I bounce among the remarkable abundance of pillows and am about to scamper down the other side when he joins me on the bed and seizes my wrist.
“Where, pray, do you intend to flee, my lady? The night grows quite late.”
“Does it, my lord?” My voice is so filled with desire my own ears detect it.
“It does indeed.” His gaze rakes me up and down, and I am keenly aware I am only in my shift.
Heat surges to fill my face, but it is not unpleasant kind.
He moves his hand to my shift, but the moment his hand is upon it, he grows still. “May I?”
“Yes,” I breathe. It is the word I should have said from the moment he inquired of my longing.
His Grace is gentle as he lifts my shift over my head. When I am laid bare, no secrets between us, I grow quite still. But the fire in his gaze as he looks upon my naked form holds no rebuke—it only warms.
“You are… exquisite,” he breathes.
I smile, and though our kisses have not felt shy, I am so now. But he lies me back and looms over me, and I have more important things to think of. First, the feeling of his lips upon my cheeks. Then the soft press of them upon my eyelids—each in turn.
My heart surges against my breast with frenzied beating as his lips move to my breast. Then he envelops my nipple in his warm mouth, suckling until I nearly come apart. I reach out and entwine my fingers in his hair. This only spurs him on, and he switches breasts—suckling one while his fingers pluck at my other nipple until I writhe beneath him.
“Your Grace,” I gasp, but soon I have no air as his fingers travel down, sliding over my stomach. I cannot wait any longer—I need him inside me. I splay my legs, closing my eyes as wetness spills from my sex onto my thighs.
He does not seem to feel need to hasten, and his lips continue at a leisurely pace, pressing fire-tinged kisses wherever they descend.
It is wonderfully maddening. His tongue circles my belly button before plunging inside.
“You taste exquisite,” he breathes before resuming his journey down my body.
“Please, my lord,” I murmur.
With his bare hand, he skims down my leg. “Please, what? Come now, tell me what you wish me do, my lady. Do not be coy.”
“Can we…” I hesitate, hoping he will see my longing without my having to speak.
“Yes, my lady?”
Perhaps he can read my expression, but if so, he refuses to set me free. I groan inwardly. “Can you…” I press my hands to my hot cheeks and realize I am still wearing my gloves. My surprise makes me giggle.
“What amuses you, my lady?”
I hold out my hands and wiggle my gloved fingers at him. “It would seem you have forgotten something, my lord.”
“Ah, indeed. Allow me to remedy my error at once.” He locks eyes with me as he removes my gloves, one at a time, and it would be impossible to miss the hunger in his gaze.
“Please, I do not wish for you to take your time, my lord. I am in great need,” I force the words past lips that do not wish to set them free.
The duke regards me with intense fervor. “As am I, my lady, but for this, our first time?—”
I sit up, take his hand, and place it where I desire it most—between my legs, upon my most intimate part, and splay my legs wide, holding nothing back from him.
“You truly wish to hasten me so?” he murmurs, swirling a finger around my sex, his touch whispering across the opening of my flower without truly entering.
I arch my back, pushing my sex toward him as a whimper escapes my parted lips.
He chuckles, and I feel my womb tighten at the sound—there is no denying the arousal it causes. “As you wish, my lady.”
But before I can feel exuberance, or apprehension, he is tugging me to the edge of the bed. “My lord, what?—”
