Page 10 of Kiss the Duke Goodbye
When he finally gazed at her from his crouched position, his hands full of skin-warmed silk, he found her smoky eyes wide, her moist lips parted. Sighing, he drew his fingertip along her calf and over her knee, doing a languid circle on the inside of her thigh. His breath shot out in a rush. Her quim was glistening, a pale pink near the color of a conch shell situated right before him from her position seated on the desk. Her hair was a trace darker than the flaxen tresses upon her head. A glorious thatch he hoped to explore with his lips and tongue. Why that particular subject fascinated him in the darkness of his bedchamber, his rigid shaft in his hand, Knox couldn’t say.
He only knew he’d wondered at least a thousand times about this very thing. As well as the shade of her nipples.Soon, he thought to himself.Soon.
Continuing higher, he reached the crease where her leg met her hip. She didn’t try to stop him, merely watched with an intriguingly enigmatic expression. The only indication of her mounting arousal were her shallow breaths and the fingers curved around the desk’s edge until her knuckles had whitened.
He leaned to kiss her knee, trailing his mouth along her thigh. Her skin was as soft as the stockings he held. Her intimate fragrance was doing wondrous things to his heartbeat, the thump of blood pulsing through his veins. He’d never been lightheaded before, the beauty of the act rendering him speechless.
Pushing past the unfamiliar feeling of trepidation, he cupped her bottom, and pulled her against his mouth, slicking his tongue across her folds. Her stockings tumbled to the floor. In the most erotic move in his memory, she arched into the contact, offering herself to him, bumping her pelvis against his cheek.
“Touch me,” she murmured thickly, sending his arousal careening so high he was puzzled at being able to remain on his feet. The punch of pleasure had him groaning against her,flicking his tongue across the knot of nerves topping her sex. In reply to the vibration, she tunneled her hands through his hair and whimpered. Not a shout…merely a raw, unbiddenwhimper.
He’d never heard a sound as primally blissful.
The rest of the campaign to bring her to orgasm was a blur. His chest hitching, his heartbeat pulsing in his ears, he endeavored to memorize every crease, curl, and fold. Every delicate valley and exquisite ridge. She tasted of ambrosia, nectar of the gods.Go gently, Knox, he advised himself. However, his mouth was intent, tongue seeking, lips molding around her while her juices flowed, both of them too committed to pleasure to dally.
He longed to sample when instead he feasted.
The sounds echoing about the parlor were comprised of her coarse demands and his responding murmurs of approval. His own skin was moist, his shirt sticking to his back. He wanted the garments on both of themgone. A considerable part of him wished he’d never offered to play.Fucking idiot.When he wanted to shove her back, wrap her slender legs around his waist, and sink his hard length inside her. Pump and grind until neither of them could walk.For days.
Knowing he’d about reached his limit, his cock near to bursting, he trailed his fingers along her silken folds and teased at her entrance. While she emitted these husky little sounds again, he worked one finger, then two, into her sleek channel. She slumped to her elbows, her head falling back, the crown nearly touching the desk.
“Knox,” was all she whispered in a gravelly voice.
Maddened, his lips closed around the rigid nub controlling her release as his fingers brought her to a frenzy. He grasped her hip with his free hand to hold her in place, wringing every bit of pleasure from the moment. He wasn’t especially proud of the fact that he knew he could make her come in seconds, maybe aminute. Nor was he proud of the fact that she’d almost made him spend in his drawers like a wee lad.
When he fucked her the first time, his life would be complete.
Of course, Clarissa worsened his arousal by looping her slender leg over his shoulder, bringing him in and under her, his fingers driving, his tongue and lips consuming. There were no times before her, beforethis. The past vanished.
His mind was an absolute blank aside from her.
He’d never been torn apart by a female before.
Her fingers tightened in his hair as her hips lifted. She shuddered, quivers racing along her arms and legs. He looked up in time to catch the bowing of her body, her hand grasping the desk, her knuckles as pale as the snow falling outside. Her cries rippled through the air, charging the space until her heat was greater than the blaze radiating from the hearthfire.
At the last, she shoved him away with a gasp, sliding off the desk, and to her knees before him, her skirts fluttering about before settling in a crumpled puddle at her feet. Stunned, she palmed the floor with one hand, her body shaking. Her hair was a shroud hanging over her face and past her shoulders. Her chest rose on staggered gasps, the only noise in the room aside from the splintering wood in the grate.
Knox started to apologize but words were lost to him. Perhaps he’d been too rough. Too hasty, using everything he’d learned when a minute percentage would have sufficed for an introductory session. Truthfully, once he’d gotten a look at her, a goddess spilled across the desk, ivory hair and glistening skin, what choice had he had? Was it his fault he’d raced outside his normal, controlled parameters in pursuit of pleasure?
When he longed to do things to this womanhe’dnever dared do with another. Secret fantasies involving cravats, bedposts, blindfolds, and seduction. Cursing softly, he shook himself free of his carnal absorption.Bloody hell, he decided, he’d been tooenergetic with an inexperienced partner. He would tread more carefully next time.
If his gorgeous milliner consented to another rendezvous after this.
Clarissa glanced through the dense, flaxen cloak. Her eyes were the color of pewter, the lids hooded in half-arousal. She licked her lips, her purr one of utter delight. “Your turn, Your Grace.”
Knox frowned in confusion as his cock roared to life, straining against his trouser close. Staggered, he rocked back on his heels. “But, you…” Gesturing inanely, he scrubbed a bead of sweat from his temple. “You were, I was too, that is—”
“Shh.” She crawled to him on her hands and knees, a bloody dream if there ever was one. “You were tooeverything. And it’s been the most extraordinary afternoon of my recollection.” Halting before him, she pressed her mouth to his, her lips open, pulling him into a kiss that hadhimpalming the floor to steady himself. “So, that’s what I taste like,” she whispered and drew back enough to stare into his eyes.
Her smile was feral, the sated flush staining her cheeks telling a lewd story.
His heart caught, his groan streaking free. He hadn’t hurt her. He’d shown her the untamed man, not the guarded duke, and she’d liked it. Likedhim.
“Where have you been all my life, Clarissa Marlowe?”
She ran her tongue over her teeth, toying with him. “At the Petal and Plume on Bond Street, Your Grace. I started assisting in the shop when I was seven, in fact.”
He frowned, truly puzzled, and so aroused, that crouching in this position was fast becoming an impossibility. He flexed his fingers, the piquant aroma of her drifting past his nose. It was a crude gesture, but she caught his meaning. “I didn’t hurt you?”