The Duke’s Shotgun Wedding(27)

Her jaw dropped in outrage. “You arrogant, egotistical, unfeeling beast!”

She launched herself at him.

Her actions so surprised him, he did not brace to check her momentum.

“Oomph.”

Her muffled scream as she slammed into him had him letting out a laugh in amazed disbelief. But it was quickly wiped away as her palm swung and caught him solidly on the cheek.

Good God. He had truly enraged his duchess. Was she really not aware that he would never beat her? He doubted he had the heart to banish her from his sight, either.

“You do not display much prudence, do you, wife?”

Her breaths heaved, making the swell of her breasts rise precariously above the gown. Her eyes darkened to almost black as they glared a furious dare at him.

Just that quickly, he wanted her. A fierce need to possess her surged through him. And not in the slow and languid way of their nights of loving before their falling out.

He needed her. And he wanted her to burn.

…

Sebastian’s mouth crashed down on Jocelyn’s, stunning her at the abrupt turn of his mood.

The intensity of his mouth as it captured hers sent shocks of desire through her whole body. She responded with complete hunger, gripping his dark head tightly to her.

“Oh, yes!” she gasped as he roughly yanked down the bodice of her gown, as though its low cut had been fashioned exactly for his ravishment. His lips covered her pebbled nipple.

“Sebastian,” she cried out.

He stalked backward with her, whipping up the hem of her dress and petticoats, pushing the layers of fabric upward as he trailed his hands up her legs. She gasped into the mouth that kissed her as the back of her knees hit his oak desk. Papers and objects flew, and he lifted her bottom onto the desk. His breath was ragged as he withdrew his mouth from hers and stepped between her thighs, wedging them apart and hoisting her legs to his waist. Then his fingers deftly parted her bloomers, exposing her to the chilly air.

That, and the scalding look of passion on his face sent erotic shivers dancing up her spine.

“You infuriate me,” he growled. “I do not know if I should beat you, strangle you, or kiss you.”

“Do I have a say?” she managed breathily.

His jaw worked as he pulled his member from his trousers. “No.”

Then he angled her hips up and slammed into her in one powerful movement.

The desk jerked. Her scream of pleasure-pain rang in the library. He kissed her brutally before withdrawing and forging home again, slower, but just as powerfully.

“You also drive me mad,” he all but snarled as he gripped her hair, then feasted on her lips again.

Jocelyn reeled with pleasure at the intensity of his lovemaking. It had never been like this before, his control shattered. Weakness infused her limbs, and dark, wanton need seared through her. She tried to rise to meet his thrusts, but with the powerful grip he had on her hips she couldn’t move. She could only submit to his powerful strokes and the merciless pleasure that he rained upon her. He buried his face in the curve of her neck as his hips plunged faster, driving into her over and over, hard and relentless, sending deep shards of pleasure to her very core. She felt his teeth at her shoulder, scraping against her skin, nipping her with erotic bites. Burning ecstasy speared her body, and she came apart in a thousand pieces.

He plunged once more into her convulsing body, and with a harsh roar he tumbled with her, emptying his essence into her.

“My God, Sebastian,” she gasped long moments later, still trembling from the aftershocks of such violent pleasure.

He groaned against her lips before capturing them in a kiss that only served to make her mindless. “I cannot believe I have been absent from your bed for ten days.”

Hope surged through Jocelyn.

“Does that mean I will not be beaten or banished?” she asked breathlessly as he lifted and carried her, still impaled, over to the sofa. She moaned at the sensations that traveled through her at the feel of him hardening inside her again. He sat on the sofa with her straddling him, the skirt of her gown spilling backward over his knees, his morning coat crushed beneath her folded legs and bunched-up petticoats.

“You infuriate me, Jocelyn, but know that I would never lift a hand to hurt you in any way.”

“Banishment, then?”

He grunted and her heart raced at his intent regard.

“I do not have a pleasant relationship with my mother,” he said without preamble. “It has been so since I found her with her lover in the gardens when I was six.”

Jocelyn stiffened in shock. “Oh, Sebastian, I’m—”

He shook his head to cut her off. “The rift only got worse after she married her lover, Lord Radcliffe, only three months after my father’s passing.”