Page 60 of Duke with a Deception
King gave her a wicked grin. “Getting on my knees where you would have me. Hold your skirts up for me, angel.”
She grasped the silk and cotton of her skirt, petticoat, and chemise, the cool lick of air on her stocking legs reminding her just how much of herself was on display. If one of the servants walked in, they would be shocked to find the duchess perched on the duke’s desk, skirts rucked up like a doxy’s.
“Now, open for me,” he urged, already sinking to the Axminster.
She did as he asked, parting her thighs, and revealing herself to him. The cool air kissed the heated skin of her most private place. Awareness sluiced over her, mingling with the thrill of being wicked, the knowledge that they could be caught.
They wouldn’t be, of course. The servants all knew better than to open a closed door without knocking first. But that knowledge didn’t serve to lessen the need running through her veins or to quell her barely leashed excitement.
“Wider,” he demanded. “Your damned drawers are hiding you from me.”
She slid her thighs farther apart on the desk as he asked. “Like this?”
His gaze was so dark it was almost black, glued to the center of her, as if she were the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld. “Exactly like that. You’re wet for me already, aren’t you, my love? Your cunny is so pretty, so perfect. I could lick you all day.”
Her fingers tightened on her skirts, her entire body heavy with longing. She could feel her inner walls clenching already, preparing for him.
She licked her lips, trying to be patient, to distract her mind to keep from launching herself at him in most unladylike fashion. “You might grow tired.”
“Never,” he said with such utter conviction that she believed him. “I want you to watch me pleasure you.”
He didn’t wait for her response. Instead, he lowered his head until it was between her parted thighs. She did as he asked, struggling to see past the fistfuls of fabric she held neatly trapped, and saw his tongue flick over her.
Her hips jerked. No matter how many times they made love, she would never grow tired of the sensation of his mouth on her, his tongue teasing and tasting her, bringing her to swelling crescendos of unimaginable bliss. Verity’s eyes fluttered closed.
His mouth left her. “Eyes open, angel. See who makes you come.”
“I already know,” she murmured impatiently, but she opened them anyway, desperate for him to finish what he had begun.
She met his stare and he set to work once more, licking and sucking her with a lusty abandon that had her gasping and writhing on the desk until she nearly slid off its smooth, hard top. His big hands caught her, gently pushing her back into place, and then two long fingers slicked through her folds, finding her entrance and sinking inside. She moaned at the sensation, and he lapped at her clitoris with light strokes, pumping in and out of her and hooking his fingers to find a place deep within that brought her swiftly to her pinnacle.
“King,” she cried out as wave after wave undulated through her, almost violently at first and then with gradually lessening strength.
She lost her grip on her skirts, and they fell over him, leaving him beneath them and out of sight. But he didn’t stop his sensual torture, suckling her clitoris now as his fingers pumped, then replacing them with his tongue. He licked into her with wild abandon, the wet heat of his tongue thrusting in and out over already highly sensitized flesh. She was on the edge again, that same tightness building deep within her, this time far more quickly. She held her breath as he toyed with her bud, groaning from beneath her skirts. It scarcely took any effort, and she was flying, the pleasure as sudden and feverish as it had been the first time.
Verity was certain her bones had turned to aspic. She was collapsed on the desk, struggling to catch her breath, when King emerged from beneath her fallen skirts, his sensual lips dark and slick with her desire. His customarily perfectly coifed hair was ruffled, long dark strands falling over his brow. The raw hungerin his expression filled her with fire. How fortunate she was to have this beautiful man, so undone for her. So in love with her.
How fortunate that he was forever hers.
He shot to his feet and pressed against her, her skirts billowing out around his long legs. “I want you desperately, but I don’t think I can wait to get you to my bed.”
“Then take me now,” she invited, caressing his jaw and loving how the sharp prickles of his whiskers were already making themselves known, when his valet had only shaved him hours before.
“Angel.” He kissed her swiftly, then lifted his head. “I don’t deserve you.”
A sweet warmth pierced her. “Yes, my love. You do.”
He kissed her again and took her hand in his, guiding it to the rigid length straining against the placket of his trousers. “Feel how much I want you. How much I need you. You’re like a poison in my blood. I think about you all day long, and I dream about you all night.”
“Poison?” She kissed him. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
But she did like that she consumed his thoughts. For he consumed hers as well.
She also liked the way he felt beneath her hand, thick and demanding. Her core ached in response. She needed him desperately.
“A good poison,” he murmured into the kiss. “One that gives me life instead of killing me.”
Verity found the fastening on his falls and plucked them open. Their breaths mingled, their lips grazing. She gripped his shoulder with one hand for support as his cock sprang free, hard and hot and ready. She ached to have him inside her.
