What a Duke Dares (Sons of Sin 3)

Then roughly he whirled her around and slammed his mouth into hers.

Chapter Twenty-Two

As Pen’s mouth opened beneath Cam’s, he tasted blind hunger. She was like living flame, clinging so close it was as though she tried to join her body to his where they stood. Her generous response made his heart leap. A powerful wave of thankfulness swept him.

He nudged her until she toppled onto the mattress. He longed to feast his senses, etch her into his memory. But instinct insisted that if he hesitated, she might recall the last time they’d shared this bed.

Pen stared at him, eyes languorous. Her full lips parted, awaiting more kisses. Her arms spread across the sheets. Her shining hair fanned around her.

Whatever the risks, Cam paused to capture this moment for when he was old. She was beautiful. More beautiful, even, than he’d thought. Perhaps the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Move over, Pen,” he said softly, lifting one foot to tug off his shoe. She obeyed instantly, with a wriggle of long, elegant legs and pale skin.

He removed his second shoe and kicked it away. His hands hovered over the buttons fastening his trousers before he decided that for now, he was better keeping them on. Reining himself in nearly killed him. Lying beside her naked would push him over the edge.

He slid onto the bed. When he’d kissed her, his blood had thundered with urgency. Somewhere since, he found that, however he burned, he wanted to cherish her. Sweetness flooded him as he lay on his side, head supported on one bent arm. He stroked tendrils of hair back from her brow.

Avidly she examined his features. He didn’t know what she sought. He hoped whatever it was, she found it. Standing by the bed, he’d read her desire. Now only inches away, he read vulnerability. His kiss conveyed admiration and gratitude and a silent promise to make her happy. “Pen—”

“Don’t talk.”

Once before he’d ignored that command and he’d paid for it ever since.

She took her time exploring his mouth. And he, transfixed, let her. He collapsed onto the pillows and she rolled over him, kissing him with leisurely enjoyment. He buried his hand in the tumble of black hair. Without breaking the kiss, he turned to lean above her. She gasped as he voluptuously rubbed his hips across hers.

Fear or pleasure?

Last night he’d mistaken enthusiasm for readiness. He’d rather smash onto Goodwin Sands again than repeat that mistake.

Carefully he parted her thighs and stroked her. Dear Lord, she was wet. When he found the center of her pleasure, she jerked against his hand.

Again he touched her and her eyes opened wide with surprise. “That’s… wicked.”

He smiled, deepening the pressure until she squirmed. “It is indeed.”

Gently, fighting his blood’s pounding command to take her, take her, take her, he slid his middle finger inside her. As carefully as a jeweler setting a diamond, he inched forward. He studied her face, alert for discomfort.

She looked strained and intense. When she tightened against his incursion, he struggled to contain the urge to push her further, faster. He curled his finger, rubbing the sleek pas

sage with his knuckle. On a choked sound, she lifted her hips. When he kissed her, her ardent response demanded more.

With a slow, suggestive slide, he withdrew. This time, he tested her with two fingers, subtly stretching her. She bit her lip, eyes flaring at his intimate caresses. The craving to taste her sex made his mouth water, but he restrained himself. He bore down with the heel of his hand, making her buck against the mattress. She grabbed his arms with frantic hands. When he pulled free, she released a disappointed whimper.

Her hands fluttered across his chest, setting off blasts of heat wherever they landed. He kissed her again, plunging his tongue into her mouth. As she yielded, the seemingly random brush of her hands became more purposeful. When she flattened her palms against his nipples, he started.

“Do you like that?” She trailed her lips up his cheekbone.

“Yes,” he said, not sure if he did. Her slightest caress threatened incineration.

He gritted his teeth as she circled her palms. Those fiendish hands drifted lower. One curved over his right buttock. The other covered his cock. He groaned with a painful mix of elation and frustration.

Her fingers tightened until he saw stars. “Take off your trousers.”

He reared up on one arm. “You need to be ready.”

To his surprise, she laughed. “Any more ready and I’ll be flying.”

When she pressed the underside, white heat blinded him. “Pen—”