Page 66 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke

“There,” she gasped, already overwhelmed with the sensations coursing through her. “Right there…”

Leo braced himself above her, his powerful body moving with increasing urgency. The tendons in his neck stood out, his jaw clenched as he fought for control. But his eyes never left hers, dark and fierce with something that looked almost like worship.

“You’re mine,” he growled, punctuating the words with a particularly deep thrust. “Say it, Beatrice. Say you’re mine.”

She was too lost in the pleasure, too consumed by him, that she did not think anything of his demand. In fact, she did feel like his at that moment.

How could she not, when he was all she could feel? When she was so full of him?

“Yours,” she gasped, her walls clenching around his length as if in concurrence. “Leo, I’m yours.”

The words seemed to break something inside him. His rhythm turned frantic, each thrust driving her higher. Beatrice clung to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as tension coiled tighter in her belly.

“Come for me,” he commanded. “Let me feel you come around me.”

His thumb found that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling with perfect pressure. The slide of him inside her, the focused attention on her pleasure, overwhelmed her. The tension snapped like a bowstring, pleasure exploding through her with devastating force.

She cried out his name, her walls clamping down on him. Leo groaned, his hips stuttering as her release triggered his own. She felt him pulse inside her and a warm liquid fill her, which made her melt even more.

He collapsed against her, careful to keep most of his weight on his elbows. “Beatrice,” he murmured against her neck. “My God, Beatrice?—”

She held him close, running her fingers through his damp hair. “I know,” she whispered. “I know.”

They lay tangled together as their breathing slowed and reality gradually reasserted itself. Leo rolled onto his side, pulling her with him so they lay face to face.

“I should probably say something,” he murmured.

“You don’t need to.” Beatrice pressed her fingers to his lips. “Unless you want to say that you liked it.”

The look Leo fixed her with made her nipples pebble almost at once.

“Liked it?” he echoed, his voice dangerously low as he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “My beautiful Duchess, I already want to do it again.”

Her heart stuttered and picked up speed at the stark desire in his eyes. It was just as naked as they were. “Leo?—”

“Now, about the agreement we had, the one where we’d live separate lives once Philip was found?”

“Yes?” Beatrice murmured.

“I have several amendments to propose.” His hand skimmed down her side, reigniting the embers of desire. “Starting with you never sleeping in a separate bed again.”

“That seems reasonable.”

“And you’re to stop calling me ‘Your Grace’ when we’re alone. It’s Leo. Just Leo.”

“Oh, I think we’re way past that now.” She smiled, pulling him closer. “Leo,” she whispered.

She didn’t quite expect the possessive way her tongue wrapped around his name, but it seemed to undo him completely.

“Damn,” he groaned, and she felt his manhood stiffen against her stomach almost immediately. “Open for me, my siren, for I must have you again.”

Beatrice started to laugh, but the sound caught in her throat when his fingers found her nether lips and parted them.

She gasped, her legs falling open a little wider to accommodate him. And when she felt him press against her entrance again, she knew that she would be getting any sleep that night.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Must you read every single book in the library?”