How to Marry a Duke (A Cinderella Society 2)

Lots of energy, in fact.

She reached for him with her hands and her mouth and every part of her that could press against him. His breath stuttered when she closed her fingers over his shaft, stroking up and over the head. He was soft skin over hard flesh. His breathing turned harsher, and she reveled in it. She licked him from base to tip and he groaned. She licked him again and again, finally drawing him fully into her mouth. She sucked him as he had sucked at her, fluttering her tongue up the underside.

He grasped her shoulder and hauled her up. “I need to be inside of you. Now.”

He didn’t turn her onto her back again as she’d expected, but maneuvered her so that she was kneeling, legs on either side of him. He coaxed her down and she took him inside inch by inch until she was sitting astride him. The angle brought a new level of feeling. He stroked up her rib cage to cup her breasts and she fell slightly forward. Her hair curtained them both, creating another cocoon within a cocoon. He held her up as she began to move, moaning at the intimate friction, sliding down to rub her clitoris. She hadn’t known she could have two orgasms in one night, but there it was, building, building.

She rocked back and forth, taking him deeper still. He pushed up and the pressure, the angle of the thrust, his half-smile, his ragged breath, all fired through her until the orgasm stole her voice. She could only moan, head thrown back, as he thrust up again, groaning, panting and then pulled out, just as he came with a hoarse growl.

He tucked her against his side as their heartbeats slowed back down to normal. She touched the tip of her nose to his shoulder. He smelled like cedar again, and smoke. “You don’t have to do that anymore, you know. Pull out I mean. We are married now.”

He glanced at her. “Do you mind?”

“No.”

“It’s not that I don’t want children someday,” he said. “But your uncle has been starving you for years. I’d rather you had a chance to get healthy.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” she said, through the soft glow she thought might be emanating from her every pore.

He snorted, clearly disagreeing. Instead of saying anything else about it, he wet a towel and cleaned them both up. She was pleasantly sore, her thighs pink from the grain of his beard growing in. He brought her more tea, strong and sweet just how she liked it, as well as slices of pears and apples and fresh brown bread with butter and a hunk of honeycomb in a jar.

“You don’t have to keep feeding me,” she protested, though she loved it.

“Don’t I?” He licked a drop of honey off of his thumb and she came very close to purring in response. The line of his throat, his shoulders, the hard planes of his stomach were more delicious than any dessert.

“You need your energy,” he continued, his eyes flaring at her perusal and frank approval. “By my estimation there are many hours until morning and I intend to make good use of them.”