Page 48 of Duke with a Desire

He worshiped her with his tongue and lips, with sucks and swirls and decadent licks, and she came to a shuddering release that took her by surprise with its sudden force. A strangled cry tore from her lips, almost animalistic in sound. Wave after wave of euphoric pleasure swept over her, bathing her in a glow, leaving her gasping and breathless, mouth agape.

Her heart was galloping when he rocked back on his heels, his eyes hooded and smoldering, his mouth glistening.

“You’re so bloody perfect,” he rasped.

She knew she wasn’t. She likely looked a fright. Fallen woman in repose, wearing a sodden gown, hair limp and soaked, legs splayed. Heavens, he was looking at her…there, his gaze hot and intent.

“Pink and pretty like a rose,” he added, then licked his lips. “I love the way you taste.”

The flesh between her thighs throbbed. How shameless she was, accepting his praise, exposing herself to him. But it didn’t matter. She could have him.

Just this once, and without repercussions. There would be no awkwardness thereafter between them. He would simply never know it had been her. Aphrodite would never know. No one would ever discover Ophelia’s wicked little secret. She could keep the memories of her night with him tucked close to her heart.

“Are you uncomfortable on that table?” he asked, caressing her thighs.

“I’m fine,” she managed, somehow finding her faculties through the haze of lust that had descended upon her.

“Of course you’re not comfortable,” he answered for himself, frowning as he rose to his full towering height and flipped down her skirts before reaching for her waist. “It’s wrought iron. What a beast I am. I was so desperate for you that I couldn’t wait. Are you hurt?”

“No,” she hastened to reassure him. “I’m not hurt at all.”

She was the opposite. She was floating in a sea of bliss. She’d never known such a thing was possible, coming from a man’s mouth on her. Nor had she known the erotic delight existed. Corbett had never seen fit to pleasure her in that fashion. Her world was still utterly upended.

Prestwick’s grasp on her waist tightened, and he lifted her from the table, once again settling her on her feet as if nothing had just happened. She reached for him when he would have stepped away, not sure her legs would support her.

“Are you in pain from the table?” He frowned down at her, concern in his voice.

“Quite the opposite,” she said, still breathless.

Her ears were ringing. Perhaps she was going to swoon. The heady rush had yet to leave her.

“Ah.” His frown transformed into a brilliant grin.

Heat suffused her face. She was going to catch flame at any moment.

“It is just that I never… That is to say, I didn’t know…” She couldn’t bear to finish her confession.

It was embarrassing. She was supposed to be playing the part of the experienced widow, and yet she had never felt anything as wondrous as the magic that had just been wrought by this gorgeous man’s mouth.

He kissed her. It was unexpected. He swooped in and pressed his lips on hers, and she was too startled for a moment to respond. But then he was kissing her deeply, holding her close to him, ravishing her mouth as he’d done to the rest of her, and she was helpless to do anything but respond in kind. She clung to him, kissing him in return, tasting herself on his lips.

They clung to each other, kissing and kissing as the rain pounded on the glass overhead. Kissing as if no one existed but the two of them, as if time ceased to be, along with the manor house filled with houseguests beyond. As if nothing had come before and nothing would come after. There was just this, the two of them, lips and tongues and breaths fusing, hearts pounding furiously, hands traveling over sodden fabric, bodies straining together.

Until finally, he strung a line of kisses along her jaw, and she felt his hot breath coasting over the sensitive flesh there. “Come with me, love.”

He tongued the whorl of her ear.

She inhaled sharply. “Where?”

“My bedroom.”

“I cannot. The guests…”

“Are entertaining themselves,” he finished for her, kissing her throat, then nuzzling her temple. “They don’t need you to help them find someone to fuck. Trust me, they’re all adept at doing so on their own.”

She gasped again at the vulgar word.

He chuckled and straightened, his gaze searching. “Forgive me for my coarseness. What I meant was they shall look after themselves for a time. Let me look after you. Who does that for you, hmm? No one, I would venture to guess. So, allow me, love.”