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She’d never done anything like this, but she wantedit. Wanted to follow his directions. And so she did as he told her, holding him tight to her, where his tongue worked in glorious rhythm, back and forth, again and again as she rocked against him, gasping, holding back her screams, chasing that glorious pleasure that was just out of reach.
“Please,” she whispered to him. To the universe. “I can’t... please.”
And then, the whole world was moving. No—she was moving.Hewas moving, releasing her—no.No.What was he doing? Why was he stopping?
She clung to him as he lifted her from the chair. “What—”
“You’ll like it better, beautiful.”
Beautiful.What a lovely word. What a lovely name.
Before she could correct him, either in her head or aloud, she was falling backward to the bed, and he was following her down, pressing her thighs wide to the counterpane. Pressing a little kiss to the aching nub at her core. Giving it a little suck, drawing a tiny cry from her. “Better, yes?”
She met his eyes, glittering with pleasure. “No. Worse.”
A slight furrow of his brow. “Worse?”
She nodded, not understanding what had come over her. “You stopped.”
“Ah,” he said, understanding dawning. “Terrible, that.”
That hint of a smile was back, and she stroked her thumb over the corner of his handsome mouth. “I like that.”
He nipped at the flesh of her thumb, running his tongue over it until she shivered in his arms. “My mouth? I could tell.”
She gave a little laugh. “No. Your smile. It’s so rare. It feels precious.”
It disappeared and she regretted her words instantly.
“Shall I tell you what is rare and precious?”
The heat of the question was undeniable. “Please.”
“This,” he said, stroking over her again, setting her instantly on fire once more as he found the place where every nerve in her body seemed to end. He circled it once, twice, and spoke to it. “Soft and wet...” She made a little noise and rocked her hips against him. “And so responsive.” He leaned in and licked her, licking over the bud he’d been tempting. Stopped again. “You taste like summer. Like heat and heaven... and sin.” Another suck. Another long lick, rubbing over her until she grabbed his hair. “And when you ride me...” She closed her eyes at the words, so filthy in his grand voice. “It makes me want you to ride me in every way. Until you’ve come.”
Before she could answer, as the words spread hot fire through her, he pressed her wide with two fingers and leaned in, licking and sucking, stroking in hard, firm, tight circles, giving her no quarter. She didn’t have to tell him not to stop now—he wasn’t going to. Didn’t have to tell him what she liked—he knew. Somehow, he knew her body better than she did now, and when it trembled against him, out of her control, it remained in his—his hands dominating it, controlling it, stroking over her skin, soothing it, leaving pleasure and praise everywhere he touched.
Adelaide cried his name and a dozen other nonsensical things as he devoured her, unrelentingly, until she flew apart, and came, shattering beneath his caress, and the urgent, coaxing, delicious sounds he growled at her core. And when she’d come, hard and fast, he stayed there, his tongue flat against her as she quivered against him, lacking breath and restraint, everything disappeared but him and his touch, returning her to earth.
And then Henry climbed up her body, tucking himself between her legs, pressing his hard length where sheneeded his touch, knowing somehow that she still ached for him, the rough fabric of his trousers the only thing keeping him from being inside her. He rolled his hips against her, slow and sinful. “You beautiful thing. Touch like fire. Hair like fire. Threatening to burn me up,” he whispered. “Where have you been?”
Nowhere.The word whispered through her, and she bit her lip to stop herself from speaking it, even though—in that moment, as he pressed himself along her body, capturing her cheek in one hand and licking into her mouth in a devastating, deep kiss that tasted of her pleasure and somehow of his—she felt as though she’d been remade.
A different Adelaide. One she did not know. One fashioned by pleasure.
One who was not on her own.
And in the realization, Adelaide was consumed simultaneously by fear and by something far worse. Something like hope. Something that made her wonder what it would be to believe him when he ended the kiss and caught her face in both palms, staring down at her as though she were something to be looked at. Something to notice. Something to treasure.
As though there was more between them than this moment. This place. This night.
Which there wasn’t.
She was Adelaide Frampton, baseborn thief from the wrong side of the river, more comfortable in dark alleys than in gilded ballrooms. And he was a damn duke.
Get your head on right, gel.The voice that whispered came with the clipped accent of the South Bank—the one she had worked so hard to hide in the last few years.
She resolved to listen, reaching for him, pulling him close for a kiss of her own, claiming him in the hopes that she might regain control of herself. Of the situation. Of whatever was to come. Telling herself that the straight shot of pleasure she got when he gave himselfover to her was about that—control—and not about the joy that came with knowing she could affect him as he had her.
