Page 155 of How to Love a Duke in Ten Days

“We don’t have to do this,” he said. “There are other ways.”

“I want to.” Alexandra padded to their bed, and he lifted her upon it, gathering the pillows to support her belly as she bent over. “I trust you.”

Those words were like a balm to his heart, and a tinder to his cock.

“You tell me if you’re afraid,” he said.

“I’m never afraid. Not with you.” She rested her forehead on her arms. “This is the last memory I want to be rid of. The last barrier I want to shed. How better to do it than this?”

He both heartily agreed and obsessively worried. Thus far they’d been lucky enough to avoid a negative sexual experience. With communication, humor, and understanding they’d been able to breach her fears and bury many of her memories. What a treasure it would be, to free her of every pain. He knew she’d never completely forget, but perhaps she could release as much of her burden as was possible. Relinquishing the hold of the past on her present existence.

He moved behind her, caressing her spine, savoring the feel of her hip in his hand, fuller than before, sensual and soft.

The sight of her was almost too beautiful to bear. The plump globes of her ass extended toward him, the luscious trove below already dewy and damp.

Piers split the folds with a probing finger, hunger knotting in his belly as he bent to feast. When his tongue slipped along the lovely pleats and pliant petals he reveled in her little mewls and hitches of breath. He teased her with little darts of his tongue, coaxing the folds to become full and hot, engorged with desire. He searched her sex in all the intricate places, delving inside with his tongue, wanting to drink at the well of wanting he found there.

He’d never cease hungering for her flavor. Never would he be satiated.

Tormenting her with slow, swirling motions, he made her give up her dignity to him as she writhed and wriggled and pressed her hips backward, rocking against his lips. Finally, he centered all his attentions on her clitoris,flicking it in feather-light strokes, knowing that was all it would take to send her over the edge.

She arched and cried out, dousing his tongue with her release. Her body clenched and trembled, her hips jerking until he brought her down slowly, disseminating her climax into soft-spun shivers that bloomed goose pimples over her naked flesh.

Piers pulled back, wiping his beard and licking his lips like a cat who’d been caught in the cream. He’d never tire of her gratification, of the satisfaction it granted him.

Rising to his knees, he drank in the sight, loving the glow of her pregnancy, the luminescence shimmering beneath her skin.

“I love you,” he growled, when he meant to murmur.

“I love you,” she replied dreamily.

Reaching down, he palmed himself, rubbing the head of him against her vulnerable opening, expecting her to tense. To stiffen.

She didn’t.

He bent over her, pressing heated kisses to her spine, whispering love words as he pushed into the velvet cove of her body. Once he’d locked himself as deep as he could go, he stayed there, enjoying the wet, tight feel of her around him. The little pulses and aftershocks of her climax a heavenly feeling around his sensitized flesh.

“God, this feels so…” He stopped, drawing back. “Are you all ri—”

“If you finish that question, I’m going to geld you.” Her threat held no real heat, and Piers grinned as he felt the impatient wriggle of her hips.

He flexed inside of her, and then began to move. The position afforded him the most wicked sight. His cock, slick with her desire, impaling her again and again, joining them in strong, rhythmic thrusts. Her delicate pinkskin, soft yet tight, exerted the perfect pressure, welcoming his thrust, clenching upon his withdrawal.

Her sweet sex was shaped to accommodate only him, and by God did it ever.

After his first initial thrusts, she began to rock back against him, opening herself to him, matching his rhythm in little demanding nudges. Urging him deeper.

He obliged, reaching between them, beneath himself, to flick at the beaded nub he knew would respond. His other hand spread her ass, his curious fingers twirling wet circles around the tight opening he found there.

Her astonished gasp was followed by a pulse of her inner muscles, goading him onward. He breached the gathered place only slightly with his fingertip, delighted when a swift and unexpected orgasm ripped through her, clamping her flesh rhythmically around his, milking him until he could stand it no longer.

His breath caught, then ceased as his release broke his rhythm, locking him in clutches of liquid fire. Her name poured from his lips in several broken syllables, the pulses of ecstasy so wildly overwhelming he almost yearned to escape them.

It was all he could do not to collapse upon her afterward, but he controlled a descent that somehow found their limbs tangled together. Her belly nestled between them, he cocooned her body with his, caressing the places he’d grown to recognize as her favorites. The undersides of her breasts, her clavicles, the swell of her stomach.

“You didn’t seem to mind that,” he ventured, wickedly.

“It was the best,” she panted, slick from exhaustion and exertion. “The best… ever.”