Page 37

Chapter Thirty

T he kiss was anything but gentle—and everything she had expected from him.

Dominic’s kisses were hungry and possessive. He was desperate, taking and taking as if she alone could satisfy some acute craving.

His hands slid up her back, his fingers searing against her spine as he pulled her into him.

She melted. She wasn’t going to fight it, not when a part of her had been aching for this.

For hours.

For days.

For far too long.

And she wasn’t the only one who wanted it. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, seeking more. She didn’t entirely understand the wild urgency of it, but her body did.

Then, suddenly, the kiss broke. Too soon.

A wave of cold washed over her skin at the loss—until Dominic rested his forehead against hers. The connection, though quieter, didn’t vanish. It pulsed in the shallow breaths they shared. It throbbed in the way he looked at her—so close, so vulnerable.

He panted like a man possessed. Because of her . Because of this .

“Marianne.” He groaned her name almost reverently. “I’m not jealous. Believe me, I’m not.”

Something in her unraveled, tight and delicate. Hopeful. Playful.

“What are you then, Dominic?” she asked, managing a shaky smile. “Because this doesn’t feel like indifference. You want me. You like chasing me. Or has the novelty already worn off?”

His blue eyes bored into hers. He didn’t answer. Not with words. Instead, he took her hand—his new favorite habit—and pulled her down the hallway toward a closed door.

Her heart hammered, but she didn’t resist. Curiosity thrummed through her veins. Desire flared. Whatever he had planned, she suspected she wouldn’t want it to stop.

He led her into a small, dimly lit room. Sparsely furnished. Just a large couch, centered like it had been waiting for them.

Dominic closed the door behind them. The latch clicked into place. The sound felt final. Intimate. Dangerous.

“Do you want to know what I am?” he asked. His voice was low, almost gentle, but his eyes told a different story. She had teased him about being a hunter—but only now did she truly believe it. “Yes, I’m a hunter. And you, Marianne, are my prey. My little doe.”

Her breath caught. She felt dizzy, her heartbeat a roar in her ears.

“I’m not your doe,” she replied evenly, even as her body trembled. “I thought we’d settled that already.”

“I suppose someone like you—someone this dangerous—can’t be a doe,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, bracketing her body against the wall. “You’re something I’ve tried to resist. But I can’t. I won’t.”

The words skittered down her spine, sending a thrill through her.

Had he truly tried to resist her?

Before she could think or speak, he was kissing her again, more fiercely this time. His hands roamed over her body with growing urgency. Her mind went blank, awareness narrowing to sensation alone.

Desire consumed her. His touch branded her. His body moved against hers with sinful confidence. And her gown—her last barrier—fell to the floor like mist, surrendered to his skilled hands.

She tried not to think about how practiced he was with such fastenings, or how many women he’d touched like this before. But then his breath ghosted over her shoulder, his hands traced her curves, and suddenly, it didn’t matter.

“Dominic,” she whispered, unsure what she was asking, only that she needed him.

Her knees threatened to buckle.

“Say my name again,” he commanded, his voice rough, reverent.

“Dominic.”

This time, it was stronger. Hers. A declaration.

Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer still, her fingers threading into his tousled hair. He kissed her again—deep and all-consuming—until she forgot everything but the taste of him.

And yet, beneath the hunger, there was care. A quiet restraint in his hands, a softness in his hold.

“I’m not fragile,” she whispered.

“I know, darling,” he groaned into her neck.

His hands pushed her body to meet his, demanding and reverent. Her skin lit up under his touch, her back arching instinctively.

“Oh? Do you really know?” she teased, her voice breathy, still sharp-edged even as her body softened.

“You’re mine,” he growled.

He sounded like a predator now, starving and ready to feast. His words scorched her skin. His teeth grazed her earlobe, making her gasp. She grabbed for him, anchoring herself with handfuls of his hair.

“Am I?” she asked, her voice laced with both defiance and uncertainty.

She wanted to believe him. A part of her did. Even when he’d kept her at a distance, she’d waited for this. For him.

And he had followed her. Not just to London, not just into this moment, but in the quiet ways that made her heart ache.

Still, Dominic went still. His hands gentled. He looked into her face as if he saw everything she felt.

“Tell me if you’re not ready,” he said, his voice low but firm. “There can’t be any misunderstanding between us. I’ll stop, Marianne. I’ll stop if you say so.”

Her heart thudded hard. She was aroused, yes—but vulnerable, too. She wanted this. Him. But everything felt immense.

She swallowed, her throat dry. “I’m ready.”

The words came out small. Intimate. Truthful.

His eyes softened. Barely—but she saw it. He reached up and brushed a lock of hair from her face.

“Are you certain, Marianne? You need to be certain. There’s no turning back from this.”

She nodded slowly, then licked her lips. “I’ve never been more certain, Dominic. I can do this.”

“It’s not just another task to tick off your list,” he reminded her gently.

“I know,” she whispered.

Those two words were all it took to draw him in for another kiss.

This time, it was even more urgent, hungrier—if that were possible. His hands roamed over her body with purpose. The long, sweeping touches turned into something slower, more seductive—fingers teasing her pebbled nipples, weighing her heavy breasts.

Marianne moaned softly as pleasure soared within her. Her touches matched his urgency, her hands resting on his chest, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

How could he still be clothed when she was stark naked before him?

Dominic didn’t hesitate. With a fluid motion, he shrugged off his shirt.

Marianne gasped at the sight of his muscular chest and broad shoulders. She hadn’t expected a wealthy duke, surrounded by servants and luxury, to look like this.

Her eyes traced the sculpted planes of his stomach down to the faint trail of dark hair dipping into his trousers. The V-shaped muscles she’d only heard about in whispers were very real.

Her husband was magnificent.

