Page 60 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
He stepped forward. “Is that so?” he rasped down at her.
She closed her eyes. “Yes.” But this time it was an unconvincing whisper.
“Liar.”
“Yes.No.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “You need to love her,” she whispered. “Youmust.”
Had she forgotten? “I told you. I don’t believe in love.”
They stared at each other. Finally, she reached up, touching her cool, bare fingers to his cheek. “You deserve love, Matthew,” she whispered, her voice shaking with certainty. “You deserve to love and be loved.”
Their gazes held, the connection between them like a lit fuse of explosives, rushing toward something neither of them was capable of stopping.
And then he snapped. He dragged her against him and kissed her with hot, desperate, open-mouthed kisses. She kissed him back, equally hot, equally desperate, making little whimpering noises in the back of her throat that sent shudders of lust through him.
Love? That was whatshedeserved. He would love her thoroughly. Right now.
He turned them both and pressed her against the wall, keeping his lips locked to hers. He moved his fingertips down, his lips following over her cheek and then her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. He tugged her bodice down until her nipple appeared, soft and pink, and he closed his mouth over it. She groaned wantonly. She was so perfect. So soft, so sweet. His hands shook as he rucked up her dress. His whole body shook.
“Matthew,” she moaned, her fingers threading through his hair. “Matthew.”
His name on her tongue drove him out of his mind.
He finally managed to slip his hand under her hem, then he was stroking her stockinged thigh, then tucking his fingers beneath the ribbons of her garters to caress the smooth flesh beneath.
Then his hand found her center, cupping it gently. Her body jerked at the contact, and she cried out.
“Shh,” he murmured against her breast. He licked her nipple. “I’m going to make you feel good, Jo. So good. Let me.”
“Yes.” She bucked against him, and he laughed softly. His spitfire.
Using his fingers, he spread her and felt the wet heat waiting there for him. He groaned, kissing back up the smooth, silky skin of her neck. “You’re so hot, love. So wet.”
“Is…is that…um…correct?”
“Quite correct. Better than correct,” he breathed against her lips before taking them right as he found her opening and slipped one finger inside. She gasped into his mouth, her body quaking against him. He slid one arm around her and cupped her bottom, dragging her against him, unable to stop himself from pressing his needy cock against her stomach.
But this was about Jo. Her pleasure. He began to move his finger, stroking her, pressing his palm against her until he discovered the spot that made her pant and squirm. When he pressed his thumb against it, he absorbed her cry with his mouth.
He rubbed, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head at the burning heat of her slickness coating his fingers. He whispered encouragement into her ear. “Let go, Jo, love. Feel it. You’re so beautiful. So sweet. I want to taste you. Fill you. I want to hear you come. Scream my name.”
Pleasure shot through him as she squirmed more desperately, shuddered more violently, panted more heavily. She loved his wicked words. He loved her reaction to them even more.
He slipped a finger inside her once more, then curved it up, pressing his palm to her. Her knees buckled, but he held her up, kneading her soft bottom with his other hand.
“Come for me, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing the shell of her ear.
And, on his next press, she did. As her body gave a violent tremor, her channel clenched and pulsed around him, growing even wetter, even hotter, though he hadn’t thought that was possible. He held her closely, tucked against him, knowing she was probably unaware that he was supporting her weight entirely as she came, her voice an erotic keen that made him so hard he nearly came himself.
Her body undulated in his arms, a pulsing bundle of ecstasy. When it finally subsided, she laid her head on his shoulder, completely spent. He slipped his finger out of her and pulled his hand away, her skirts falling back down to hide her stockinged legs. He tugged up her bodice gently, then took her in his arms and carried her to that awful chair. He wished there were a bed, or even a sofa, where he could lie beside her and hold her awhile, but all that was available was that uncomfortable lumpy monstrosity.
He sat, then positioned her on his lap, gratified when she settled in against him, slipping her arms around his waist.
“Mmm,” she said, blinking up at him sleepily as he tugged her closer. He couldn’t stop touching her. “You were right.”
“I was?”
“Yes. So good.”
