“I do not see how he could believe that, given he doesn’t particularly like animals.”
“What do you mean?” As Clara described the previous day’s encounter with the duke and Pockets, Michael watched her face, concern building within about what life with the Duke of Wykeham would be like for her. “You think he would be cruel?”
“If not cruel, then... indifferent. Neglectful.”
Michael had seen at Robert’s new estate the detailed results of indifference and neglect. There were many layers of cruelty available to the human existence. And a new understanding settled over him—all the more bothersome than anything else he knew about the Duke of Wykeham. He urged Clara to sit on the bed. “That explains some of the other rumblings I have heard through the Jockey Club.”
Her face lit with amusement. “Do you mean to tell me that men gossip? Horrors!”
He grinned. “We make women look like amateurs, my dear.” He slid his hand into her hair, dislodging the last combs and pins from the style. As they dropped to the bed, he plucked them up, one at a time, and placed them on a table near the bed. “The word is that the duke is determined to win you because he sees you as his saving grace.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Michael paused, grasped her hands, and brought them to his lips. He kissed each finger, then pulled the index finger of her left hand into his mouth, sucking gently as he focused on her eyes. A sweet, light blush spread over her cheeks and neck, and her lips parted. “Like me,” he whispered, “he sees a woman worth far more than Society has ever acknowledged, with more potential than they have allowed you to have. Unlike me, he does not recognize your beauty”—he kissed the tender skin on the inside of her wrist—“nor has he fallen so completely in love with you.”
He cupped her face with his hands, brushing her temples with his thumbs, as he kissed her. She whimpered and clutched his shoulders, the heat of her hands through his shirt sending a spear of desire through him. His cock swelled, pushing against his clothes. Her mouth opened, and his tongue explored with fervor and a growing passion. He eased her back on the bed, and their kiss broke as he lay beside her.
“My dress—” she gasped.
“There is no time. But let me show you—” He kissed her again, tugging at her lower lip as he cupped one breast through the stays and cloth of her gown. Michael let his kisses drift downward, over her neck and across the bare mounds above her décolletage. As her breaths became deeper, heavier with her arousal, he paused briefly to admire the perfect shape of that luscious flesh. He ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of her neckline, and she whispered his name as her back arched. “Do you want more?”
“Yes!”
Michael shifted to kneel beside her, tucked his hands beneath her shoulders, and slid her upward on the bed. He fanned her hair out over one pillow, running his hands through the riotous curls. Then he stood and slipped out of the rest of his clothes, his cock standing almost fully erect.
Clara gazed at him, a wicked grin on her face. “I definitely want more.”
He laughed. “Minx.”
“Without a doubt.”
Grinning, he pulled one of the pillows from the stack near the head of the bed and knelt next to Clara’s hips.
She pushed up on her elbows. “What are you doing?”
Michael could not keep the glee from his voice. “You will see. Now lie back.”
She did, and he lifted her arse with one hand, sliding the pillow underneath her. With her pelvis now tilted upward, he slid even lower in the bed, his face near her knees. Reaching down, he pushed the slippers from her feet, pulled up her skirt and chemise, spread her legs, and rolled to lie between them.
Clara giggled, pushing up. “Michael, what—”
“Shh. I’m exploring. Now lie back, before I tie you to the headboard again.”
“That isnota threat.”
God, he loved this woman. “I will keep that in mind.”
He lifted one leg and began at the ankle, his fingers tracing up and down her calf, kisses and light nips of his teeth following them. Her stockings were silk, tied with a blue garter, and his tongue made small circles on the bare skin above it. With a sigh, Clara sank back against the pillow, her fingers curling into the sheets near her side. As he moved up her thigh, the nips became a bit harder, and the scent of her arousal bloomed around him. He found the slit in her drawers, not at all surprised that her curls and the silk were damp, the lips of her sex swollen and a lovely rosy pink.
Michael spread the slit wider, annoyed somewhat when it ripped at the top and bottom seam.I used to be better than this.But the extra room only set his senses alight as he found her entrance with two fingers and pressed in. She was abundantly wet, the fluid coating his hand and fingers. Clara gasped, arching, as he made several hard thrusts with his hand, the heel of it grinding on the swollen bud at the top. He watched her as he did, thrilled to see the blush on her chest deepen and spread. She bucked against him, riding his hand as her climax neared.
He withdrew his hand, shifted, and placed the tip of his cock against her. She whimpered. “More?” he asked, drawing it up and down, spreading her moisture over both of them. Clara nodded frantically, and he pushed into her, one hard thrust that put him all the way in.
*
Clara could notbreathe.
She tried, but between her stays, Michael’s weight, and the ecstasy that seemed to freeze her in place, no air moved. Waves of intense pleasure had swamped her, carrying her to the brink, again and again, but never quite over. Now, with his cock deep inside, she soared closer again, her hips seeming to respond of their own accord. More.
