Denying The Duke (Strong Women Find True Love 3)

She leaned into the touch with a soft gasp. “Robert.” He had not, in his visions, matched the beauty of the tortured, raspy, aroused sound that spilled from his throat. His softly throbbing member drew to its full length desiring, demanding, her. Only her.

Her body first warmed, then a wave of desire so strong flowed through her. She was dizzy, then it left her unbearably heavy. The heavy clothes on her body sailed to the ground as her hands lost control and fell to her sides, leaving her naked.

He tried, but he couldn’t stop his hands from slipping lower. He palmed the curve of her firm derriere. His finger slipped between the two globes. He felt the urge to cup the two semi-circles. His other hand banded across her waist, holding her firm while his curious finger probed her. She was hot, slicked with her desire and aching for him. Her moan filled the room.

The sudden crack of lightening filled the room with a glow that startled them. It returned a bit of control to him. He curled his hands away from her body and moved away one step. Then another step. He shook his head to bring a bit of his senses back. He closed his eyes, and tried to banish the hot visions in his mind. Images that urged him to claim her.

She missed him immediately. His hands stopped tracing her skin. When his hands had moved away from their initial path and brushed lower, she had stilled, afraid he would stop. She was afraid that the spell would be broken if she moved or said a word. Then she would never really know, never understand, that delicious ache that filled her with traitorous heat. He did not stop. One hand had curled along her waist holding her, claiming her. Then the other had slipped between her two legs. Its way was slicked by the liquid seeping from her private place. Then he touched her center. She could not have stopped the moan, her arching into his touch, as if her life depended on it. He satisfied that craving in her.

She turned to look at him and he knew that she was far gone. Her eyes were bigger and the plea in them was impossible for him to ignore. It wouldn’t do, to take her in the haze of desire and have her regret their union. He had to hold on to his restraint even when the peaks of her breast were raised and tight, demanding his touch. Even when her shallow rapid breaths lifted them like a pagan offering to his lips. They were two perfect globes of moon quivering softly. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and retreated, drawing his eyes back to her face before he steeled himself and looked down.

He looked at her like he was a man starved and she was a meal like no other. His eyes were heavy on her skin. She could almost felt the intensity of his gaze. He looked at her again and started to look away. He was not going to touch her, the realization came to her. The ache in her lower belly went rabid. A gasp was driven from her lips and she pressed a hand down there, at the center of her ache, nestled at the apex of her thighs. His eyes stopped and she, with a boldness and wanton seduction she did not ever think she was capable of, cupped her sex, hoping to relieve herself. The blush started from her belly to her breasts before reaching her cheeks but she didn’t look away from the eyes that flicked to her face in shock. Even in her privacy she had never been so bold.

It drove him to his knees with the force of blasting cannons. She stood like Aphrodite in all her glory. Her body was arched with desire, breasts lifted and hand cupping her Venus mons. Her fingers were cupping, covering herself in that place he wanted to touch. He wanted his hands cupping her instead.

“Robert, please. I ache so much. Help me with this pain. Touch me again, please.” What man would not want the sight of her begging lips upturned? Breasts swayed slowly at a mesmerising pace with her fingers buried between pink petals. He knew she was slick with desire. And her pose was too much of a temptation, innocence tempered by an all-consuming desire. Her words ruined every hope he had of restraint.

“You don't know what you are asking of me.” His voice was hoarse and he hated that, despite his protestations, he wanted nothing more than to claim what she was offering so sweetly.

“I do,” she insisted and moved closer.

Discretion was clearly the better part of valor. If she touched him, he knew he would not be able to check his white-hot desires. “Do you?” he challenged.

One more step forward and her hands loped around his neck. “I am no child, no wide-eyed ingénue,” she insisted. “Touch me, Robert.”

“I cannot, in good faith, do that. I will never stop,” he warned. His voice was heavy. Every shallow breath he took rushed into his lungs and mashed her breasts against his chest. The peaks of her breasts poked him through the linen shift now plastered to his skin. He was losing control. He was daring, challenging.

“Don't stop.” The whisper hit his neck, tickling his skin. It was a sinuous whisper that held all the permission he needed. It was a bold demand, a wild challenge, a straight dare. His hunger drove him to pillage her, burn her with the desire she teased mercilessly but the eerie light hovered in the air for moments after the lightning flickered and he knew he could do nothing but worship her.

His hands grazed the tip of her left breast poking his shirt with her every shallow breath. He cupped her under the chin. His eyes fixed on hers as he descended on her lips, his first campaign.

She had steeled herself for the touch. But how could she have prepared herself for something she had never encountered? More demand, more intensity than she could bear. His lips plundered her and made her forget breathing.

He leaned away and looked at her flushed face. She wanted to feel every single emotion, every touch, and every nuance of desire. His hand worried one nipple and his mouth captured the tip of the other breast. He stroked it leisurely with his tongue, worried the hardened peak with tiny bite, then focusing on her face to capture her delight he suckled her. It tugged from the tips of her breast to the depths of her belly. Her muscles tightened in wanton delight and her hands, no longer content to stay by her sides, slipped to his nape to press him into her. His mouth did dangerous things to her. His teeth bit, grazed then tugged at her, working on one then the other with each bereft straining for his touch. Her ache grew worse.

“Robert, please. This ache, it grows.” She was drowning she was sure. She needed him to save her.

Her cry thrilled him darkly. His lover knew nothing of desire. He took great pleasure in watching her eyes glazed and her form molded further into him. She rubbed against him, fierce in her hunger, trying to ease her ache but not yet. Not yet. He leaned away. If she persisted with her ministrations he would lose his seed like a schoolboy at his

first taste of desire. She was too tempting a morsel.

“Robert, please.” She did not know what she begged for, but she couldn’t bear the pain. It was delicious, yet it drove her wild.

“Soon. Not yet but soon,” he promised. He led her to the bed, scooping her up in steady arms. He flung the coat to the foot of the bed and deposited his precious bundle in bed. It was cold and he was sorry, but soon he would be in it with her, warming her.

He moved away, standing by the side of the bed and a wave of shyness engulfed her. At no time had she imagined lying in bed with him. It was somewhat intimate more than him suckling her and she tried to cover herself with her hands. She did not know how she had been so bold earlier. The blush returned with full force.

“Do not be shy with me, Amelia. You and I, we have no secrets,” he begged.

He waited until she nodded then he made short work of his breeches. He perched on the edge of the bed to unroll his stockings. They were completely ruined of course.

“I want to see. I want to see you.” She made the request, wondering if that was proper, asking to look fully at his person. Then she reminded herself nothing of their current predicament was proper.

He smiled indulgently at her. She was not conventional, and she had not disappointed. He stripped off his long shirt and stood up.

The firelight was blazing brighter now, and she looked her fill. He was standing with his back to the flames unconcerned about his nakedness. He was all sinews and muscles that rolled and stretched. His member was another surprise. It continued to twitch as she watched it but she took her time. The mystery was solved, igniting not a little amount of fear. She knew the mechanics of procreation. She had watched her beloved horses, even if the groom had stiffly insisted that it was improper for a miss. She knew his penis was meant to fit into her but not that thing, it was impossible. But she didn’t want to sound naive and foolish, so she just gulped and looked away. If she was drinking this cup she would drain it to the dregs. She could not be dissuaded from knowing.

He caught the misgiving in her eyes, and then the steeling of her resolve. “Trust me Amelia.”