Page 77 of Never Beguile a Duke

“It’s still my turn,” he managed through the blazing inferno that raged through his body.

Slowly, he rocked backward, extracting himself from her center, then drove forward, plunging deep. His fingers entwined with hers, holding her hands to the mattress, and he continued the slow pace, retracting and thrusting as she thrashed beneath him.

“Silas,” she moaned, her hands clenching as her head tipped back.

He complied with her unspoken request, pushing her legs further apart as he sunk deeper into her warmth.

She cried out and jerked beneath him, lifting her hips to meet his next thrust.

Three days wouldn’t be enough time to rid this woman from his blood. In all truth, three decades wouldn’t cure the craving. Every thrust only served to increase his desire, and if he had to tie her to his bed and wring pleasure from her until she couldn’t move or speak, he would do so to prevent her from leaving.

The fire blazing across his skin intensified, his body demanding release, and he slammed into her, his speed increasing with each moan he wrung from her lips.

Her legs tightened around him, her muscles contracting as she rocked with him. Hands clenching, her fingernails dug into the back of his hands, and she yelled, vibrating uncontrollably when the orgasm ripped through her.

His name echoed through the bedchamber, and he thrust with abandon, rapidly speeding toward his own satisfaction. As he drove into her relentlessly, she gasped, crying out again, and flung her head back, her trembling body quaking beneath him.

“Please,” she begged, struggling against the grip pinning her wrists to the bed.

“Please who?” he ground out, each thrust drawing a moan from her.

“Silas!” she screamed as a second orgasm crashed down on her.

He drove himself into her again and again, prolonging her release until her voice gave out. Then his body went rigid, and he plunged forward one final time, yelling her name and collapsing on top of her.

Once his haphazard breathing subsided, he pushed up on his arms, removed the blindfold from her face, and brushed his mouth across hers.

“If you don’t have any other plans for the remainder of this evening,” he said, bumping his nose against hers, “I’d like to make a second attempt.”

“At seduction?” Her voice cracked. “You did quite well on this first endeavor.”

“I’m aware.” He grinned and tucked a stray brown hair behind her ear. “However, I can do better.”

“Better?” She raised her eyebrows. “How are you unmarried?”

He laughed, yanked up his drawers, and sat on the edge of the bed.

“The ladies I’ve previously had relations with, including Juliette’s mother, were not interested in matrimony.” He drew the coverlet over Miss Fernsby-Webb. “Not unlike yourself.”

“With an ability like that, I’m surprised none of their minds could be swayed,” she said, shivering as his fingers caressed her bare shoulder.

“Could yours?” he asked, his throat constricting as he waited for her reply.

“Miss Fernsby-Webb!” Mr. Hollingsworth’s drunken voice echoed down the corridor. “You owe me a response!”

Pounding on the first door nearest the main staircase, Mr. Hollingsworth yelled again. “I’m not leaving until I speak with you!”

Miss Fernsby-Webb whipped into a sitting position, her eyes rounding, and she grabbed Silas’ hand. “You must stop him. He’ll wake the house. If we’re discovered together, the results will be devastating.”

“Is that what you consider a marriage to me would be?” Silas asked, his voice soft. “Devastating?”

A tiny line appeared between her eyes. “It would cost you ten thousand pounds.”

“The sum doesn’t concern me.” He glanced at the door as Mr. Hollingsworth bellowed a third time, torn between revealing his affection for her and dealing with the burgeoning situation in the corridor.

Roxburghe took the choice away from him.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN