Page 78 of The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke

“Thank heavens. Do you mind helping me with this last hook?” She emerged from the screen, her sun gold hair unbound, one hand at her back.

“Please,” he said. “Let me help.” His heart beat fiercely as they met in the center of the room. Then he pretended to struggle with the hook when his every impulse told him to tear the damn thing from its flimsy mooring.

“Be careful.” She angled her head to smile up at him. “The dress is delicate and—”

He placed both hands on her shoulders and ripped the silver tissue gown from her with a decisive tug. Her underapparel followed, the sound of rending silk punctuated by her indignant protests.

“That was my wedding gown, Adrian!”

“It’s not as if you’re going to wear it again,” he murmured, the excuse weak even to his own ears.

“What about our children?” she protested. “What if I had wished to pass that dress down to our future generations? Did you ever think that we might have a daughter one day?”

He smoothed his hands over her bare shoulders. “I have thought of nothing else.” He bent his head to hers. “And if we have a daughter, I hope she will be everything like you.”

“Adrian,” she whispered, bowing her head as his hands drifted down her sides to stroke her back. “I have always wanted children.”

He gave her a smile of understanding—far more understanding than she had anticipated. For before she realized what he was about, he’d lifted her into his arms and carried her to their bed.

“Give me dainty daughters who look just like their mother,” he said. “Give me sons. Give me you, Emma.”

She watched him strip off his clothing, unable to control the moisture seeping from her sex. When at last he leaned over her, she did not attempt to hide her approval of his nudity.

Disconcerted, she realized that not only was she staring at his impressive appendage, but that he understood exactly what had captured her interest. If her late husband had caught her peeping at his privates, he would have pulled off his neckcloth and promptly shielded his manly mysteries.

But Adrian, shameless adventurer and uninhibited devil that he was, merely stretched his muscular arms in languid satisfaction and arched his back, thereby thrusting himself out another few inches for her approval.

“My God, but those trousers were tight,” he murmured, one half-closed eye affixed on her face.

She moistened the corners of her mouth with her tongue. “I can understand why.

“Would you—” Her belly fluttered in pleasant confusion. “Would you like a neckcloth?” she asked innocently.

With a deep rumble of laughter, he pulled her against his hard, warm body. “To tie around my tadge?” he teased, leaning in for a slow, promising kiss. “Is there a protocol for such a thing?”

Her heart missed a beat. “I do not believe so.”

“That is a relief because”—he rubbed his turgid penis across her belly—“when it comes to certain issues of impoliteness—”

She turned her face into the pillow to smother a whimper, but any attempt to hide her rising excitement from her husband was futile. Her womb tightened in pleasure as he scattered kisses across her breasts. Heaven forgive her, but she was possessed to behave like a voluptuary of Venus. “If I am to tutor you in the ways of a gentleman,” she said with a heartfelt sigh, “then we shall have to start with an observation of your worst conduct.”

He grinned at the challenge. “Which, in my humble opinion, is when I am at my best.”

She struggled up onto one elbow, her breasts swollen from his ardent kisses. “Show me, so that we may begin to instruct you.”

He lifted his head to kiss her, swirling his tongue against hers. He ate delicately at her mouth until she was raking her fingers down the ridges of his back to his lean buttocks. “Your touch inflames me, Emma.”

“Then may I please—”

She did not finish, but it was evident he more than understood. His face darkened; he reared back to fulfill her need, his huge organ overflowing her small hand. A drop of pearlescent fluid bedewed her fingertips. An instinct she could not resist bade her to caress the thick head of his shaft.

He threw back his shoulders as if her delicate exploration had caused him pain, then demonstrated openly how he welcomed her touch by thrusting against her hand. Magnificent in his arousal, he arched his spine; in response she rose onto her knees to lay her face against his chest. “I have never craved a woman’s touch as I do yours, wife,” he said in a raw voice.

“Nor have I ever wished to touch a man in this way,” she whispered back. “But I tell you truly, if you do not proceed to make love to me this very moment, I—”

He gently grasped the soft hills of her bottom and contrived to force her back down beneath him, a position she eagerly assumed. Her sex throbbed unbearably. Her thighs opened in invitation to draw him inside her.

His hooded gaze traveled over her with a burning pleasure that acknowledged her offering. His muscular body hardened, hovering above hers. The sweet mystery of all that was male. Pure sexual power. Yet in submission she recognized strength.