When to Dare a Dishonorable Duke (Romancing the Rake 7)

Her mind was fuzzy with need and as her eyes fluttered open, she swiped her tongue across her swollen mouth. “That did answer several questions, I believe.”

“Which ones?” he asked, keeping her body pressed to his. “Did you decide to accept my terms?”

* * *

Bloody hell, Damian thought as he looked down at the beautiful woman in his arms. The moonlight danced off her dark hair. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dark and sultry with desire, her body fit to his.

She had to accept his offer. He needed this woman in his bed. Desperately.

She licked her lips as she glanced up at the sky. “No. Not that,” she answered. “But I had wondered if it was possible to…” then her head dipped down as her words tapered off.

What was she going to say? “Tell me.”

“I’ve never.” She drew in a deep breath. “I’ve never felt such…” She paused again. “Need. I wasn’t sure I even could.”

She’d never finished? A woman with her passion just below the surface had never experienced pleasure at a man’s touch? A new desire roared through him. He wanted to be the man who showed her. “You can.”

“Really? Do you know that for certain?” Her nails bit into the back of his neck. “I’ve been worried that I—”

He didn’t let her finish. The best way to explain was to show her and so he dipped his head, capturing her lips again even as he wrapped his arms below her behind, and picked her up. Her legs naturally wrapped about his waist and he wished there weren’t so many clothes between them.

But they were out in the garden and it was early yet. He’d see her without them soon enough. Right now, he wished to show her what he already knew. She was capable of passion, lots of it. And he was the man to show her.

With that in mind, he ran his hands up and down her back even as he set her on the wall behind them. His cock was cradled between her legs and he pushed their hips closer together, pressing as much as he could. Despite all her skirts, she felt the pressure and moaned into his mouth. Good.

Damian slid his hands to the front, massaging up her belly and over her breasts. They filled his hands nicely, despite her trim frame and he gave the flesh a squeeze even as he ached with want. She arched her back to silently beg for more of his touch.

He let out a low guttural noise deep in his throat, moving his hand down her body all the way to her ankle before he flicked up her skirts, sliding his fingertips over her stockings and pantaloons.

As he reached her thigh, her pulse, already racing, quickened until it was pounding against his, her hands threading into his hair.

Damian parted the slit of her pantaloons and slid the tip of one finger along her seam. She cried out, thrusting her hips toward his hand and he grinned against her mouth. She was on fire, burning for him and he loved every second. He could only hope that she melted him down and reformed him again.

It had been so long since a woman had wanted him this way and he’d savor every second, the feel of her silky flesh, the need pulsing in him.

“What’s your given name?” he whispered in her ear.

“Cassandra,” she answered, her voice breathy and perfect.

“Cassandra,” he repeated, loving the feel of the name on his tongue. Desire throbbed through his body as he squeezed her behind, pressing her closer. He was going to love something else on his tongue even more. He slid his finger along her seam again, spreading her a bit wider, her slick heat enveloping his finger. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Yes,?

? she murmured, turning her face back to his.

He did kiss her then, light and tender before he pulled away and dropped to his knees. Her fingers tightened in his hair.

“Damian?” she asked, fear lacing her voice, even as he pushed her skirts higher.

“Don’t be afraid, love. You’re going to like it, I promise.”

She didn’t answer as he slid under the fabric, finding her center and reached out his tongue to follow the trail his finger had just blazed. He heard the muffled sound of her gasp, felt her shudder as he repeated the movement.

Cassandra tugged at his hair, even as he circled her nub of pleasure with the tip of his tongue. Her moan told him he’d hit the right spot and he circled again, sliding a finger inside her hot channel. She was molten and he was melting for her.

Her thighs shook as he increased the pressure, giving her no repose. She tightened around him, her body’s tension building higher and higher, her moans taking on a keening pitch.

She was close. Damn if he didn’t love that sound. Her reaction couldn’t be faked, there was no artifice here. Just passion. And he’d have all of her before he was done.