“I think I might need to know your persuasion tactics,” she murmured and leaned in to capture his mouth in a fervent kiss. She shoved up his shirt, and he took over, pulling it over his head. The minute his shirt was free, he was kissing her again, tossing it away. Forgotten and unimportant. All that mattered was the slide of tongue against tongue.
“I’d do anything my duchess desires.”
Her eyes slid shut, and heat slid through her. God, she loved the sound of that.His duchess. For so long, that word had tasted sour in her mouth, and now…it was sweet, it was heady, it was devastating. Devastating because it destroyed her in the best way.His. Because finally—bloody finally—this man admitted he wanted her, needed her, loved her.His.
Ash’s hands flew over the buttons of her bodice, and it sagged off her chest. “Begging on my knees wasn’t out of the question,” he said against her lips as he helped her free her arms and shove her dress and petticoats down her hips and off. He groaned. “Lord, I love that you go without corsets.”
His lip found her nipple through her chemise, and when he sucked her into his mouth, bliss pulled at her core. Her hands flew to his head. “I-I don’t actually make a habit of it. But the dresses I packed were…purposeful in that they were so tight I could barely fit a chemise beneath them.”
He grinned against her and nuzzled the side of her breast. “My seductress.”
Ash pulled her over him, so she straddled his lap, her chemise bunched around her hips and thighs. She ground against him, and they traded breathy moans, lips nipping, kissing, hungry and frantic.
His hands slipped up her thighs, over her hips, up her back before falling away much too soon. But then he was pulling at her hem. Cold air slapped her skin, and she hurried to lift her arms to help him rid her of her chemise.
Her hands dropped to his neck, and she pressed into him, her breasts crushed to his chest. The heat of their bodies collided, and she sucked in a breath at the raw pleasure of skin on skin. Her hips ground frantically in his lap. Not skin on skin everywhere. Bloody trousers.
She climbed off him and gave the band of his trousers a tug. “Off.” She trailed her hand down, skimming her nails over his shaft. She squeezed her thighs again. Her patience was wearingverythin. “Now,” she growled.
He chuckled, but it was strained. He quickly divested himself of his trousers and stockings. And then he was coming back to her, slowly shuffling toward her on his knees. Night had fallen completely now, and he was an array of flickering shadows. Moonlight caressing his skin from above and candle flame teasing his skin from below. He was nothing but muscle, the shadows darkening where his strength dipped and curved, the light playing over his flexing thighs as he moved toward her.
“Mmm,” she hummed. “I like you on your knees, Duke.”
His hands dropped on either side of her hips, eyes glinting as they locked on her. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her belly. His fingers dipped to where her thigh met her hip, light, teasing, tracing over her mound.
He dragged his lips down her stomach as he spoke. “Does my duchess require more persuasion?”
Yes. Quite. Assuredly. Most definitely.
But all she managed was a blasted moan.
He nudged her thighs apart and trailed his fingers between her legs and then back up again until he cupped her, held her in the heat of his hand. God, his touch was scalding. The throb between her legs was nearly unbearable. She was sure he must be able to feel it, too.
His lips coasted over the top of her thighs as he held her, his fingers doing nothing more than gently pressing, pulsing against her. His lips traveled closer to her core, his tongue lazily sliding over her skin until he reached where he held her. He traced around his fingers, the cruelest of caresses. It was too much and not enough at the same time. She arched into him.
Friction. She needed bloody friction.
His moan vibrated against her skin, and gooseflesh broke out over her body. “That’s it, darling. Rock into me.”
Ash finally started moving, massaging in small circles before he dropped his fingers low, parting her. Her breath caught at the same time he groaned, deep and rough.
His forehead dropped to the crease of her thigh. “So. Wet,” he gritted out. He took a steadying breath, the warm puff of air setting her skin to trembling. Her hips pushed into him in a silent plea for more.
“Just like that,” he praised. His tongue followed his fingers, and he licked over her, but it was a taunt, a torment, not quite what she needed. “I want you to use me, Lissy. When I bury my face between your pretty thighs, I want you to take what you need.”
And then he sank his fingers inside her.
Her eyes rolled, her back arching.Holy gloriest of all things that are glorious.Her thoughts weren’t even making sense, not even forming real words.
His mouth joined his fingers, and her hands flew to the blankets, holding on to them for dear life becausehis tongue. Thoughts—even the ones of the incoherent variety—fled, as did the ability to breathe.
His fingers unhurriedly slid in and out of her as his tongue licked lazily around where she ached the most for him. He was strategic with that blasted tongue of his, never quite giving her enough pressure, never quite traveling close enough to where she wanted him. He was a bloody tease, was what he was.
She growled at him, and his chuckle vibrated all the way through her core, pleasure arcing through her. She sucked in a breath. He groaned, pressing his face further into her, his satisfied “mmmm” sending more delicious vibrations against where she ached with need.
Her breaths burst from her, fitful and frantic. Frantic like the way her hips ground against his face. Like the way her heart beat with love for him. Like the way his fingers picked up speed, faster and deeper and so god-damned delicious.
Oh, but not as delicious as that tongue. His tongue flew over her, just above where he tortured her with his fingers. And she was helpless against the spiraling pleasure building in her core. Her head rocked back and forth, something swirling tighter and tighter andtighterwith every thrust of his fingers, with every flick of his tongue.
