Page 62 of How to Capture a Duke

She parted her lips in a gasp of surprise. He took possession of her mouth, sucked and licked, and she tasted him with an equal need that matched his own.

“Take off your shirt,” she demanded.

He gladly obliged and tugged the shirt over his head and tossed it to the carpet. He reveled in the way her gaze traveled over his chest, his arms, and lower still—to the bulge in his trousers. With fearlessness, she reached for the placket of his trousers.

His hand covered hers. “Not yet.”

He gathered her in his arms, lowered her onto the bed, then spread her golden tresses across his pillow.

Mine.

This was where she belonged. In his bed. In his life. He inwardly shook his head. No, he mustn’t think that way. He could only think of tonight. Of giving and receiving pleasure. His greedy gaze watched her. “You are breathtakingly lovely.”

He suckled one breast, taking the nipple deep into his mouth.

Her gasp fueled his desire. “Oh my.”

“Tell me what you feel. T…t-tell me.” He wanted her to tell him everything. Her likes. Her dislikes. What drove her passion?

“It’s wondrous. And when you touch me here,” she said, her hand grazing her breast, “it travels like liquid fire through my body.”

“Where else?”

She took his hand and placed it between her thighs. His cock grew even harder in his trousers. Never before had he desired a woman so badly. He returned his attention to her breasts, worshiping first one and then the other until she was writhing beneath him. He parted her feminine folds with infinite gentleness. She looked at him as he slowly traced her folds then dipped the tip of a finger inside her. She shivered, and her lashes fluttered.

“Look at me.”

She opened her eyes, her lips parting.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“It feels wonderful.”

He stroked again.

“You know, don’t you?” she asked. “Oh, you must know.”

“Nothing matters but you.” His finger slipped inside a bit more, and she closed her eyes again, but her moan told him. “I want to taste you here. Does that shock you?”

“I…I do not know.”

Another stroke. Another throaty sigh. A quivering of her hips to meet his stroking fingers.

Beautiful. Fearless. With great force of will, he gritted his teeth and tamped down on his desire.

Tonight would be for her.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Tristan’s words made Olivia quiver even more than what he was doing to her body, making her feel. She moaned at the delicious pleasure of his fingers, his wicked, skilled fingers that knew just where to stroke, just how much pressure she needed.

Her thoughts shattered when he took a nipple between his lips, dragging his tongue and the smallest scrape of his teeth over the sensitive peak. She arched toward him, and he suckled with a groan.

He turned his attention to the other and muttered, “Like delicious strawberries. Sweet and plump. Impossible to resist.”

He kissed and licked a searing path down her body all the while, murmuring, “So lovely.”

She felt beautiful. And then he reached the apex of her thighs. Sweet Heaven. It took all her effort not to thrust upward, her need was so great. He parted her slick folds, his thumb pressing, and dipped a finger inside her.