How to Marry a Duke (A Cinderella Society 2)

“Dougal,” she said. “You don’t have to be afraid to touch me. I thought we made that clear in the hothouse. And in your bed. The carriage.”

“I’m not afraid,” he said, perplexed. There was a fine sheen of sweat over his sculpted shoulders, tension in his jaw. “But you’re a lady. You deserve…” he waved his hand as if he couldn’t find the right words. “You know. Especially from someone like me.”

She stared at him. “Is that what this is about? I thought we’d sorted that out already. You are more than good enough for me, Dougal. And hang anyone who says differently because of where you were born. You outrank most of them anyway.”

“You’re precious, Meg. Special.”

“But I’m not delicate,” she insisted. “And I don’t need a duke or a pedestal. I need you.”

She held her breath as she seemed to struggle with some internal battle.

And then he was Dougal Black. Her Dougal. Not a duke.

A husband.

A man finally shrugging off constraints he’d never agreed to.

And it was delicious.

He stalked towards her with single minded purpose, desire etched into every line of his face, every muscle of his chest and his thighs, until her breath hitched. And then his hands were on her and they weren’t decorous or polite. They were warm and big and scarred, and he knew exactly what to do with them. He yanked her against his body, his erection pressing just above her sex, teasing, promising.

“Is this what you want, Meg?” he asked, lips tickling her ear. It sent tingles shooting everywhere. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled, with desire and something more primal. “Answer me,” he prodded, biting down on her earlobe.

She nodded jerkily, pleasure spearing through her and stealing her ability to speak.

“I want to hear you say it,” he insisted, teeth scraping down her neck in an open-mouthed kiss. He sucked at her collarbone, and she gasped. Warmth kindled between her legs and a long liquid pull of pure lust. He pulled back, denying her. Cool air snuck between them. She made a sound of protest. A small, embarrassing sound of neediness. He looked down at her, every inch a duke, though he’d never admit it. Power and confidence emanated from him. He wrapped her long hair around his hand and tugged. “Say it.”

“It’s what I want.” She swallowed. “Your Grace.”

His voice was in her ear again, rough, silky. “Then it’s exactly what you’ll get.”

He stalked her across the room in three steps, pushing her against the wall. She was grateful for that wall. She might have melted entirely without its support. Her knees had turned soft, her thighs hot and loose. Nervous energy prickled through her and she loved every zap. He still had his one hand in her hair, but now his other hand lowered to graze her intimately. A soft caress, a tease. She tried to get closer. He tugged on her hair again, immobilizing her. For a long moment they just looked at each other.

And then he pushed a finger deep inside her and she arched, gasping. He followed with a second finger, crooking them slightly, pulling them out just enough to have her whining, plunging them back into her heat. Again and again until her toes curled, until she gripped his arms, until he kissed her, his tongue invading her mouth with the same rhythm. Pleasure coiled, started to nip through her, started to build. She was nearly there, it would sweep her away—

And then he stopped.

Her eyes flew open.

He smirked at her.

She caught her breath. “You—”

She didn’t have a chance to scold him, to beg, to chase the climax. He’d already swung her around, pushing her onto the bed. She landed with a soft bounce, and he towered over her, hot gaze raking her from toes to nose. “Dougal.”

He was so handsome, bare chest gilded by fire, breeches hung low, displaying the dip of muscles, the dark hair. She wanted to sketch him with her mouth. “Dougal, please.”

He moved up her body, gliding his fingers up her leg. She wanted him closer, wanted to touch him everywhere. He dipped his head to kiss the inside of her thigh, to nibble over her hip bone. He looked up at her from between her legs, blue eyes bright in the candlelight. And because he was Dougal, his voice gentled, his gaze went serious. “When you want anything to stop you only have to say so.”

She nodded, affection twining with the desire flooding through her. He bit the inside of her thigh and she jerked. “Say it,” he insisted, a dictatorial tone winding through his words. It did something to her. Heat tangled her tongue, hazed her brain.

“If I want you to stop, I only have to say it.” She was nearly panting. He was so close, his mouth hovering above her, breath tickling her triangle of hair. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

And then he was on her, feasting, licking lazily across her petals, swiping his tongue inside, teasing all around her clitoris. When she writhed nearly out of reach, his arm came down across her belly, pinning her in place. “Ah, ah,” he scolded, deep voice rumbling over her mound. She twitched, full of sensation she didn’t know what to do with. He finally sucked her bud into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it, lapping at it with a focused pace that did not waver, until she was moaning and gasping. He drew her with inexorable patience into the crescendo and it swept through her, so powerful as to tread the line between pain and pleasure.

When she was finally able to open her eyes, he was grinning up at her. “I will never tire of those sounds.”

She blushed. Or she thought she blushed. She wasn’t sure she was even capable of that. A feeling of sweet, deep peace flooded in after the waves of pleasure. He kicked off his breeches and crawled up her body and she discovered she had the energy after all.