What a Duke Dares (Sons of Sin 3)

agic.”

Shock made Harry rear up. He stared at the gorgeous creature beneath him. “Your brother should have paid her double.”

Their mouths molded together. When he raised his head, he heard her unsteady breathing. “Now touch me,” she whispered.

He didn’t succumb, whatever frantic approval his cock sent to his blood-starved brain. “Are you sure?”

Laughter lit her face, but profound emotion underlay the humor. “Harry, I’m naked in your arms. That means I’ve surrendered.”

The gleam in her eyes was irresistible. “All hail the victor.”

When she stretched up to kiss him, he couldn’t hold back. He’d wanted her so long.

He stroked her. Now she was naked, it felt like exploring a new country of gentle hills and valleys and plains. He concentrated on sensitive regions. Behind her knees. Her sweet, beaded nipples. Her nape. Deliberately he didn’t touch her sex, although her female scent made him shake with need. He kissed the tip of her breast, then drew it between his lips, hearing her sigh of pleasure. He rolled the other nipple between his fingers.

She shifted restlessly. “Oh, Harry…”

His tongue teased her nipple as his hands drifted down her flanks to her waist and the alluring flare of her hips. Finally, unable to wait, he slipped his hand between her legs. He stroked the satiny folds, finding the place that made her gasp and tremble. Taking encouragement, he touched her over and over until she cried out and gushed over his fingers. When he raised his head, her eyes were dark and her face was flushed. Her parted lips were full and red.

“Sophie?”

She blinked as if returning from far away. “I liked that.” Her slender throat worked as she swallowed. “Can you do it again?”

Triumph surged. “Shall I try?”

Her flush became more hectic. “Harry, I feel… empty without you.”

Immediately he understood. Hunger vied with his overwhelming need to cherish her. For all her vitality and eagerness, she seemed fragile. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She pressed so close to where he wanted her. Every time she moved, he struggled not to penetrate her. “I want you.”

Rapidly he reached a point where he needed to take the final step in this dance or leave the house. Given his state of undress, that would give the good residents of Russell Square something to talk about.

Very gently, he slid one finger into her. His belly contracted at how tight she was. He stroked her deep, feeling her clench. He used two fingers, making her pant for air. She was sleek and wet and her scent sharpened with need.

He stroked her until she quaked under the intimate caress, then he withdrew and propped himself above her. She raised her knees and tilted her chin with a defiant gesture that was so familiar, so beloved, that his pounding heart skipped a beat. Still, careful of her innocence, he eased forward. He inched inside until she’d accepted the head completely. She quivered and dug her fingers into his arms.

He kissed her until she relaxed. He pushed further. She breathed in gusts. A line appeared between her fine blond eyebrows.

“Should I stop?” he grated.

She shook her head and he felt her brace. Her tightening body blasted him with pleasure. “You’ll split in two if you stay this rigid.”

“This isn’t very… nice.” She closed her eyes on a wince.

“Sophie, I can stop.” He wasn’t sure he could. But he’d try. Dear heaven, he’d try. His carnal nature yelped denial at the prospect of chaste adoration. Having touched her body and witnessed her pleasure, it seemed the direst punishment.

“Don’t… stop.” To back up that choked command, she angled her hips, drawing him deeper.

“I must.” Sweat covered his skin and his muscles ached. His teeth must be ground to powder.

“No.” She clasped his buttocks. Her touch made him shake.

“Sophie, I’m sorry,” he muttered in a mixture of despair and unworthy pleasure. “I’m so sorry.”

On a deep groan, he thrust forward. She jolted at the invasion and released a soft cry. He closed his eyes and basked in heavenly completion. He felt part of her. They were united in a way that extended beyond words. No man could sunder them now.

He lowered, supporting his weight on his hands. Nuzzling her cheek, he pressed his chest into her breasts. She remained still and silent. He told himself to retreat. But he’d exhausted control. Instead, he stretched above Sophie in delight and self-hatred, and wondered despairingly whether she’d ever forgive him.