He let his tongue lick around her nipple, slowly, teasing, but not giving in yet. He looked up at Arabella’s face, all to see her eyes hazed with lust, her teeth torturing her lower lip, her cheeks pink and flushed. He took the nipple in his mouth and sucked harder than before.
“Oh!” Arabella sighed.
It was a tough test for his control, seeing her completely surrender to him, hearing her little moans, his name spilling out of her mouth with such needy breath.
“You are doing so well,” he cooed.
The way Arabella trembled in his arms sent a spark of wicked satisfaction through him. The decision that he made tonight, to savor rather than claim, might be the most difficult of his entire life, and also the most delicious.
He kept his kisses scattered everywhere, from the soft curves of her breasts to her elegant collarbone, up the smoothness of her neck, just to reach that spot behind her ear that made her cry out.
And at the same time, his hand roamed lower, over her stomach that fluttered at his touch, and then rested softly on one thigh. With quiet patience, he pulled her a little closer, parting her legs only slightly.
He studied her face to see the reaction there, any sign of discomfort. Arabella felt his gaze and turned to meet his eyes. The moment he saw those baby-blue eyes, he knew that he would barely survive that night. They were wide and darker, conquered by the sensations rippling through her body. And if anything, she urged him to give her more.
“That’s it, Arabella,” he murmured over her lips. “You are doing so well.”
A tremor came over her, her eyes fluttering closed. Her lips parted, the lower one caught briefly between her teeth as she struggled to steady her breathing.
He needed to touch her, to feel how much she wanted this. He craved to show her how good he could make her feel, see her face and her body completely lost in his touch.
He shifted her on his lap softly, and his hand moved up her thigh. Slowly, reverently. He could tell this was all new to her, and he didn’t want to scare her. His hand made its way as his mouth took her lips into a searing kiss. She responded immediately, her velvet tongue darting out to meet his, dwelling with his, twining. For a moment, he forgot himself too and let his body enjoy every little sensation.
But then he remembered that he had a goal, and it was all focused on her. He pried her thighs open more, and his hand reached her core.
“Oh, Arabella!” he couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his mouth fast enough.
His Duchess was already wet and ready for him, blooming in her most hidden space. And she didn’t even know what she was doing to him with her kiss, her scent, and her body.
He dared more and caressed her folds, a feather touch at first to test her limits. She was here with him, his to touch. He could bide his time. He knew that he wouldn’t when a deep moan spilled from her mouth as her head lolled back, her eyes closed.
But what really almost undid him was the way she moved her body, desperately seeking more friction. It seemed that his Duchess was as fiery in her passion as she was in everything else. He was prepared to slow down and even stop, thinking this would be a blushing, timid lady. But his Arabella was letting go in his arms completely, responding to his every touch.
“Look at you,” he said quietly, his voice rougher now. “So responsive, so brave.”
He watched how her eyelashes fluttered at his words, the delicate rise and fall of her breath hitching, her fingers digging into his arm as if to hold on to reality.
And then she turned and looked at him, her blues swimming in a sea of need, her cheeks flushed not from shame but lust. He could get lost in those eyes. He almost did when she opened her kiss-swollen lips and uttered a single word.
“Please.”
A primal groan erupted from deep within him. She was begging him, even if she didn’t exactly know what it was she was pleading for. He unleashed himself on her, dropping all pretense of restraint and slow pace. He tightened his grip on her thighs, and his other hand tangled in her hair to pull her to him, angling her for a deep, wet, sloppy kiss. When she moaned deeply and ground in need, he allowed his fingers to explore more.
He ran his fingers, getting slick with her own juices, before he caressed her. Arabella trembled and broke the kiss to cry out atthe sensation. His mouth continued to devour her, behind her ear, down her neck, her breasts, while his fingers found the peak of her core, engorged and ready. One touch, and Arabella almost flew off his lap. He held her down, and his teeth grazed her neck. His fingers rubbed over that peak, circling it.
“Oh! I…” she groaned.
“Stay with me,” he said, his voice low and rough with approval.
Her fingers dug into his arm almost painfully, trying to control what was left of her sanity. He didn’t give her much reprieve. His fingers moved around that bundle of nerves again and again, his mouth nibbling on her ear.
“That’s it, just like that.”
Her breath came in quick, uneven pulls now, her body shaking, rocking against his hand.
“You are doing so well, Arabella,” he whispered in her ear.
He tightened his grip in her hair and claimed her mouth once more in a frenzied open-mouth kiss, wicked and demanding. She responded immediately, matching his passion, his need. He rewarded her with his touch.
