Page 86 of Misadventures with a Duke

I don’t ask him what it means. I already know. His eyes are stark and unblinking from one obvious force. Fear.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Do not do it again.”

I lift my other hand to his face. As his breath audibly snags, so does mine.

And it’s happening again…already.

The embrace of our intentions…already.

The stitching of our souls…already.

“Then give me a good reason not to.”

Still no breath out of him. I see the oxygen being used in another way. The blazes in his gaze are stoked high enough to set the city on fire and me with it. Oh God, I hope so. This is where I need to be. Where we need to stay. The place that’s not so scary. The place with so much fire and thirst and lust, it burns away all the confusion and trepidation.

But I can’t do it alone. I need his combustion too. He’s starting to get it but still isn’t sure, so I take him tighter in my hands and pull hard.

Our lips touch but don’t kiss. I won’t give him that yet. I refuse. He needs my words first.

“Bastien.” A caress of breath. A fast press at the corner of his mouth. “Please. Give me…the reason.” And then a lick along his lower lip until I can bite into his opposite corner. “Maybe…a lot of them.”

His exhalation is heavy but ragged. His hand, feeling beneath my crinolines for my thigh, is steadier. Thank all of his obscure saints.

“Ma magnifique,” he husks. “Dieu aide moi, I cannot refuse you…even now.” He leans over me with ease, and I thank those saints again for the accessibility of the wide leather chair into which he has placed me.

Where exactly has he placed me? But why do I even care?

“Ah!” he exclaims once his fingers find their way to my naked center. “Especially now.”

No. I really don’t care where we are.

Not as his shoulders flex as he strokes me down there.

Not as his jawline tautens until it could feel like a private gift box in my grip.

Especially not as he dips and then twists his touch, entering me with a swoop of long, aggressive fingers. Two of them, and then three. Pumping until I’m sighing. And then gasping.

“Oh, my. Oh, Bastien.”

“Is this what you meant by reasons, little Raegan?” he croons into my ear. “Perhaps…three of them?”

I answer his roguish chuckle with another high-pitched sound. Not a gasp this time, but not a sigh. Something in between, seeming to arouse him like a caress of its own.

I savor every second of the moment. I revel in causing his blood to race and his libido to rise right along with mine. I preen, just a little, that he gets this way by simply touching me.

“Three’s a good number,” I tease out in a murmur. “But one can work too…if it’s the one and only of your cock.”

His throat convulses. The sound within…it’s dark and lusty and immediately addicting. It entrances me so much that I raise myself a few inches, sealing my lips over the vibrating knob in his neck. When he makes the sound again, such a primal and perfect drone, I suck harder.

“Méchante fille,” he growls. “Such a nasty girl, demanding my body like this. Making it so easy for me to find your sweet little minou. As if it already misses me fucking it…”

“Well,” I cut in with a sultry drawl, “there is such a thing as historical accuracy. Especially if it comes with delightful perks.”

“Oh, no one is coming yet, my sweet.”

It’s more command than flirtation, and every syllable has me shivering. He’s going all-in for the King and I vibe, and I couldn’t be more delighted. But the next moment is even better. As he picks up the tempo, languidly pushing back and forth into my channel, my clit ignites. My thighs clench. My hips buck at him, needing more. Oh, so much more.