Page 43

Without warning, Alistair leaned to one side and fumbled with the switch on the lamp. The room was plunged into darkness so absolute, Olivia sucked in a breath.

Then she did so again when she felt his hands settled on her breasts. He was…leaning over her? His mouth was there, blazing a hot trail across her skin. He wasn’t beside her in bed, he was over her, kissing her, tasting her.

Worshipping her?

Alistair kissed a trail to her stomach, one hand still cupping her right breast. Uncertain what to do with her hands, one settled in his hair while the other fluttered against the hollow at the base of her throat.

His free hand pushed apart her legs, although the muscles in her thighs tightened momentarily, trying to protect herself from—what? Embarrassment? So what if she was embarrassingly wet; she’d washed thoroughly and there was nothing to be—

Oh.

His mouth had found her cunny. He dragged his tongue through her slit, which was now even wetter, then circled her clitoris. And Olivia would’ve sat straight up in bed, had he not been massaging her breast and more or less holding her down.

This felt nothing like her own explorations!

Her new husband’s tongue teased and licked, and then his fingers joined in. While he gently lapped at the bud of her pleasure, he slowly pressed one finger inside her. She’d tried it before, of course, but his fingers were larger, thicker, strangely callused. Her attention got her there, of course. His ministrations caused her to shiver and whimper his name.

Alistair paused only a heartbeat before doubling his efforts, fingers and mouth getting her achingly close as desperate pleasure built inside her. Helpless, she writhed beneath him, desperate for a release from this exquisite torture.

Dear God, it was ecstasy!

It was as if he had read her mind. In one moment, he’d pulled his mouth from her and moved upward, settling himself between her thighs even as his finger stroked her from the inside. She could feel the coolness of his trousers pressed against her thighs, and knew he’d merely unbuttoned himself, not removed his clothing.

He paused, and she sensed he was waiting for her. For her permission? Oh, drat not being able to see him! Next time they did this—tomorrow?—she was going to request they keep the lights on!

Reaching up, she gripped his upper arms. “Alistair,” she whispered, “I’m ready.”

It was no lie; she was ready to become his.

This man she barely knew; her husband.

Between one breath and the next, his finger was gone and he was pushing into her. Instinctively, Olivia widened her thighs, welcoming him despite the discomfort.

And it wasn’t minimal.

Suddenly, she was grateful for the darkness, because it hid her wince as his thick member—cock, she reminded herself—invaded her entrance. Thank goodness she had been so wet, because in a heartbeat, the pleasure she’d been feeling a moment before had evaporated.

Luckily, he didn’t move farther but stilled, holding himself in silent control above her. She could hear his harsh breathing, feel the prickly hairs of his legs against her upper thighs.

Her fingers dug into the muscles of his upper arms, but it was hard to imagine she was doing any damage. She forced her hands to relax, and in doing so, the rest of her followed suit. He was still unmoving, and only now did she realize he’d done that for her.

His control was impressive, judging from the sound of his breathing.

The realization he cared about her reaction…that, more than anything, soothed her pain. Slowly Olivia’s thighs relaxed, and she forced herself to inhale and exhale steadily. When one of his palms skimmed against her shoulder, she startled. But the touch seemed approving.

He couldn’t speak, and she couldn’t see him. The whole adventure seemed a sort of sensory madhouse, everything confused, everything focused on the wrong spot.

And then he began to move. Slowly at first, just small movements. But they caused her to suck in a gasp; not in pain this time, but in…surprise? That hadn’t felt bad. Experimentally, she rotated her hips once, and was amazed to feel her slick skin sliding across his.

She was still wet?

She still wanted this?

What a stupid question, of course she still wanted this.

Whimpering, she tugged on his arms, encouraging him wordlessly.

The silent duke obliged.