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Down Bad with the Iron Duke

Page 128

by Lizzie C. Koz

52

Theo

Theo was on him before her front door had even clicked shut.

Rafe laughed against her mouth, and she couldn’t help but smile too. He was home. God, how she’d missed him.

And he was home for good.

They fought with their garments as they stumbled out of the entry into the main living space.

“How are you feeling?” Her words were muffled against his mouth. “Thigh? Arm?”

Her lawn shirt was yanked from her trousers, and they broke apart so she could tear it over her head as he did the same with his.

“Perfectly fine. But there are other parts of me in pain, Miss Dawson.”

She tugged him to her by the waistband of his trousers, mouth crashing into his. “Oh, really?”

He swallowed her words, tongue diving into her mouth for a breath-stealing kiss. His hips ground against hers, making no mistake as to what was paining him.

He pulled away, dragging open-mouthed kisses over her jaw to her neck. His growl was a hot, heady vibration over her skin, sending a wave of gooseflesh rising in its wake. “I ache for you so badly,” he said huskily. “To be deep inside you. To watch as that pretty, deep flush makes its way down your body. Suck on those sweet, pert nipples.”

She whimpered and tore at her trousers. “We need to move faster.”

“As my lady wishes.” He sent her a wicked smile, then lifted her off her feet and planted her arse on the top of her worktable.

She gripped the edge tightly, abs clenching to brace herself, as he yanked her trousers down her legs. They flew somewhere behind him. He moved to her stays, and she growled at him. “Not enough time. Forget the stays. Just get in me.”

He slowed. “But your nipples.” He stared longingly at the tops of her breasts.

“You can suck them later! Raphael Charles Sinclair, get your bloody cock out. Now.”

He shoved his trousers down, and in the next moment, their matching groans filled her living room as he sank straight to the hilt.

She clutched him to her, both of them still except for their chaotic heartbeats and panting breaths. This. This was what she needed. To be as close as physically possible to him. Their matched desperation for each other thrumming through their bodies. His hands slid down her back until he cupped her arse, pulling her even closer.

His head was buried in her neck as they slowly rocked together. Barely moving. Gentle friction over the apex of her thighs, his cock stretching her impossibly wide, rubbing against that spot deep inside of her that had gentle waves of bliss lapping over her. Her fingertips dug into his back, the pressure coiling tighter between her thighs as they slowly ground against each other.

“You feel like heaven.” His muffled words were lost in her skin.

His lips followed their path, kissing and sucking up her neck. His tongue swirled, and she squirmed as that movement echoed between her legs. His hips jerked in the smallest of thrusts. Her head tipped back, her moan caught in her throat. Oh, that was lovely.

“More of that,” she begged.

He did it again and then stilled, muscles going whipcord tight. She understood. It’d been too long. She’d missed him too much. This wasn’t going to be something slow, something they savored.

“I need hard and fast, Rafe. I need to feel you.” For days.

He nodded, the same desperate need written all over his face. He pressed a hard kiss to her lips, then carefully lowered her until she was flat on her worktable. He gripped her thighs. And yanked her to him, her arse now lifted off the table.

His fingers dug into her hips, and he drove into her hard, shoving her up the wood table. Her back bowed, her nerves lighting up.

“Again.”

He did. And he didn’t stop. Drove into her over and over, the table rocking precariously beneath her. And with every thrust, her body sang. She pulsed around him, his shaft dragging along every part of her so perfectly. She let her knees fall apart, put her full faith in his hands holding her as he filled her. Harder. Deeper. Cries tore from her, mixed with his whimpered growls. And there was nothing more lovely than the sound of him losing himself. Because of her.

“Theo.” Her name was a hoarse plea. “I can’t.”