Page 32 of His Stolen Duchess (Stolen by the Duke #7)

Chapter Twenty-Six

W hen they returned home, Georgina held Lysander’s hand tightly as he led her up the stairs.

The anticipation swelled in her body like lapping waves on the shoreline.

And like a ship caught in those waves, she held on tight to her anchor as mounting excitement threatened to burst forth and claim her body.

The walls blurred past as he guided her through the hallways. She kept her gaze fixed on his back, always a half step behind, studying him with quiet intensity. She licked her lips, eager to finally feel her husband within her.

Her heartbeat quickened when she thought about him being inside her. She had never experienced that but knew what was to come.

How will it feel? Will I be able to take what he has to give me?

The door closed with a thud.

Georgina looked around to find herself in Lysander’s chambers, his inner sanctum. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, and the more she tried to control her breathing, the more exaggerated it became.

When he turned from the door to pin her with his gaze, her face reddened. Her eyes were drawn to the bulge in his trousers. She had felt it before and knew how large he was.

His eyes blazed like those of a wild beast as he stood before her. Lysander was a man who took what he wanted, and what he wanted now stood directly before him.

“Come here,” he ordered.

Georgina did as she was told and walked over to him.

“Turn around,” he growled.

She could not refuse him. Georgina shuddered under his commands, but not out of fear. His voice ran through her like thunder across the moors during a storm. Her body trembled, every inch alive with heated anticipation for what lay ahead.

She turned away from him and looked at his ample bed. Her breathing slowed down to a soft and shallow rhythm as he took command, and she yielded to his touch.

Lysander was now so close that she could feel the warmth of his body radiating through their clothes.

She felt his hands on her back as he untied the ribbons of her dress.

Each touch of his fingertips on her bare skin sent ripples of desire through her.

She felt her dress loosen from her body with each deft movement.

He peeled the dress from her shoulders with deliberate care, letting it slip down her body and pool in a silken puddle at her feet. Her chemise followed, featherlight, until she stood naked before him.

“Absolutely exquisite,” he muttered, his words sending echoes of warm tingles all over her body.

A breeze drifted in from the window, brushing her skin with a chill that quickly dispelled as his arm slid around her waist, his hand settling across her stomach. He held her there, warmth radiating from his touch, and it sent a slow ache of longing through her body.

She should have felt nervous standing naked before Lysander, but she didn’t. His composure wrapped around her like a cloak, steadying her, and she let herself sink into it. His hand on her skin was no longer just reassuring—it was electric, igniting a slow, delicious heat that spread through her.

“Walk over to the bed,” he instructed.

He released her from his grasp, and she immediately did as he instructed. Georgina walked away from him and swallowed once she stood next to the bed. She slowly turned around and felt his eyes boring into her.

His intense gaze roved up and down her body, and her skin tingled wherever he looked, as though he was physically touching her. He gestured for her to get onto his bed, watching her as she complied.

Again, no nervousness came upon her. She was uncovered and unbothered. The way he looked at her confirmed that he liked what he saw, and the force of his conviction cascaded out of him and into her. She wanted to stay there forever, adored by him, and lost in the depths of his gaze.

She sat down on the bed, then turned and pushed herself up, walking slowly and sensuously on her hands and knees across the soft sheets, giving him ample time to relish every inch of her body.

Lysander let out a low grunt of satisfaction as Georgina’s head sank into the down pillow. Georgina hesitated, unsure where to place her hands. She settled them on either side of her; fingers splayed against the sheets and crossed her ankles in a subtle gesture of restraint.

He unbuttoned and removed his waistcoat, tossing it onto a chair to his right. His shirt followed, revealing his muscular, chiseled chest. It was Georgina’s turn to explore him with her eyes, studying each soft expanse of hair, bead of sweat, and patch of bare skin, as heat coiled low in her groin.

Lysander strode forward to the foot of the bed, towering above her, and ran both hands through his hair, his muscles rippling invitingly across his torso.

“You’re mine now.” His eyes flashed brightly. “Do you understand that, Duchess?”

