Page 95 of A Duchess with a Secret
I’m speechless, my body taut with anticipation. Every nerve is on fire, every sense heightened. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I want this.
I push my pants and boxers down, step out, and kick them aside. My cock juts, hard and ready. Her lips part as she ogles me. My breath catches. I’m dying for her touch.
“I’ll never tire of this sight,” she murmurs, her voice husky and her gaze reverent.
And then, her fingers curl around my cock. She moves closer and gives it a long, lazy lick from balls to the tip. The sensation sends shockwaves through me. I grip the edge of the desk for support.
“Fuck,” I rasp. “That was incredible.”
“Good,” she says, a flicker of triumph in her eyes.
I half expect her to stop. This was a token gesture, proof to herself and to me that she’s free of old ghosts, that Geoffroy doesn’t own her anymore, and that his shadow no longer determines how she makes love.
But she doesn’t stop. She closes her mouth around the crown.
My body jolts, every muscle taut, every nerve ending alive. She goes slow at first, testing, tasting. Her tongue explores the ridge beneath the head with delicate flicks. Her lips are warm velvet around me. Then she grows bolder, more confident. She takes me deeper with each descent. Her fingers wrap around what she can’t swallow.
The heat of her throat, the wet slide, the sheer devotion with which she sucks me—it’s more than I can manage without losing control.
I clench my jaw, fighting to hold on. “If you keep going, I’ll come.”
Her rhythm builds in response. She works me with her lips and tongue, and the gentlest edge of her teeth. My composure tears apart. The restraint I pride myself on is gone. All I can do is give in to her, every nerve lit, every thought consumed.
When release crashes through me, it’s violent, and exquisite. I gasp her name. My hand tangles in her hair, fingers splayed at her nape, anchoring her against me as my hips buck. My grip isn’t firm. She can pull away easily if she finds it too much.
Again, she stays.
She keeps her lips sealed around me through every shudder, every groan, every squirt—until I’m completely spent.
It takes a long moment before I can see clearly. When I do, she’s gazing up at me. Her face is flushed. Her lips glisten. Her eyes shine with pride.
I can’t stop staring at her. Words feel clumsy. Anything I could say seems too weak, too inadequate.
But one word slips out, raw and unfiltered. “Mine.”
The second it’s spoken, panic slams through me.
What have I done?
Eva will hear it as me wanting to shackle and control her, the very thing she swore she’d never endure again.
She rises.
“Yours,” she says, her breath warm against my lips. “And you’re mine.”
The tension breaks.
I draw her close, as close as physics will let me. “Body and soul, Eva. Until my heart stops.”
The End
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