“You’re staring, wife,” he murmured, amusement clear in his voice. Not mocking, just tender, lightly teasing.

“I-I can’t help it,” she admitted, her fingers trailing over his muscles.

He was like a Renaissance painting come to life. No, even better.

“Enough looking. I want to touch you. I want to do everything with you. I want to be inside you, cradled by your velvet heat. I want to know if you’re wet for me—ready for this,” he said, gripping her waist and pulling her against his hard length.

“Do you feel that? I’m hard for you, and we haven’t even gone beyond kissing. ”

“Dominic,” she breathed, rocking her hips against him.

His hardness felt perfect against her needy core.

“Oh, you know I’ll take care of you,” he promised, his voice rough and reassuring as he guided her backward until she fell on the soft, wide couch.

Her heart hammered as she sank into the cushions, wondering where they were. She flushed at the thought that this room might be meant for exactly this kind of tryst.

Dominic quickly joined her, hovering over her. He pressed his lips to hers again—tender but demanding. Their tongues tangled, their breaths mingled. He sucked her tongue deep into his mouth, making her whimper, while his chest brushed against her nipples and his hands memorized every curve.

When his fingers found the sensitive place between her thighs, she gasped, her hips bucking. His low, dark chuckle sent shivers down her spine.

“Patience, little doe,” he murmured.

“Little doe? Shouldn’t the hunter be the patient one?” she gasped, her breath catching as he traced the lips of her sex before slipping a finger inside her.

Another followed.

Heavens .

His fingers moved slowly and steadily in and out, exploring, coaxing. She was slick but still tight, welcoming the fullness that built within her.

“Dominic, please,” she begged, her hips undulating in rhythm with his fingers.

He obeyed, his lips trailing down her neck, pressing gentle kisses until he reached her collarbone. But he wasn’t content. His descent continued even as his fingers worked their magic.

In and out, in and out.

When he took her nipple deeper into his mouth, she cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation. Pleasure pooled low in her belly as his fingers moved, his mouth suckling one bud, then the other—teasing, laving, pulling until she was gasping and trembling beneath him.

Dominic knew exactly how to touch her—how to explore. His kisses and caresses covered every inch of her, and still, he did not stop.

Was it always like this?

Even as her mind went hazy from pleasure, Marianne remembered how some women complained about pain and unfulfilled desire.

But this? She wanted more of this—always.

Dominic did not disappoint. He continued to explore, leaving her writhing beneath him. Her hands trembled as they clutched his shoulders, his kisses searing her skin.

“Dominic,” she gasped. “D-Dominic. It feels so… so good.”

“That’s it, darling,” he murmured, finally releasing her sensitive nipples. “Let go, Marianne. Let it happen.”

She did. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling and clinging to him.

Panting, she came back to herself to find his eyes dark with desire, locked onto hers. He was still hard, pressing against her thigh.

“Beautiful,” he grunted.

“It’s your turn,” she said, her cheeks flushed.

She remembered her duty—and welcomed it.

She tugged at his trousers, her hands trembling as he helped her. She swallowed hard at the sight of his length.

“You’re… big,” she stammered, her eyes wide. “I-I don’t think?—”

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised softly.

After she nodded again, he positioned himself between her thighs, hesitation flickering in his eyes.

“Are you certain? You have one last chance to say no.”

“I can?” she asked, startled.

“I’d die if you did,” he groaned. “But don’t think because I pleasured you, you have to do the same for me.”

“Really?” Her voice rose with surprise.

“Indeed. So, are you certain?” His face flushed with focus, the tip of his cock teasing her entrance.

“Yes. Please.” She barely whispered it but meant it fully.

He obeyed, entering her slowly, inch by inch, his eyes fixed on hers. She flinched at the first sting, her nails digging into his arms, but he waited patiently until the discomfort faded to a dull ache.

“D-Dominic,” she whispered, overwhelmed by how full she felt, now joined as one.

“Trust me, Marianne,” he murmured, kissing her forehead before beginning to move.

His thrusts were slow, deliberate at first, reaching places no one else had touched—just the right spots needing a nudge to ignite her. Her body arched to meet every thrust.

He settled into a rhythm—in and out. Sometimes he pulled out to the tip before sliding back in deeper, mostly staying buried inside her as he drove rhythmically, building the tension low in her belly.

Tighter and tighter.

Higher and higher.

“Yes, little doe,” he urged. “I feel you. Let go. I want you squeezing me, holding me tight. You feel so good.”

The last sting faded into pure pleasure, more intense than anything she’d ever known. She looked up at him and caught the pained, ecstatic expression on his face.

“Are you in pain?” she gasped.

“No,” he admitted, breathless. “Mine’s the face of a man who’s reached heaven. You feel like heaven.”

His thrusts deepened, growing more urgent. Her walls clenched and pulled him deeper, riding the edge.

The aftershocks hit her hard. As he pounded into her, everything dissolved into euphoria. The place that once hurt now pulsed with need and pleasure, culminating in a climax that left her breathless, her breasts jiggling from his powerful strokes.

She squeezed him hard, crying out as his rhythm grew erratic. He shuddered, spilling inside her with a growl.

“T-That was so?—”

“Heaven, as I said, little doe,” Dominic whispered, pulling her close.

His arms wrapped around her protectively, and somehow that felt even better than the lovemaking—though she wanted more.

“I’m here,” he promised.

“Of course you are,” she teased, still flushed, still feeling his half-hard length inside her.

He chuckled. “You’ve ruined me, Marianne. Now that I know how you feel, I want more of this,” he whispered.

As if on cue, he was hard again, but he slid out of her gently.

“Why?”

“You’re still sore. Besides, I want to continue this in our home.”

Their home.

They couldn’t stay here. They had to get dressed and rejoin the others in the ballroom, or slip away to Oakmere Hall.