He’d yanked her down on his face. His hot licking forced a moan from her lips.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he said thickly. “Ride my tongue.”
Heat washed over her as she did exactly that. She abandoned herself to the pleasure of her husband’s masterful loving.
“Your pussy is my favorite meal. Can you feel my tongue inside you?”
“That’s so wicked,” she panted.
“But you love it, don’t you?”
Speared upon his tongue, she gasped her agreement. She balanced herself on his hard torso, grinding against him, decorum vanquished by mindless delight. She gazed at her husband laid before her like a buffet: his sculpted chest, sinewy legs, and long, thick cock. Strings of desire tugged at her core, releasing some inner floodgate. Despite the heady bliss, she was embarrassed by her gushing response and tried to dismount.
He held her fast.
“I’m licking my plate clean, duchess,” came his muffled growl. “But if you are hungry, feel free to have your own feast.”
At his suggestion, her gaze flew to his massive member. Did he mean that she could…that they could do this simultaneously? The image from the book flashed across her mind’s eye. Before she could lose her nerve, she inched forward, circling her fingers around his shaft. His cock was so hard that she had to pry it from the ridges of his abdomen. The head was red and swollen, lustrous with his essence.
Leaning forward, she licked the dripping tip.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Suck me.”
With a hum of excitement, she did. He was delicious—salty and male, so hot and hard in her mouth. His earthy words of encouragement, muttered against her own quivering flesh, emboldened her. She took him deeper, urged on by his guttural praise.
“What a hungry little nymph I married.”
Delirious with desire, she wriggled against his mouth as he slid inside her own. He pushed her forward, impaling her mouth on his spear even as he filled her with his tongue. She pumped his shaft, sucking and sucking as he ate her pussy. The pleasure built and built, and when she felt his finger breach her forbidden entrance, she let out a squeak.
“All mine, remember?” he said thickly. “Even here.”
What he was doing felt too naughty, too good. With feverish abandon, she cupped his stones, and his growl spilled like honey through her veins.
“You have the sweetest touch,” he gritted out. “The sweetest mouth…”
She tried to take more of him as her pleasure reached a zenith.
“Christ. Move, Gigi. Or I’ll spill in your mouth?—”
The notion was enough to send her over. She pulled him from her lips with a pop, pumping his shaft with jerky movements as ecstasy rolled through her. A heartbeat later, he roared and exploded…thick, milky fluid jetting from him. It splattered her cheeks, chin, and lips, and she reveled in his hot pleasure. She nuzzled his still-hard cock while he kissed her thigh. They rocked together, taking and giving, until the crisis passed.
Afterward, they lay face-to-face.
“I didn’t shock you, did I?” he asked.
“Which part are you referring to?” She felt oddly lighthearted. “The fact that I married a duke’s heir, or what we just did?”
He laughed.
“I should have known you had hardy sensibilities.” His eyes brilliant, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “If I live to be a hundred, duchess, I will never have enough of you. You are my deepest fantasy…and more.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Nervous, duchess?”
“A bit,” Gigi whispered back. “I have friends and acquaintances here tonight. They are already looking at us and talking.”
She wasn’t wrong. They’d arrived at the Grantley residence mere moments ago and were waiting to be announced. Standing at the top of the staircase, Conrad felt the heat of curious gazes from the ballroom.
