“You must tell me when to stop,” he rasped. “Left to my own devices, I might never do. I would feast from your breasts until you are dry.”
That made laughter bubble out of her. “Don’t worry. They will fill back up soon enough.”
“Hmmm, what a marvel the female body is,” he said as he nuzzled from breast to breast before closing his mouth aroundone nipple and sucking again. This time, he pulled less. Her breasts were almost empty now. They felt almost normal. Except for the tingly sensation that traveled from the tip of her nipples to her womanly core.
Oh, goodness’ sake, how inappropriate. This was not supposed to be a sexual act. She had been in a predicament, and he had offered to help. This was the same action her baby performed, and yet...and yet, it was so different when Gabriel did it. She never experienced this tingling, this arousal. This madness.
She squirmed, trying to relieve the sensations swirling through her, and felt it. Even through the many layers of her skirt and petticoats, she felt the hardness of his rod pressing against her backside. Goodness gracious, he was aroused as well. But he had not tried to grope her. He had not sought to take advantage of the situation, even though she would have allowed him.
Allowed? She was practically begging for it.
He grunted, then let go of her nipple to rest his forehead against her chest. “Don’t pay it any mind. My rude cock has a mind of its own,” he rasped, before going back to her breasts.
The pleasure was reaching an excruciating point. It was terrifying. She pulled at his head. Her moan was something incoherent that he was able to correctly interpret, for he let her go. Leaning back on the sofa, he gathered her in his arms. Cradling her against his chest.
It was lunacy to feel this way, to engage in these activities when she had buried her husband a mere few hours ago. What kind of woman would frolic with her lover on the same day of her husband’s funeral? She needed to put an end to this. But Gabriel’s embrace felt so good and provided such comfort. She couldn’t relinquish it just yet. She needed a bit more. The grief,the exhaustion, the need...they were all swirling with shame inside her head.
“Stop it. Whatever you are thinking. This between us is not wrong. It does not negate our love and respect for the duke.”
“How can it not be wrong? Harold is not long dead, and we—”
“He wanted us to be together, to be happy. What would make you happy, my duchess? I’m yours to command.”
When he spoke like that, with that mix of sensuality and reverence, she could not resist him. For a year now, he had been suppressing his desire around her, out of respect for the duke. But that did not hold him back any longer. He wanted her, and he was letting her see it.
“Gabriel, I-I need you. It’s been so long...”
“Yes, it has. I’ve been starving for you. For your touch, for the feel of your skin under my hands and lips.”
As he spoke, a hand stole under her dress and caressed up her leg, painting a trail of desire. This! His touch. She had not allowed herself to dwell on it. Her pregnancy, delivery, and being a new mother had provided distractions. But now she was awakening again under his hands. She had been starving as well. Not only this last year, but her whole life before meeting him. Only he had awakened her passion.
His hand had reached the juncture of her thighs. “Open for me,” he ordered.
She complied. How could she not? The first touch of his clever fingers over her aching flesh had her moaning and opening her legs wider, the better to give him access.
“You are so wet, so soft. So ready for me.”
With that, he clamped his free hand around her nape and took her mouth in an incendiary kiss. A kiss full of need, hunger, sorrow, and solace. It was desperate and hopeful.
And all the while, his fingers never stopped caressing her. Sliding sensuously amid her slick folds, caressing the pointwhere all her sensations seemed to coalesce. He harnessed, directed, conjured them. Made them rise to a crescendo and gave no quarter as she exploded, capturing her scream with his mouth while he stayed with her throughout her crisis.
After he had brought her safely back to earth, he held her tight, asking for nothing more, even though he was breathing hard, his flesh an iron bar under her bottom.
How could he be so generous? Give so much of himself while expecting nothing in return? She wouldn’t stand for it. Reaching between their bodies, she grabbed the waistband of his trousers and started undoing his buttons.
He lay passive beneath her. Not helping, but not stopping her, either. When at last she freed his member, she closed her hand around it, tearing a strained groan from his chest.
“Take me,” he whispered, flexing in her hand.
She didn’t hesitate. Repositioning herself on top of him so that she was straddling him, she notched it at her entrance and sank down upon that wonderful shaft.
Her moan of ecstasy mingled with his. Their mouths sought each other in a kiss of welcome. Of new beginnings.
“I love the way your flesh clasps around mine. It feels so damn good.”
Such an ardent declaration soothed her doubts a bit. Despite that, she had to ask.
“Does it feel the same? My body has gone through childbirth—”
