Page 22 of Misadventures with a Duke

“Magique. This is such…it is so…”

But then my aroused haze spreads, taking over my mind. Words are impossible. I am choked and fevered. Caged but set free. Milked to the point of madness.

The best insanity I shall ever know.

Especially when she rolls her soft fingers across the sac at my base.

In an instant, I am broken down. And then broken out.

My liquid heat flows up. Explodes out. Drenches and fills the scorching cave of her mouth. But she does not let go, clamping my shuddering head with the back of her throat. I splay a hand against her head, keeping her in place. It’s one of the happiest moments of my existence but one of the most despairing. Surely every drop of my seed must be leaving my body. All the De Leon heirs will have to come from my brother.

A price I shall joyously pay.

A joy that blossoms wider as soon as my woman raises up.

“You are still here,” I say, treasuring it as fact. Only now do I recognize the trepidation at the back of my mind, nursing the fear that my physical finish would make this all vanish. But it is all the same. This warm cocoon of a room. This silken vision of a woman. Heaven after all.

One corner of her mouth hitches up. “And so are you.”

“That perplexes you?” I grunt good-naturedly. “Ah, of course it does. An angelic life was hardly ever my ultimate goal.”

“Worthy of celebration.” Her tone does not commit that as complete humor, though certainly she is not serious. I transfer that curiosity to a slight scowl, which she addresses with haste. “Angels are only my thing if they bring their wings with extra garlic and a side of chipotle coleslaw.”

A slight frown crawls across my brow. How long has she truly been in this realm? All these things I have never heard her say before…and meanings I can only guess at…

But even guesses elude my mind from the moment she reaches and palms my balls again.

I groan in stunned ecstasy, savoring how it sounds with Magique’s sighs peppered in. Somehow, I raise my head enough to rake her anew with my gaze. The hoods that drop over her precious greens. The stiffness that claims her ruby nipples. The dewdrops that glisten between her gently parted legs.

Oh, oui. Most importantly, that.

A brief mewl spills from her once I rivet my stare down there. “More,” I command, showing her my need by dragging my fist up my cock. “I need to see more. Spread yourself, little lily.”

Incroyable, how she affects me. How much pleasure I have, returning so fast. I am even stiffer as she complies, revealing her wet, pink mysteries to me.

I lose my hand over the purple bulb of my crown. It is hot and hard, hating and adoring me at once. But I do not look away from her decadent cunt. The utter artwork of it.

“Holy hell. Look what you do to me, ma magie.”

Her hips jerk. More drops appear between her legs, collecting along her beckoning slit. “Look what you do to me, Bastien De Leon.”

“Most assuredly,” I rasp. “But now I want to see.” I am prepared for the question in her eyes—and ready with an answer. “Spread all of your petals now. And then touch them. And fuck into them.”

A nervous swipe of her tongue along her lips, which pumps even more blood up my cock.

“Was I unclear, woman?”

“No. No. I just—”

“What?”

“If I do it, I’ll come.”

“Well, then…you had best hasten about it.”

RAEGAN

Orgasms and I have been good friends for a long time. Whether I should send a thank-you note to my free-spirited parents or the original Gossip Girl producers, I still have no idea. The conflict is especially acute as I frown at the clock on my drawing pad, indicating I’m wide awake at six on a Sunday morning because my bloodstream is still sizzling from the climax I rubbed out in front of Bastien De Leon. And then the next one, given with his own fingers, before he exploded for me again too.