him there. What he loved the most about her movements was how natural, sweet and powerful they were. Nothing practiced, only the innate sensuality she had always shimmered with.
He snaked his hand from her hip and delved between her curls finding her clitoris and caressing her with a slow flick. She jerked and shivered in his embrace, and he placed a wet kiss on her neck. She tightened on his cock further and the guttural groan that she pulled from his throat rumbled in the room. Fisting her mane of hair in his hand, he tilted her head more and took her lips in a wet kiss. Hunger burned away the doubts and the fear, and he sank with her until he lowered her to her elbows, her hips nestled into his. He released her lips and met her aroused gaze. The emotions that glittered in her emerald eyes humbled him.
“Lucan, I love you so much it hurts,” she declared with raw sincerity.
It was as if her words shattered the tenuous control he had, and he withdrew and slammed into her tight core with bruising force. But she took him, rolled her hips back on him, taking his passion, meeting him thrust for thrust. A needy moan hissed from her lips and traveled straight to his balls tightening them, making him more insatiable in his rough demands. Her hips jerked in time to his hard, deep thrust as he sank into her over and over, and her cries of love wrapped around his soul. “I love you, Constance,” he breathed fiercely as pleasure overwhelmed him. His fingers dug into the lush curve of her hips as he plunged and retreated into her convulsing body, riding them both into one orgasm after the other.
…
Constance lay in Lucan’s arms with the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through her. Never could she have imagined this delight in being intimate. She liked it. A soft laugh puffed from her. She more than liked it. She laced her fingers through Lucan’s own and shifted so that she lay more comfortably in the crook of his arms.
“We could marry here in the village or in London if you wish. Lady Calydon would host our engagement announcement at Sherring Cross, and then we could marry a few weeks later. The Archbishop of Canterbury would conduct our wedding. I have instructed a nursery to have two thousand white roses for any day you so desire. The orchestra from the royal academy of music will play for you as you walk down the aisle,” Lucan said.
She tilted her chin to stare at him. Joy bubbled inside of her. “My dream wedding,” she mused softly. “Only Sebastian and Anthony knew exactly what I wanted.”
“Calydon told me,” he admitted gruffly.
“That’s interesting,” she murmured, gliding her fingertips over their laced knuckles. “But I do not want all that.”
“Constance, I—”
She rolled onto him, drawing her knees up to bracket his hips as she sat on him fully. An arrested expression crossed his face. “I do not care for the dreams I had before. I do not wish for a grand ceremony, or even a dress by Worth in Paris anymore. I yearn to be your wife, your duchess, your light, the joy and solace in your life, Lucan. That is what I want.”
A slow breath exhaled from him and a smile of tenderness creased his lips. “I do have a special license in my desk.”
She blinked down at him and then a light laugh pulsed from her, joy suffusing her heart. “Hopeful weren’t you?”
“More than you can ever know,” he said pulling her head down to claim her lips tenderly.
Hours passed in the conservatory as Lucan introduced her to blissful pleasure. They laughed, they talked and they made love some more. Nothing mattered to Constance other than knowing she was in the arms of the man who cherished her more than anything in his world.