That hard, male length she’d tried to explore surged at her core, seeking entry even through the barrier of his silk breeches.
His eternal restraint seemed to have snapped.
Alexanderhad begun the evening with controlled kisses but now the ferocity that she sometimes glimpsed beneath his meticulous exterior had been unchained…and she loved it.
Aideen pulled at his shirt, endeavouring to haul it over his head, but he took command, throwing it to the floor in a most un-ducal manner.
She ogled his body: slender but not skinny, firm muscles flexed in arm and chest, a smattering of hair covered his torso, and on his left shoulder, a nasty scar covered with a…
“Is that a tattoo?”
“Hmm,” he growled, as his hand swept over her stomach and hip.
“Of an initial D?” Shewastrying not to ruin the moment, but really? The erstwhile stuffy duke – although he wasn’t currently being very stuffy – had a tattoo.
She gasped as that hand encroached between her legs, brushing with feathered strokes, then firmer.
“D for Duke?” she enquired, stifling a moan as his fingers caressed with rhythmic need.
No answer was forthcoming, and he continued to rouse, the sweet pleasure building within. His mouth moved to her breast again, laving and sucking with ruthless resolve.
“Demanding?” she queried with a cry. Her hips ground in tandem with his hand, body writhing until she could stand the tautness no longer. Too much. Not enough. “Desperate?”
Alex’s gaze pierced her, those fully lashed green eyes steadfast on her face, his fingers pushing, rubbing. Lips brushed her neck, tasted her skin.
“Darkness,” he whispered. “Destructive darkness.” And he nipped at her neck.
The tightness exploded, gushing through her body. Limbs seized and back arched and all she could hear was his voice.
“Desolate. Dangerous,” he growled, still grinding his hand. “Yes, Aideen. My little fire…Aideen.”
She melted into the rust coverlet, body pliant yet shuddering.
Divine.
Lifting hazy eyes, she expected to see a smug expression on his face but instead saw a man possessed as he ripped at the fall on his breeches.
He didn’t remove them, just shoved the clothing down and nudged her legs wide. She’d felt lax and fulfilled but with his movements, his obvious and overwhelming need, her desire pulsed once more.
Bruising kisses and an abrading thumb at her breast caused her to arch yet again and with a satisfied grunt, he pressed forward, his arousal blunt and solid and thick, surging against her core – not tentative but persistent and adamant and not to be denied.
Gasping, she shoved hips against his, encircling his neck with eager arms, kissing his throat. He strained and she cried out at the sensation.
Unyielding. Stretched.
He reared, sank, took her mouth in a kiss once more and thrust. Deep and hard.
Lips stole her cry, a harsh pinch, but then…
“It’s so…tight,” she whispered against his mouth.
Rigidly shut eyes lifted and he groaned. “Hell, yes.”
“That’s not a good thing,” she stated, but Alex gently rocked his body back and forth, forth and back, face turning.
Clasping her leg, he pulled her thigh about his slender hip, so she did the same with the other and a growl rumbled from him as he slipped deeper, the fit eased, and he brushed something deliciously pleasurable.
“Alexander,” she murmured, and he twisted, eyes meeting hers.
