Page 76 of How to Tempt a Duke

He pulled off his boots and stockings while the strength of his arms flexed and bunched in the most fascinating of ways, powerful muscle working under firm flesh with each movement. He worked at the buttons of his breeches, where the thick column of his shaft showed under the fine fabric.

She made a little sound in her throat before she could stop herself. She’d thought of this for far longer than any respectable girl ought to have. The memory of what his fingers could do mingled with the lurid tales from the journal, swirling into hot lust in her mind.

He pulled the loosened breeches from his narrow hips and stood before her in his full, powerful glory, the proof of his need jutting toward her.

No sooner had she begun to admire him than he drew her into his arms, his warm skin on hers and his shaft pressed hot against her belly. The hair on his chest scratched pleasantly against her nipples and Eleanor’s pulse fluttered with erratic, wild beats.

For this time there was no innocence to protect, no barriers to keep them apart. There would be no stopping until all her curiosities had been thoroughly sated.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Charles held his wife against him, skin to skin, pounding heart to pounding heart, and knew there was no place in all the world he’d rather be. Every inch of Eleanor was wonderfully silky and supple, and her mouth was eager beneath his.

Her legs parted around his thigh and he knew all too well what it was that she wanted. He skimmed his fingers over her inner thighs and reveled in the eager intake of her breath. He found the wet heat between her legs and slid the pad of his middle finger over her core until he reached the little bud. Her hips twitched upward reflexively and she gave a sigh of pleasure.

Charles bit back a groan and his shaft flexed against her. At this point the greatest feat of his life would be remaining in control and not throwing himself upon her as he so desperately wanted to.

He continued to stroke, teasing the little knot of her desire. He carefully dipped his finger inside her, fearful of causing her discomfort. She was impossibly tight, slick with wet heat and promise. Charles gave a long, low groan of anticipation.

Eleanor gave a breathless cry and swayed slightly. “Yes...” she whispered. “Please. More of that.”

His manhood lurched. There was not much more that Charles could take. He needed her on the mattress, spread before him. He wanted to touch her, tease her, ready her. Taste her.

He caught her parted legs and spread them over his waist, lifting her in order to carry her to the bed. She moaned and ground her body against his. The heat of her rubbed over the length of his shaft and the decadence of such temptation was so much that he damn near dropped her.

He clutched her to him, carrying her the few feet to the four-poster, where he lay her down on the firm mattress and bent over her. She did not uncurl her legs from his waist. She locked her heels against his buttocks and continued to grind against him with a frustrated craving that readily echoed in the ache of his tight balls.

God, but she was a sweet enticement. It would be so easy to shift his shaft against her and glide in. The very idea made his nerves jangle with insistence.

But when he did finally take her there would be a virgin’s pain. He had to be gentle, careful. Slow.

She panted against his mouth and let her touch wander over him with abandon, hot hands making an exploration that damn near drove him mad. Over his naked back, across his chest, raking over his nipples before driving down his stomach.

He’d managed to kiss her throat on his path to her nipple, when her fingers curled around his shaft. His world stopped and his mind plunged into utter blankness, forgoing any thought but the excruciating pleasure radiating through him.

“Will you teach me?” she asked, her voice low. “To pleasure you? To take you in my mouth?”

She sat up slightly and regarded him. Her carefully crafted coiffure had become mussed and several long tendrils spilled down her shoulders.

She pursed her reddened lips. “Like in the journals. It seemed to bring the author great pleasure. And if it brings you pleasure I’d like to try.”

Charles swallowed. “Eleanor...”

She slid out from underneath him and off the bed, so she stood at its side. Charles turned to watch her, still too damn stunned to come up with a polite answer.

She was his wife.

And yet the idea of her hot mouth surrounding his shaft...

With careful precision she pulled the pins from her hair and let them plop to the thick carpet one by one, until the glory of her red hair spilled down her shoulders and breasts like she was some mythical mermaid. She bent over him and kissed him, her tongue expertly finding his. Her breasts arched to his chest and she whimpered against his lips.

His body lit with wanting immediately, insistent and demanding. Her fingers brushed over the head of his shaft and a groan tore from his throat. She explored him, touching, stroking, cupping. His world was pinpointed on the the sheer pleasure of it all, where it radiated out from his shaft and coursed through him.

“Teach me to take you in my mouth.”

She looked up at him with an expression both sultry and imploring. To hear his wife speak so intimately, and with such base words, drove him absolutely mad with wanting.

“You’ll need to get on your knees,” he heard himself say.