Fortunately, Lottie was similarly voracious. She hooked a bare leg over his hip beneath the bedclothes, bringing her slick, hot cunny into contact with his groin. Beneath the coverlet and sheet, his fingers unerringly found her center, tracing over her seam to swirl over her clitoris. She moaned into his kiss, feeding him her tongue now, twining her fingers in his hair as she pumped her hips into his hand, seeking.
He grasped his cock, dragging it up and down her folds before sliding into her with one deep thrust. She was wet and welcoming, tightening on him instantly, and it was pure bliss as he began a rhythm, gliding in and out of her. Not just bliss. Perfection. Her body had been made for his.
Their tongues tangled, their kiss growing more frantic. He intended to shag her senseless this night. As many times as he could. To fill her with his spend. The thought made him harder, his cock even more determined as he drove into Lottie’s sweetly pulsing cunny. He teased her bud, and she cried out, clamping down on him as she came.
He tore his lips from hers, raining kisses down her throat, over her breast. Taking a nipple in his mouth, he sucked hard as he thrust into her again and again. He was close. So close.
He rolled to his back, pulling her astride him, his cock still gloved inside her velvet heat. “Ride me, Venus.”
She was atop him, all curves and copper-flecked cream and wild-rose pink, from her pussy to her nipples to her lips. Herhair was a riotous halo of cinnamon curls, her breasts full and high. A goddess, a conqueror. She undulated against him, her palms planted on his shoulders as she fucked him.
He watched, mesmerized by the sight of his harsh, ruddy cock impaling her pretty feminine flesh again and again, trying to stave off his own release for as long as possible. But she felt so good, so slick, a mixture of her desire and his own seed coating them both, and he thought he might happily die from the sheer pleasure of it—being inside her, watching her ride him and take what she needed, a marauding Venus intent upon finding her own climax. He leaned up and caught her other nipple in his mouth as she rocked down on him, taking him deep.
She moaned his name, head tilted back, eyes closed, and continued her rhythm. He was moving too now, helping her, his hips leaving the mattress to thrust upward as she received him. A symphony of sounds swirled around them—skin colliding, ragged breaths, soft moans, the creaking of the bed as their lovemaking became more frenzied and desperate.
Suddenly, she seized on him, crying out as her back bowed and a new rush of wetness bathed his cock, spasms of her cunny bringing him swiftly to the edge. He couldn’t last. Clasping her waist, he guided her up and down his length once, twice, thrice more, and then he surged upward a final time, filling her with the hot burst of his seed.
His heart galloping, he released her nipple and sank back against the bed, more certain than ever of one thing.
Whether she liked it or not, Lottie was his.
CHAPTER 16
She had broken the cardinal rule of taking a lover.
Lottie stared at the missive on her writing desk, overwhelmed by the cloying grasp of dread. The masculine scrawl was familiar. The tone was teasing, intimate, and she had been awaiting it from the moment she had risen that morning, beset by an acute sense of eagerness she hadn’t been able to shake, despite how very much shedidn’twant to feel it.
The note itself was nothing extraordinary. An invitation to tea with himself, Pandy, and Cat. It was also one she couldn’t—mustn’t—accept. The time had finally come to face what could be avoided no longer.
There was no doubt that Lottie was going to have to put an end to her affair with the Duke of Brandon. A fortnight had passed since that glorious night of lovemaking at Brandon’s house in St John’s Wood. Fourteen precious days and nights which had passed in a blur of pleasure. They had met most evenings. At his love nest, in his carriage, in an alcove at a ball, in her own bedroom where she had not previously allowed another lover.
And in all this time, she had never, not once tired of him. She woke, counting the minutes and hours until she could see himagain. Their lovemaking had grown, their knowledge of each other’s bodies rendering each assignation better than the last. Frantic coupling or all-evening seduction, it didn’t matter. Their every interaction left her longing for him even more.
It was a grievous mistake. One she knew too well. She had allowed Brandon past her defenses. But now, the time had come to resurrect the wall she’d built around her shattered heart. Before it was too late. Caring for him was one thing. What she was beginning to feel now was so much more, which was why it had to be stopped.
One never developed too much tender sentiment for a lover. Because doing so inevitably led to peril. Heartbreak, disappointment, disillusionment. She had suffered once, and she would not do so again.
It was settled.
Putting pen to paper, she composed her answer to Brandon’s invitation, and for the first time in a fortnight, she declined.
“Jenkinson,” she called to her lady’s maid, who was across the chamber, busying herself with her duties for the morning.
“Yes, my lady?”
“See that this note is sent to His Grace, the Duke of Brandon, if you please,” she said, holding the folded missive out for her lady’s maid to take. “And have my carriage readied as well. I’m going to pay a call to some friends today.”
A call to all her friends. Every friend she could find. Anything to keep her from giving in to the desire to see Brandon again.
“Of course, Lady Grenfell,” said the ever-efficient Jenkinson. “Shall I prepare a promenade dress?”
Oh, how she longed to don a tea dress and join Brandon, Pandy, and Cat. She adored Pandy, and she was inordinately fond of Cat. But she had fallen into the same pattern each day of vowing she would not spend more time with the duke before swiftly giving in.
“A promenade dress would be just the thing,” she answered, forcing a smile she didn’t feel.
It was for the best, she told herself. She had known from the start their affair could not last. Best to draw the blood now and then find the time to heal. Already, she knew she could not bear the day when she would inevitably see the notice of his engagement inThe Times.
This had to stop.
