Page 260 of Desires of a Duke Collection

Meanwhile, in Helena’s bedchamber

Caught somewhere between consciousness and sleep, a warm body at her back and a heavy arm draped over her waist, Helena took a deep breath.

A familiar scent wafted around her, one from a long time ago. With its hints of citrus and amber, it brought back memories from her come-out and the heady days of early courtship. Stolen moments during balls and secret meetings in Hyde Park. Exciting times at soirées and in secluded gardens.

The first time she had ever been with a man.

“Do you suppose we could stay here like this for the rest of our lives?”

A grin formed at hearing the words again. She hadn’t thought of this memory in a very long time.

When the body moved at her back, she came awake in an instant. She glanced down to discover a hand cupping her breast, and the sensation of something hard nudging the back of one thigh.

Michael.

“What have you done to me?” she asked in a hoarse whisper, her entire body in a strange state between languid lethargy and sexual excitement.

A chuckle erupted from Michael as he raised himself onto an elbow and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I could ask the same of you, my love,” he teased. His lips moved to her bare shoulder, where he left a trail of tickling kisses.

He gently blew air where he had left the kisses and chuckled again when her shoulder shivered in response.

Helena slowly rolled onto her back, which forced him to back up on the bed. The tangle of bed linens suddenly disappeared from atop her, and she let out a cry of protest.

“As I recall, I did not give these beauties any attention earlier this evening,” Michael said before his mouth descended onto one of her breasts.

Torn between putting voice to a protest and pushing him off of her or simply enjoying the moment, Helena relaxed into the bed and purred. She placed a hand at the side of his head and smoothed it over his hair, her fingertips spearing it to scrape his scalp.

It was her turn to chuckle when she felt his head shiver. “Aren’t you supposed to be an old man?” she teased, inhaling sharply when his teeth and tongue captured a nipple and nibbled it.

“Am I? I certainly don’t feel old. Not right now,” he said before resuming his ministrations.

“Well, you certainly haven’t forgotten how to make love to me,” she remarked.

He lifted his head from her breast and blew on it. “I never will,” he vowed. “Even when I’m a hundred years old.”

She giggled. “I rather doubt you’re going to want some old wrinkled hag in your bed when you’re a hundred years old.”

His head bobbed up and his brows furrowed. “Watch how you describe yourself, my love. I’ll not tolerate it,” he countered. “Besides, you’ll only be ninety-seven.”

Helena inhaled sharply, both from hearing his words and from what a wandering hand was doing between her thighs. “I rather doubt I’m still going to be alive when I’m ninety-seven,” she said in protest.

“You’d better be, if I’m going to be a hundred.”

“Michael,” she said suddenly, when his thumb pressed her swollen womanhood and sent an especially sharp sensation of pleasure shooting through her abdomen.

“I could stop if you’d prefer,” he said, moving his lips to her other breast.

“Don’t you dare,” she countered, tittering quietly. When his kisses moved farther down her body, she gasped. “Michael,” she quietly scolded, realizing he was trailing his lips along her striae.

“What?” he said when he moved from one silvery line to the next.

“You’re tickling me,” she murmured. Although there was no hint of censure in her words, she did push down on his shoulders.

He murmured something unintelligible before he suddenly lifted himself from her body and landed on his back. Although he was completely prone, his manhood stood at attention from its nest of curls.

Realizing he had misread her moves, Helena climbed atop him, her knees on either side of his hips.

“What’s this?” he asked in surprise. “Am I to play a pony?”

“If you think for one moment I was done with you...” She steadied herself on her arms as she lifted her hips. “Then you have misjudged the situation,” she continued as she impaled herself on his manhood.

Michael’s “oof” was combined with a chuckle as she leaned back and stared down at him with a look of triumph. A second later, and she had wrapped an arm in front of her breasts. “Why did you do that?” he asked, his expression of happiness replaced with disappointment.

She leaned forward and flattened her torso against his. “There’s still a candle lamp burning,” she whispered.

He lifted his head and glanced toward the fireplace. Even if no lamps were lit, there were still a few flames flickering there. “Is that a problem?” he asked. He turned his head in the opposite direction and frowned, as if he was judging the distance to the candle lamp.

She gave him a quelling glance. “You just want to see my breasts bob up and down,” she accused.

“You say that as if you think it will be a bad thing,” he countered, an expression of guilt already evident.

“I rather doubt they’re going to do it quite like you’re expecting,” she said, grinning at knowing she had guessed correctly.

“If I blow out the flame, will you continue doing what you were about to do?”

His query was accompanied by a slight lift of his hips, and she felt him move deeper inside her. “I can use the snuffer, I think,” she said, angling her body so she could reach it with the tips of her fingers while his cock remained firmly inside her. She finally had a hold on the silver wand when she let out a cry of surprise as a sharp dart of pleasure once again emanated from her womanhood. Her attempt at snuffing out the flame failed.

Michael chuckled softly. “If I died right now, I would be a happy man for all eternity,” he claimed.

“You had better not die right now,” she warned. “Remember, you’re supposed to live to be a hundred.” Her second attempt at putting out the candle lamp succeeded. Only the golden glow from the fireplace illuminated the bedchamber.

In the aftermath before their eyes adjusted, Helena once again sat atop him. The temptation to make Michael wait for his release was too much, and she teased him by trailing her fingertips through the blonde curls covering his chest and down the middle of his stomach.

Although she was aware of how his hands gripped her hips, Helena didn’t realize where his thumbs were until her fingertips had reached the dark curls where their bodies met. When he pressed and rubbed her womanhood, her back arched and her chin lifted and her head fell back as an intense pleasure rolled through her. Her keening cry split the night as he began thrusting into her over and over.

Stretched out as she was, she knew he could see all of her, but she found she didn’t care.

When he ceased his movements, she felt the warmth of his sudden release and reveled in hearing his groan of satisfaction.

She couldn’t help but giggle when she heard his whispered, “I am most definitely living to be a hundred,” as she lowered her body to lay atop his.