Page 30 of The Duke of My Desire

He slumped in the chair, his body sated, at least for the moment. The intensity of his orgasm had shocked him and still sent little shudders throughout his body. He wasn’t entirely certain he had all the feeling back in his toes yet.

“I think you enjoyed that,” Justina said, licking her lips before giving him a smug smile. She rose to her feet and took his hands in hers, urging him to stand.

“I know I enjoyed that,” he countered. “In fact, I’m fairly certain I’ve never enjoyed anything more.”

“Good,” she said, tugging him to the bed. “I think you’ll enjoy what comes next, as well.”

She was teasing him, he knew, but his body didn’t care. His body heard the words, and the anticipation of what came next, of more pleasure shared with this incredible woman, of touching this incredible woman, was enough to make him harden all over again.

“You are wearing far too many clothes.” She sat on the edge of the mattress and pointed an imperious finger at him, her eyes twinkling. “Strip, Your Grace.”

With unsteady hands, Gregory quickly shed his coat and cravat and tossed them to the floor at his feet. His waistcoat and lawn shirt swiftly joined to the pile and then it was on to his trousers.

After he’d removed his boots and kicked off his trousers, he rose and looked at the gorgeous woman watching him, her gaze raking over his naked form.

“Can I touch you now?” he asked, his voice gruff with need. Because although he’d enjoyed the pleasures she’d given him, he hadn’t touched her yet and he was quite desperate to do so.

Justina held her hands out to him, inviting him to join her, and he had to force himself not to sprint to the bed. He didn’t want to rush this. He wanted to remember this, every single moment with her, for as long as he was on this earth.

“God, you’re lovely,” he murmured, taking in every inch of soft, creamy skin before him. “The loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

She spread her thighs wide and drew him into the V between her legs.

“Touch me, Gregory.”

Her whispered plea, so urgent, so taut, sent a hot surge of lust through his body. Gently, he cupped her breasts, a low groan escaping him even as she whimpered. Her skin was just as soft as he knew it would be, the supple flesh filling his hands as if meant for him and him alone.

He grazed her nipples with his thumbs and she gasped, a shudder running through her body. On instinct, he leaned down and took one tight bud in his mouth, tasting the salt of her skin.

Her hands shot to his head, and she arched her back, tugging on his hair.

He shifted to give the same attention to her other breast, loving her with his lips and tongue, and every moan and whimper she gave him was a stroke to his pride and his cock.

“I could do this all afternoon,” he murmured, kissing the hollow between her breasts.

“I would have no objection to that,” she said, “if not for the other places begging for their turn.”

He drew back to meet her gaze and found her watching him with a teasing smile. “My cunny is wet and aching for your cock,” she said, the wicked words a shock to his brain.

His gaze fell to her quim, plump and pink and glistening.

“Touch me,” she urged, widening her thighs as she guided his hand between their bodies to her most intimate flesh. He stroked her with two fingers, tentative in his exploration, and the feel of her, so hot and wet, made him groan aloud.

“Is this all right?” he asked huskily, the urge to plunge inside her with something besides his fingers nearly overwhelming his self-control.

She hummed her approval. “You have wonderful hands.” Then she placed her own hand over his and guided his middle finger inside her sheath before easing it free and stroking the slickened pad over the small nub at the opening to her slit.

Her eyes fell closed and a breath hissed through her teeth as she stroked herself again with his finger, showing him how she liked to be touched.

“Like that,” she murmured. “Exactly like that.”

He continued stroking her, his gaze locked on her face to gauge her reaction to his inexpert touch. Her lips were parted, her eyes closed as she rocked her hips into his hand.

“I want to taste you,” he said. “Would you welcome that?”

He’d certainly welcomed it when she’d taken him in her mouth, but he had no idea if she would enjoy the same from him.

“Returning the favor?” she asked with an arched brow. “You don’t owe me anything, Gregory.”