Page 75 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

She felt his hands, palms flat, roam her body as Brandon slid them up. He cupped her breasts gently, as if weighing them, feeling them. She was past shame and arched into his touch. Then he used both thumbs to tease, circling them.

“Brandon!”

“You say my name so beautifully when I touch you like this,” he murmured in her ear.

Her nipples pebbled even more under his voice, becoming more sensitive. A sound escaped her mouth, soft and pleased and surprised at the same time. She could feel the soft fabric of his clothes against her naked flesh. One soft kiss on her shoulder and another flick from his thumbs, and she almost collapsed.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he teased her.

His right hand slid down over her rib cage to the dip of her waist to the roundness of her hip. She awakened, gooseflesh everywhere he touched. He gripped her by the hips and pulled her against him.

“Feel that?” he growled into her ear. “Feel what you do to me?”

The hand she had on his thigh dug into his flesh. She could feel him, all of his arousal pressing against her lower back. A gasp escaped her, as if she was desiring to touch him there, but she was also unable to move.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed. “You are doing so well, Marigold. Let me give you a little reward.”

He slid his hands between her legs. She shamelessly knew that she was already wet, and his low hum resonated against her skin as his fingers found the evidence of her desire.

“Look at you, already so wet for me,” he murmured approvingly. “Do you need me to touch you?”

Her body instinctively arched toward him. Need did not even begin to describe what she felt in this moment. His other hand pinched her nipple right on the verge of pain and pleasure.

“What have I told you about answering me?” he warned her. “Do you need me to touch you, Marigold?”

“Yes, please, please touch me,” Marigold begged.

“There you are,” he triumphed as he licked behind her ear.

His fingers parted her folds, and she shuddered, feeling all of it at once: his sting on her skin, his hand on her breast, and the other finding that small nub at the center.

Her hips bucked, reaching for something she knew she needed more than breath, as her inner walls clenched around nothing, almost lamenting the emptiness.

“Please,” Marigold whispered, not even knowing what she was asking for.

“You sound so sweet begging me,” he growled. “Let me see if I can make you beg for more.”

Without warning, he slid one finger inside her, slowly, carefully, and yet undeniably. She immediately tightened around him and cried out.

“Do you like this?” he demanded.

“I do,” Marigold answered promptly this time.

“Let me see if you can take more,” Brandon said. “Do you think you can take more?”

She felt his finger going in and out of her slowly, reverently, just unlocking something that she didn’t even understand.

“Yes, I can,” she decided. “Give me more.”

“That’s my good girl,” he breathed in her ear.

He added another finger very slowly, stretching her core gently, making her used to this sensation. It was intrusive at first, her body clenching at the strange sensation. Marigold felt as if she was losing the earth under her feet, and she grabbed onto his forearm with both hands, not to stop him but just to anchor herself because she was feeling as if she was going to float away. And she really enjoyed being where she was.

Even when he chuckled in her ear, she didn’t mind. Not even when he moved his fingers slowly in and out. Even once she felt the burn of the stretch. And she was rewarded for that persistence because as he moved, making her gasp for breath as he entered her again, and again, she felt it.

Little by little, that sharp burn was replaced. It became minor discomfort as her pleasure rose inside her. She felt her core flutter, his moves managing to rub against her just the right way.

“Does this feel good, Marigold?”