Georgina could only swallow and nod.

“Say it,” Lysander demanded.

“I’m yours now,” she whispered, gripping the bed sheets with both hands as she spoke.

“Good,” Lysander growled.

He stood there a moment longer before unbuckling his belt.

Georgina bit her lower lip as she watched him undress.

The trousers fell to the floor with a thud, but that was not what captured her attention.

She knew it was impolite to stare, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his manhood.

It throbbed before her, eager to be put to use.

Her nipples tightened, her core became taut, and her stomach clenched with anticipation.

She breathed heavily through her nose as her eyes traced the length of his shaft, yearning to feel it deep within her, yet uncertain of the discomfort that might follow.

She swallowed again and licked her dry lips nervously.

“You are mine, and that means I won’t hurt you,” Lysander promised.

Georgina tore her eyes away from his girth and looked up at him. She believed every word he’d said and felt his truth in the steady, unflinching way he gazed at her.

“I know,” she whispered.

He lifted his knees onto the bed and inched his body closer to hers like a wild animal with a prey set in its sights. All at once, he was touching her, one hand gripping her curved waist, pulling her into him, the other claiming her breast, his fingers pressing with a hunger that made her gasp.

Georgina’s breathing became shaky as he held her fast. She was his plaything, laid bare and vulnerable on his bed. She looked him in the eyes, not daring to look away, drawn to the quiet promise of safety and refuge shimmering in his eyes.

He held her a moment longer, then moved upwards with purpose, lifting one hand to cradle her head and tip it back. His unrestrained kiss was deep and possessive, and she melted into it, her body answering his with a passion pulled from the strength he poured into her.

She became intoxicated by the potency of his heat, hunger, and scent.

His tongue hungrily traced the seams of her lips before plunging inside her moist, inviting mouth, exploring its recesses, and tasting her with wild abandon.

He lowered his body onto hers, pressing her farther into the bed, encasing her with heat and weight like a living cocoon of desire.

“We’ve waited long enough,” he murmured against her lips, his hands tracing a slow path down her midriff, over her hip, and along the curve of her inner thigh. “You want this, don’t you? Open to me and aching for more.” His fingers found the soft folds of her intimate opening as he spoke.

Her buttocks tensed as he plunged into her with two fingers, and she arched her back, moaning, breaking their kiss, incapable of concentrating on anything but the feeling of pure desire that flowed through every crevice of her being.

“You’re ready for me, aren’t you, Duchess?” Lysander whispered, desire threading through his every word.

When she couldn’t answer him because of the overwhelming emotions and sensations swirling within her, he held her face in his fingers, tilted her head to look her in the eyes, and repeated his question.

“Yes,” Georgina gasped.

Lysander removed his fingers from her sodden core and swept his hands over her body. To Georgina, it felt as though he possessed a multitude of hands; his touch was on every inch of her body, simultaneously stroking her inside and out, hurling her into an unspeakable fervor.

“You’re an exquisite woman, Georgina.” His hands continued to move erotically across her skin, making her quiver with desire as he absorbed every aspect of her. “And every inch of you belongs to me.”

He placed one knee between her legs, then the other. As his hands roved over her, he eased her legs apart with his knees. She was open to him. His hand slid downward again, seeking her most intimate place with practiced ease, parting her warm, damp folds with a knowing touch.

Georgina whimpered as his fingers found the slick heat of her center, every subtle movement of his fingertips maddening her with their precision. It was almost unbearable, yet every flick and stroke only increased her need.

“I can feel how eager you are for me,” he murmured. “You’re so warm… and so wet.”

Each word he spoke rumbled through her like rushing water, but it was his tone, more than the words themselves, that thrilled her. Beneath his commanding, powerful cadence ran an unmistakable undercurrent of desire.

“Please,” Georgina groaned.

Lysander chuckled darkly. “Is that the best you can do?”

He didn’t give her a chance to answer. His mouth found the curve of her neck, his teeth grazing her nape before he claimed it with a sudden, fervent hunger.

