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Page 31 of Tantalizing the Duke

Milly wrapped her arms around him, losing herself in the promise of his embrace. They shifted on the settee, all thought of other lovers, past or future, vanishing in the heat of the present moment. Her hands slipped beneath his shirt, finding the warmth of his skin and the rapid beat of his heart.

“Milly,” Dainsfield whispered, her name a benediction and a plea. His hands moved with purpose, his urgency a match for hers. He lowered her to the floor, where the world narrowed to the two of them, the fire, and the untamed, glorious hunger that neither could deny.

Her gown slid from her body, an elegant tumble of fabric and desire. Dainsfield took his time, savoring the act of undressing her as he would a rare delicacy. Milly lay on the floor, the firelight painting her skin in tones of bronze and warmth. She watched him with eager eyes, the intimacy of his gaze nearly as erotic as his touch. He worshiped her with his hands and his mouth, each kiss a declaration more profound than words. Milly arched against him, her body a symphony of longing and love, her voice a soft and urgent chorus. He smiled against her skin, feeling the rush of satisfaction that came with knowing he had driven all other thoughts, all other lovers, from her mind.

He traced his lips along the swell of her breasts, savoring the softness, the taste, the way her breath caught in her throat. Her nipples were already taut, eager for his attention, and he obliged them with tender, possessive flicks of his tongue. Milly’s fingers curled into his hair, a wordless plea for more, for everything. He obliged again, moving slowly down her body, worshiping each inch as if it were sacred and his alone.

Her stomach, her hips, the sensitive skin along the line of her thigh—he kissed and licked and sucked, delighting in the shivers that followed the trail of his mouth. Milly’s voice rose in sweet, breathless notes, her body moving beneath him with a grace and abandon that made him dizzy with desire. He paused, meeting her gaze with a smoldering intensity that made her shudder before he touched her again. She arched toward him, each motion an expression of the longing that only he could satisfy.

Dainsfield took her wrists, pinning them gently above her head as he moved between her legs. She gasped his name, and it was more intoxicating than the finest wine, more compelling than any desire he’d ever known. Her cry became a wordless plea, and then it was nothing but the rhythm of her quickening breaths, the wild, untamed song of her pleasure.

He worshiped her with his tongue, his mouth, the relentless devotion of his touch. Milly writhed beneath him, her fingers tangling in his dark hair, her body yielding and taut in the same urgent, perfect moment. He felt the first trembling waves as they coursed through her, then the great, full flood that followed. Her cry filled the room, raw and exquisite, and he held her to him, drinking in the essence of her climax and the sheer, wild beauty of her release.

Milly lay in a delicious sprawl, her skin flushed and her heart still racing as he rose above her. Dainsfield made quick work of his clothing, a man in the thrall of an urgency that could no longer be contained. His shirt fell to the floor, revealing the hard, muscular planes of his chest, the powerful lines of a body that seemed sculpted by some passionate and generous hand.

She watched, her eyes dark with anticipation, as he removed his trousers. His erection was bold and fierce, a testament to his desire and the promise he’d made her. “You’re beautiful,” Milly breathed, each word colored with awe and yearning.

Dainsfield smiled, a rakish twist of his lips as he moved over her. “Not quite as beautiful as you,” he said, claiming her mouth with a kiss that was both tender and possessive, a declaration that was both challenge and surrender.

She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him to her with a need that was nearly desperate. He thrust into her, and the world seemed to splinter and reform, leaving nothing but the exquisite joining of their bodies. Milly gasped, each sensation heightened by the love she saw reflected in his eyes, by the passion she felt in every powerful stroke.

Her fingers dug into his back, urging him on as he drove into her with an intensity that matched her own. She moved beneath him, her hips rising to meet his, the wet, hot slide of their bodies setting the rhythm of their hearts. Dainsfield’s breath came in rough, fervent pants, and he knew he would never want another the way he wanted her.

Their climax built between them, an unstoppable force that drew them together with ever-increasing urgency. Milly’s cries grew louder, uninhibited and wild, and he reveled in the sound of them, in the knowledge that he alone could provoke such joy. He thrust harder, faster, feeling the tension coil and explode as they reached the peak together.

It was everything he had hoped and everything she had longed for. They remained entwined, their limbs a glorious tangle, the rug a haphazard testament to their love. The fire burned low, a warm and gentle glow, but neither of them noticed as they held each other close.

“You’re the only man I could ever love,” Milly whispered, her breath a soft caress against his cheek.

Dainsfield smiled, a happiness so profound it almost frightened him. “And you’re the only woman I’ll ever want,” he replied, sealing the promise with a kiss as deep and tender as the bond that would unite them forever.

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