Page 146 of The Dueling Duchess

Cecile bucked her hips, desperate for more, deeper, harder.

“You want more?” he teased, his slitted eyes wicked and smug.

“Guy,” she bit out, the word both a warning and a plea.

He laughed and released her nipple with a sharp pinch.

Cecile whimpered at the loss of him.

“Don’t be greedy,” he murmured. “I need my other hand, but you’ve got two that are doing nothing. Play with yourself for me, darling.”

Cecile used both hands to pick up where he’d left off, pinching the aching buds far harder than he’d done, the line between pleasure and pain blurring.

“Bloody hell, that’s lovely,” he rasped, easing a second finger in beside the first. “So is this.” He used his newly liberated fingers to spread her lower lips and expose her to his hungry gaze. “Such a pretty little thing.”

Cecile moaned when he circled her sensitive nub, one hand teasing her with light caresses while the other worked her with increasingly powerful strokes.

She gloried in the sensation of being filled and stretched, grinding hard against his hand as she gorged on his muscular torso and the way his biceps bulged as he pleasured her.

“Yes, that’s my good girl,” he said, meeting her thrust for thrust. “Use me hard and make yourself come.”

His words were like the sharp prod of a whip and Cecile dropped her hands to the bed, bracing them beside his shoulders, taking his fingers deeper and harder, hurtling toward the brink of bliss all too quickly. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her body and she lost herself to sensation as Guy covered her face with butterfly kisses and whispered sweet nonsense in her ear. He soothed and caressed her back from her little death, his hips barely pulsing beneath her, his hard shaft rubbing against her lower belly.

“Put me inside,” he murmured.

Cecile reached between their damp bodies, closed her fingers around him, and grazed his sensitive crown with her thumbnail.

“Cecile!” he half shouted, half-groaned, his hips lifting her off the bed.

She laughed and struggled up onto her knees, using only one hand since the other was busy teasing.

“Witch,” he muttered, stilling while she positioned him at her opening.

“Now?” she asked.

“Please.”

Cecile wanted to make him beg, but she needed him too badly. “As you wish,” she said, slowly taking him inside her body, inch by delicious inch.

“God, yes!” He forced the words out through clenched jaws, holding her steady while his hips pumped into her with powerful, snapping thrusts, filling her completely with each savage stroke.

“You feel so good,” she murmured. “So big and hard.”

He gave a helpless-sounding laugh. “You’re trying to kill me.”

She laughed, riding him harder.

“Not . . . going . . . to . . . last.”

Cecile clenched her inner muscles, squeezing with all her might. A groan tore from his chest and he exploded in a flurry of savage thrusts before hilting himself deep, his body arching all the way off the bed, his shaft thickening and jerking with each jet of seed

“Love you so much,” he murmured groggily, his arms sliding around her waist and pulling her down, until they were chest-to-chest.

Cecile opened her mouth to tell him she felt the same, that she didn’t want to ever be without him again, but the words wouldn’t come.

Coward.

She was a coward, and it disgusted her.