His fingers slipped inside her again, and when he found the aching center of her, she arched her back with a gasp and raised her hips to draw him in more deeply.

Lysander’s other hand claimed her breast, kneading the plump mound, his thumb circling her erect nipple as she moaned.

He moved his fingers in slow, deliberate circles, his thumb caressing her swollen bud until waves of warmth began to shudder through her, threatening to undo her. His mouth descended to her chest, where he drew her free nipple between his lips, licking it softly before giving it a tender bite.

Georgina’s core pulsed, and she sank deeper into the bed, closing her eyes to concentrate on every sensation.

Her lips parted, and she wanted to beg him to take her fully, but she couldn’t form the words.

A low moan escaped her lips as he toyed with her, keeping her poised at the very edge of her release.

“Do you have anything else to say for yourself, Duchess?” he asked, planting a kiss on her breast.

Georgina tried to focus on her words once more, but she could only moan and whimper.

“I thought that might be the case,” he replied. “Then I’ll do with you as I please.”

With a shift of Lysander’s hips, he plunged his pulsing, rigid shaft into her, slipping in like a well-oiled sword into its sheath.

A bright streak of light flashed behind Georgina’s closed eyes as an all-consuming pleasure exploded deep within her.

Her body yielded rather than bracing itself, melting as he pressed into her, anchoring her with the weight of his hunger.

The sheer force of her release lifted her far from flesh and thought.

Each thrust of his hips drew her farther away from herself and lifted her upwards. She savored every thunderous rise and fall as her body shuddered and pulsed.

The way his length filled her with each stroke against her folds, his rough squeeze of her breast that he timed with every thrust, the grip of his teeth as they held and pulled at her neck—each sensation layered into the next.

Beads of sweat glistened on her breasts and back.

Their chests collided repeatedly in a rhythmic, savage waltz.

And the mingled, raw, unmistakable scent of them was everything she had imagined. And everything she hadn’t.

“Not yet,” Lysander growled as he once again brought her to the edge of reason.

He pulled back until only the tip remained, hovering just within her throbbing opening.

“No, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop…” Georgina nearly broke down with frustration.

Her eyes flew open, then locked onto his, and she gasped at his expression.

He opened his mouth and snarled, then grasped her head and kissed her fiercely as he drove his pulsating shaft into her with an ever-quickening pace.

Their hungry mouths collided, tongues met and tangled, their lips dragging and biting, the sound of their moans echoing between them.

Georgina grabbed fistfuls of bed sheets, holding them so tightly that they threatened to rip apart completely.

The force of Lysander’s passionate assault rocked the bed and caused the headboard to beat against the wall like a drum.

She felt one leg shake uncontrollably as her core tightened and pulsed, grabbing onto him as he slid in and out.

“Let yourself go,” he demanded. “I want to feel you explode when I do.”

He had granted her permission. Until then, she hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding herself—body clenched, breath shallow, everything drawn inward. But his words had unlocked something within her, and she could finally let go.

As her tension unraveled, she reached the pinnacle of her pleasure, and her release washed through her in undulating waves. She moaned long and low as her body shook with the force of her orgasm.

The walls of her womanhood gripped him repeatedly, and he shuddered inside her, each twitch a raw response to her force. Georgina, half-lost in sensation, realized with quiet wonder that the thrill of pleasing him was as exquisite as her own release.

“Georgina,” Lysander moaned.

Some short thrusts into her, the final one deep inside that he held, his manhood throbbing within, her walls and folds trembling. She gripped the sheets on either side as it ripped through her like fire, hot and hungry. His lips on her neck, then a nip from his teeth.

A deep groan from the Duke as his seed spilled into her, warm and plentiful, and she felt a peace overcome her, different from the raw passion. She held onto the sheets as her head sank back into the pillow, and for a few seconds, she couldn’t breathe.

“Mine,” he whispered into her ear. “Now and forever.”

She could breathe again. “Yours.”

They collapsed together on the bed. Lysander rolled onto his side, gathered Georgina in his arms, and held her quietly.

I will never forget that I am his and he is mine. Forever.