He flicked his hand at her and she smiled, a rather wicked smile at that. “Is the Duke of Donburrow requesting that I remove my chemise?” she teased.
He nodded his head ferociously and her smile turned into a throaty laugh.
“You want this?” she asked as she slid one strap of the chemise down her shoulder off her arm. “And this?” she pressed as she repeated the action on the other strap. She kept a hand at the neckline of the chemise, though—she wasn’t really revealed.
He pursed his lips and glared at her. The look didn’t deter her. If anything, his frustration and his drive only emboldened her.
“Perhaps this?” She tugged and the gown slipped a few inches, revealing her cleavage, almost enough but not quite.
“More,” he signed in desperation.
She cocked her head, examining his face in the glow of the firelight. Then she slowly, silently, dragged her chemise down to the waist and lowered her hands.
His legs nearly went out from under him. She was perfect. Charlotte was tall, so her full breasts fit her long, lean body. Her nipples were the color of dusky roses and they were hard. She was sliding the chemise lower, over her hips, down and down until it pooled at her feet and she kicked it away.
She stood naked before him, clad only in those sheer stockings, and all he could do was stare in shock, in awe, in rapture.
“You can do more than look,” she whispered, as if reading his mind. “I was made to be touched, Ewan. I was made to be yours.”
He wasn’t certain that was true. At least the part about her being made to be his. But made to be touched, oh yes, he could believe that. He stepped forward, clearing his mind of all the reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this, how he didn’t deserve this.
And he touched her. He cupped her breasts and heard a low, deep sound of pleasure come from somewhere in his chest. She tilted her head back with a gasp and it spurred him on. He began to circle her nipples with his thumbs, around and around as she reached up to grip his forearms.
“You certainly don’t let a lack of experience stop you,” she gasped.
He smiled and bent his head. He wanted to lick her, to taste her, and he did, tracing the shape of her nipple with the tip of his tongue. She cried out when he did so and he lifted his head to analyze if that was a sound of pleasure or dislike.
Pleasure, it seemed, for her eyes were squeezed shut and her body was quaking.
He returned his mouth to her, swirling his tongue around her over and over, and finally sucking the nub with just the slightest of force. Her fingers flew into his hair and she held him at her breast, mewling as he switched to the opposite nipple where he repeated the torment.
She was writhing now, her hips arching toward him, her sounds desperate and heated and he stared, mesmerized by her pleasure. He wanted to take his own, of course, but more than that, he wanted to give it to her. He wanted her to scream and wail and shake.
“Please,” she growled, catching his arms and tugging him closer. “Please.”
She pulled him and they fell onto her bed together. He covered her warm, soft body with his own and shivered despite the warmth of the room and the heat she inspired in him. She felt so perfect beneath him. Perfect and right, even if his mind kept trying to remind him that this was anything but right.
It didn’t matter anymore. This was a tidal wave. He couldn’t stop it. What would happen now was a force of nature. She pushed and he rolled onto his back, dragging her across him, lifting his mouth to hers. She drove her own kiss hard and he tasted her passion on her lips. Passion that mounted as she straddled his prone body, positioning her slick entrance over him until he felt the heat of her at the tip of his cock.
He pulled back, eyes wide, and watched as she lowered herself over him. Her soft folds parted to allow him entry and he gritted his teeth at the pure, animal pleasure of the act. She was wet and tight, gripping his sensitive cock like a glove that had been made to fit him. She let out a soft cry as she took him farther and farther, deeper into her ready channel until he was seated to the hilt, her body quivering around him.
He couldn’t find the words to sign as he stared up at her, and she smiled. “I know,” she whispered. “I know, Ewan. Just let it be, just let it happen.”
He nodded slowly and reached out to cup her hips. As his fingers pressed into her flesh, she began to ride him. She was slow at first, rolling her hips over him with control and purpose. She ground down on him, rubbing their pelvises together with every down stroke and ratcheting up the blinding pleasure that rushed through his blood and settled into every nerve ending of his being.
But the longer she went on, the more erratic her thrusts became. Her face twisted with pleasure, her legs shook against his sides as she gripped him, slammed over him, reaching and reaching. At last she let out a wild cry and her back arched as she shuddered over him.
And she had never been so beautiful as she was in that moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He stared at her face as she shivered against him, memorizing the way her lips parted, how her eyes were screwed shut, how her hands gripped in fists against his chest. He memorized how her sheath squeezed him, milking him toward his own pleasure that he felt building with more intensity than he’d ever felt it coming before.
As if she sensed the same thing, her eyes came open and she began to move faster over him. Harder. She kissed him as she took him, riding him toward an end he couldn’t control. One he wanted to take as she writhed over him.
And then it was there. He gripped her hips harder and flipped her over onto her back. He covered her, grinding down over her with thrust after thrust as she lifted to him with a keening cry that could have brought the house down but somehow didn’t.
It took everything in him not to spend deep within her. He pulled free just as the first spurts of his release began and pumped hot and hard into his hand. Finally, he collapsed down next to her and dragged her against him to hold her as close and as tight as he could.
Chapter Four
When she was a girl, Charlotte had dreamed of her future with Ewan, and it had been all sunshine and flowers and castles on the hill. As she got older, she’d wanted his kiss or to hold his hand.
