The Black Diamond (Black Diamond 2)

"Julian…" Aurora whimpered his name, cl

utched his elbows for support. It felt like a year, rather than a day, since they'd been together like this.

Julian swept her into his arms. "The rug or the settee?" he demanded hoarsely. "Both," he answered himself. He lowered her onto the settee, dragging off her clothes and leaving her utterly, gloriously naked. "You're breathtaking." He kneeled on the carpet, urging her to the edge of the sofa, wedging his shoulders between her thighs. "Remember—don't scream," he warned again.

Then, he lowered his head and buried his mouth in her sweetness.

Aurora grabbed a cushion, pressing it to her mouth to stifle her cries. Julian's fingers gripped her thighs, opened her more fully, his tongue lashing on her, in her, with thorough intensity, carrying her to instant unbearable heights. Her hips jutted forward, pressing her closer to the exquisite sensations and the man who was causing them.

Julian slid his hands beneath her, lifted her up and into him, his caresses abruptly intensifying, igniting her nerve endings until they frayed and snapped.

Without warning her climax slammed through her, shattering her into hundreds of pieces, making her arch and twist and hug the cushion she held with all her might.

Julian left her, and she floated, vaguely aware of him tearing at his clothes, flinging them randomly about. "Come here," he muttered thickly, gathering her into his arms, tossing the settee cushion aside. "Hold on to me instead."

He lowered her to the carpet, coming down over her and entering her in one ravenous thrust.

"Julian!" She couldn't remain silent, her own contractions beginning anew as her still-sensitized flesh reacted to the force of his entry.

"God." He ground out the word, his powerful hands anchoring her hips, dragging them up to meet the frenzied motion of his.

Aurora raised her legs, wrapped them around him, twining her arms about his neck. "Julian," she whispered, staring into the burning topaz flames in his eyes. Ardently she drew his mouth down to hers.

They kissed—deep, hungry kisses—again and again, Julian's powerful body moving in fast, urgent thrusts. He tangled his hands in her hair, devoured her mouth, taking her tongue, her breath, making them his.

"Come for me again," he commanded on a rasp. "Let me feel you—with me, all around me. Now, Aurora."

"Yes." Her nails dug into his back, the clawing tightness preceding her release already too excruciating to withstand. "Now…"

"Look at me." He waited only until she complied. Then, their gazes locked, he drove into her deeply, holding himself there, impaling her until she dissolved into wrenching spasms around him.

"Julian!" Aurora threw back her head, cried out his name as everything inside her converged and exploded.

"Yes … yes … yes." He erupted, pouring into her like a man possessed, shouting her name again and again as he sought her womb, spilled his seed at its mouth.

They collapsed, drenched in sweat, gasping in air as if they'd been drowning. Neither moved nor spoke. They just sank into each other's arms, their minds utterly dazed, their hearts thundering like cannon fire.

"Your Grace?" Thayer's crisp tone accompanied his knock and permeated their passion-drugged haze. "I heard a commotion. Is there something amiss?"

Julian's moan was a wisp of sound in Aurora's hair.

"Your Grace?" Thayer rattled the unyielding door handle. "Sir, I asked if something was amiss."

This time Julian gathered enough strength to reply. "No, Thayer," he called, propping himself—with enormous effort—on his elbows. "Everything is fine. The duchess and I were just…" He kissed the hollow at Aurora's throat. "…exploring the library."

Aurora bit her lip to control her mirth.

"Very good, sir." Sounding unconvinced and decidedly curious, Thayer retraced his steps.

Aurora's gaze met Julian's and she dissolved into laughter. "Thank goodness the door held. Thayer would have swooned. Maybe worse."

"Definitely worse," Julian concurred, lazily stroking strands of hair off his wife's face. "As it is, the man already thinks I'm a heathen."

"That's only because Lawrence let him believe that," Aurora demurred softly.

"Perhaps." Julian shrugged, flashing his heart-stopping smile. "On the other hand, my actions just now would support his claim. I did behave like a savage."

"Not a savage. More like a pagan god," Aurora amended, her fingers sifting through the longer hair at her husband's nape.