Page 73 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke
The interior was simple but comfortable: a single room with a stone hearth, a sturdy oak table with two chairs, a narrow bed tucked against the wall, and shelves piled with books and oddities he had collected over the years. Sunlight filtered through the small windows, illuminating motes of dust that danced in the air.
“No one else has ever been here,” Leo said quietly as Beatrice stepped inside. “Not even Adrian.”
She turned to him, understanding the importance of what he was sharing. “Thank you for showing me.”
“I needed a place that was mine alone,” he added, watching as she moved around the space, trailing her fingers over the table he had crafted himself. “Somewhere with no family history, no ducal responsibility. Just… me.”
“It suits you,” she observed, examining a chess set carved from driftwood. “There’s an honesty to it.”
Leo closed the door behind them, suddenly acutely aware of their isolation, of the intimacy of sharing the space that had been his alone for so long. “I used to disappear here for days. The staff knew not to search for me.”
“Is that why you brought me here?” she asked teasingly. “So, we can disappear together?”
He closed the distance between them in two strides, unable to resist the pull of her any longer. His mouth found hers with urgent need, his hands cradling her face as he poured into the kiss everything he couldn’t say yet.
Beatrice responded with equal fervor, her fingers clutching at his coat, drawing him closer. When they broke apart, both breathing heavily, her eyes were dark with desire.
“Here?” she whispered, glancing around the cabin.
“Here,” he confirmed, already undoing the fastenings of her dress. “Where no one will hear us. Where you can be as loud as you wish.”
She laughed breathlessly, helping him with the buttons. “Is that a challenge, Your Grace?”
“A promise,” he murmured against her throat, reveling in the shiver that ran through her.
They undressed each other with increasing urgency, garments falling to the floor in careless disarray. When she stood naked before him, backlit by the sunlight streaming through the window, Leo felt that same tightening in his chest—a sensation both painful and exquisite.
“You’re staring,” Beatrice noted, though she made no move to cover herself.
“I’ll never tire of looking at you,” he said simply.
He lifted her onto the table, its sturdy surface perfect for what he had in mind. Beatrice gasped as the cool wood met her bare skin, but her surprise quickly gave way to anticipation as Leo knelt before her.
“What are you—” Her question dissolved into a moan as his mouth found her center, his tongue tracing deliberate patterns on her sensitive flesh.
Leo gripped her thighs, holding her open to his attentions as she writhed above him. Her hands tangled in his hair, alternately pushing him away and pulling him closer as pleasure built inside her.
He had learned her body well these past weeks, knew precisely how to drive her to the edge and keep her teetering on the precipice.
“Leo,” she gasped, her voice breaking around his name. “Please?—”
He doubled his efforts, focusing on the spot that made her thighs tremble against his shoulders. When she came, her cry echoed through the small cabin—uninhibited, primal, perfect.
Before she could recover, Leo rose and entered her in one smooth thrust, swallowing her gasp with a kiss. The table creaked beneath them as he settled into a rhythm, her legs wrapping around his waist to draw him deeper.
“God, Beatrice,” he groaned into her mouth. “You feel?—”
“I know,” she breathed, meeting each thrust with equal fervor. “I know.”
They moved together with increasing urgency, the small cabin filled with the sounds of their pleasure—the slap of skin against skin, breathless endearments, the steady thud of the table against the floor. When Leo felt himself approaching the edge, he slowed, determined to bring her with him.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly, one hand coming up to cup her face. “I want to see you.”
Her eyes, dark with desire, locked onto his as he resumed his movements, each thrust deliberately angled to hit the spot that made her gasp. The intimacy of their stare pushed him closer to the brink, but he held back, waiting, watching for the telltale signs of her release.
When it came, her eyes widened, her lips parting in a silent cry before pleasure overwhelmed her completely. The sight of her coming undone triggered his climax, wave after wave of intense sensation washing over him as he buried himself deep inside her.
They remained joined afterward, their foreheads pressed together as their breathing gradually slowed.