He gripped her tighter, easing her up off him only to guide her forcefully back down.
Her hands gripped for purchase on his shoulders as he thrust over and over again, deliciously slowly inside her. With every pump he felt his pleasure growing.
Her soft moaning grew louder with every passing moment until her body trembled uncontrollably, and soon he felt the abrupt and warm release of her juices all over his manhood. It seeped down between his thighs, making everything slick with her pleasure.
And it only urged him on.
Unable to control himself any longer, he picked her up in his arms and guided her back to her own seat. Without removing himself from her, he placed her there and knelt between her wondrous thighs, squeezing them even as he thrust deep inside her once more.
“Oh, Alex!” she screamed loud enough for all of London to hear her. And it only made him thrust harder, faster, until he was so near climax that it would be painful to try and hold it off any longer.
“Oh, fuck, Emmaline! I can't hold it off any—”
“Then don't!” she cried, gripping hold of his buttocks to guide him passionately deep inside her.
He exploded with a harsh, animalistic growling groan, the pleasure breaking forth with such ferocity it took his breath away.
And as the wave crashed over him, he wondered how much more pleasurable being inside her could possibly become. The first time had been wonderful. This time it had felt miraculous.
Suddenly, a life filled with duty, responsibility and some remorse did not seem so bad. For he believed that if she could feel this way to him, how could it possibly be otherwise for her? If their lovemaking was to be this way, if she was to be at his side in his duties, he thought that perhaps he might just one day go to his grave a happy man after all.
Chapter 20
Emmaline had only heard of the term wedded bliss on a couple of occasions and upon marrying the devil lord, she had believed it was not in the cards for her. But, just two weeks after their first falling into bed together, Emmaline could say without doubt that she felt it.
Spending her days in the luxury of the duke's—and now her own—London home, free to go about whatever business she desired within reason, she was content, even happy. Spending her nights in the club at her husband's side was another place she found contentment. So long as she was with him, protected by him, touched by him, she felt safe.
And when he was not around, she felt the oddest little ache in her gut which turned to butterflies the very moment that she saw him again.
Perhaps it had been the way he engaged with the children at the orphanage, or maybe it was just his private personality in general that made her realize he was in fact a good man, but either way she knew it to be true. And, she realized quite surprisingly, she believed she loved that man.
She had even come to love the devil lord. Not his harshness or his need to keep everyone fearful but his ruthlessness did lend a certain feeling of protection wherever she went. It was a wonderful feeling, to be secure.
And then there was the lovemaking. It was the same no matter whether he wore the devil's mask or not. Either way, he set her blood pulsing, her heart racing, and her arousal dripping between her thighs.
As she sat in the window seat of the library, a book in hand, she could not help thinking of the night before, when he had pulled her into his office in the club and kissed her with only their masks between them.
When he had swept everything off his desk to place her upon it, she had looked into his eyes, and she had seenhim.She had felt all of the passion, desire and perhaps even love that he had wished to give to her. And there had been plenty of it as he had hitched up her skirts and dropped to his knees to worship her with the same passionate kisses as her lips.
He showed that same passion with everything that he did from business to his charity work and to making love with her.
Over the last two weeks there had been a great deal of it. In his office at the club, in his study at home, in the sunroom and the breakfast room, even in the secret garden. Emmaline thought his mother would forgive them given the circumstances of his needing an heir. After all, she had the same duties once and Alex had said himself, more than once, that his mother would have liked her.
They had even made love right on the window seat and oh, what a delicious moment that had been, clutching hold of his shoulders even as he held her legs up with his forearms to drive himself deep inside her.
How she had come to know every part of this man in only two weeks was astonishing to her. She only wished that others might see him for who he truly was. And one day, she was determined for it to be so, though she would not have their most intimate parts shared with anyone, save perhaps for a little girlish giggle with her sister, Jane.
And it was Jane that she awaited in the library for their usual weekly afternoon tea and card games, a thing the duke had insisted upon due to his belief that family was the most important thing in the world.
She was, however, most embarrassed when Benedict knocked upon the door to announce her visitor. She could only hope that as she received him, she did not give away the sheer, stifling desire she felt when thinking of all the wondrous things her husband had done to her body of late.
“Thank you, Benedict, you may see my sister in,” Emmaline said the moment he arrived in the library, bowing before her.
Having stood on his knock, she adjusted her skirts and cleared her throat, she prayed her cheeks were not as abundantly red as they felt.
“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I am afraid Lady Jane has not yet arrived.”
Startled, Emmaline took a step back, dropping back down onto her seat.
