His control snapped like overtightened wire. He fisted his hand in her unbound hair, pulling her head back with enough force to make her gasp. “Careful what you wish for, wife.”
“Show me.” The words vibrated against his mouth as he dragged his lips down her exposed throat. “Show me everything you have held back...”
He bit down where her pulse fluttered, hard enough to mark this time, sucking the delicate skin until he knew she would wear the evidence of his possession tomorrow. She moaned, grinding down against him with shameless need.
“Such sounds from a duchess,” he growled, but his hands were already pushing her nightrail up, finding nothing but warm skin beneath.
“No drawers?” His voice had gone rough, dangerous.
“They seemed… unnecessary, given my intentions.”
He laughed, dark and low, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs hard enough to bruise. “You have been planning this while playing the invalid? Need I remind you, you are supposed to beresting.”
“I have been going mad!” She worked at his shirt fastenings with desperate fingers. “Watching you pace the room, listening to your voice reading to me, feeling you so close but untouchable. I need you, Keaton. I need you to remind me I am still alive.”
The raw honesty in her voice broke something in him. He stripped his shirt off with violent efficiency, then made quick work of her nightrail, tossing it aside. His hands mappedher naked body in the darkness, relearning every curve, every sensitive spot that made her writhe.
“You are mine,” he growled, not in a question but a declaration. “Every inch of you…”
“Prove it.”
The challenge in her voice sparked something primal in him. He flipped her onto her stomach with careful but firm hands, pulling her hips up while pressing her shoulders down into the mattress. The position left her completely vulnerable, exposed to his touch.
“Is this what you wanted?” His hand smoothed down her spine, over the curve of her bottom, between her thighs where she was already dripping with arousal. “To be at my mercy?”
“Yes,” she gasped into the pillow as his fingers found her entrance, testing her readiness. “God, yes.”
He worked her with deliberate skill, two fingers stretching her while his thumb circled that bundle of nerves that made her whole body tremble. She pushed back against his hand, seeking more, but he held her steady with his free hand on her hip.
“Patience,” he commanded, adding a third finger, feeling her stretch around him. “You'll take what I give you when I decide to give it.”
She moaned at his authoritative tone, her body clenching around his fingers. The sound nearly undid his control. With his free hand, he fumbled with the falls of his breeches, cursing softly at the complexity of fastenings he could normally manage without thought.
“Let me—” Georgia started to turn, reaching to help him.
“Stay exactly where you are.” His voice brooked no argument, and she shuddered at the command, resuming her position. He withdrew his fingers slowly, making her whimper at the loss, using both hands now to strip away the last barrier between them.
The cool air against his heated skin made him hiss. He could hear Georgia's breathing quicken in anticipation, feel the way she trembled, waiting.
“Now,” he murmured, positioning himself behind her, one hand on her plump hip to steady her. “Ask for it properly.”
“Please...” she gasped. “Please, I need you inside me…”
“More specific, darling.”
“I need—” She broke off with a moan as he teased her entrance with just the tip of himself. “I need you to take me... Hard. Make me forget everything but your name.”
“Good girl.” The praise made her shudder. He pushed inside her in one smooth thrust, bottoming out with a groan. The angle was deeper than last time, more intense, and he could feel her whole body trembling.
“Too much?” He stilled, one hand stroking soothing circles on her lower back despite his desperate need to move.
“Perfect…” she gasped. “Please, don't stop…”
He set a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving deeper, the sound of skin against skin obscene in the quiet room. Georgia buried her face in the pillow to muffle her cries, but he wouldn't allow it, tangling his hand in her curly tresses to turn her head.
“I want to hear you,” he breathed against the nape of her neck. “Every sound. Let the whole household know who you belong to.”
She cried out at his next thrust, no longer trying to be quiet. Her hands fisted in the sheets, her back arching beautifully as he found the angle that made her see stars.
