Page 13 of Tantalizing the Duke (Wayward Dukes Alliance #22)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

M orning found them tangled in rumpled sheets, bodies like marble sculptures softened by the glow that seeped through the curtains. Milly’s cheek pressed against his chest, savoring the strong, steady rhythm beneath. Her own heart skipped when he touched her, tracing her nakedness with a languid possession. Desire sparked in the contact. She shifted, straddling him, the unbound grace of her figure as provocative as the promise of her nearness. Her mouth met his, fierce with the familiar, insatiable demand for more. Heat flared between them. His fingers found their way along her thighs, teasing at her clitoris with wicked precision. She gasped, wrapping her hand around his thickening cock, feeling it pulse and grow hard. The world around them melted, leaving only the rushing of blood, the mingling of breath, the way her hand moved on him and his on her, until urgency bloomed into need.

A languorous sigh escaped her as she nestled closer, the muscled expanse of his chest a satisfying counterpoint to her softness. His hands moved idly at first, exploring the curves he had mapped the night before with hunger. “And good morning to you, sir,” she murmured, smiling against his skin.

“Is it?” His voice, deep and resonant, held the gravel of early hours. He lifted a brow as his fingers continued their leisurely investigation. “It seems morning has come, and we are still here.”

“It is quite scandalous,” she said, feigning propriety, though the laughter in her eyes betrayed her. She stretched, the movement languid and feline, arching into his touch.

“Would you like me to leave?” His hand trailed over her back with a proprietary ease, unwilling to release her.

Milly caught his gaze, her expression both bold and tender. “I might allow you to stay,” she said, a sweet warmth coloring her words. “If you promise not to behave.”

His smile was slow, deliberate. “That is one promise I can make.”

Her laughter dissolved into a breathy moan as he rolled her beneath him, a cascade of hair spreading around her like a dark halo. He took a moment to savor the view—the graceful line of her neck, the elegant curve of her shoulder—before his mouth met hers in a kiss that smoldered with intention.

She met his gaze, unabashed and full of longing, her skin alive with the promise of his touch. She pulled him down, letting the delicious weight of him settle against her, the contact reigniting a spark that had merely slumbered. His hands, once idle, grew more intent, claiming every inch of her as if to commit her again to memory.

His mouth brushed against the shell of her ear. “You do not appear scandalized, Miss Nichols.”

Milly grinned, her eyes dark with mischief and desire. “Perhaps you are not trying hard enough.”

The challenge danced between them, and with a fluid motion, she pushed him back and straddled him. He marveled at her, at the way her skin seemed to glow with an inner light, her breasts swaying tantalizingly as she leaned to capture his mouth. His hands moved to her hips, gripping her firmly, her flesh yielding beneath his fingers. Her kiss was searing, her lips possessing his with a fervor that matched the restless energy coiling in his gut.

A low sound rumbled from his chest as her mouth left his and blazed a path along his jaw, his throat. Her boldness thrilled him, setting every nerve alight. His hands continued their exploration, skimming over her ribs, tracing the gentle slope of her waist, before seeking the heat pooling between her thighs.

She shivered as his fingers teased her, the motion both knowing and deliberate. “You—ah—you do try,” she breathed, her voice catching.

“Am I succeeding?” he asked, though he knew the answer.

She couldn’t form words, not when he touched her like that. She closed her eyes, losing herself to the sensation, to the artful, wicked circles he drew at her center. Her body moved of its own volition, a slow undulation that begged for more.

His own desire surged, a potent and urgent force that demanded release. He watched her face, the way her lips parted with each gasp, each sigh. Her pleasure was as intoxicating to him as any touch she could offer.

Her hand found him, hard and pulsing with need, and her boldness returned tenfold. She stroked him, slow at first, delighting in the way he grew impossibly harder under her palm.

Their breathing mingled, ragged and raw, echoing in the small space between their bodies. Her strokes quickened, matching the insistent rhythm of his fingers. The world outside their cocoon faded to nothing, leaving only the sensation, the heat, the exquisite tension that wrapped around them, pulling them inexorably toward bliss.

She rose above him, both luminous and wild, and all he could do was watch her. Milly hovered with exquisite patience, prolonging the ache of desire, until the weight of her longing overtook her and she sank down onto him. They groaned in unison, a perfect harmony of need fulfilled. Her breasts swung with each motion, her face a portrait of bliss that transfixed and maddened him in equal measure. She moved deliberately, slowly, and he tightened his grip on her hips to anchor himself against the storm of sensation. He filled his hands with her breasts, kneading and teasing until her head fell back, and her pace became frantic. When her movements faltered, he flipped her onto the bed, her gasp of surprise mingling with a deep moan as he drove into her. Their mouths crashed together, a collision of desire and impatience, and the room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, their breaths wild and frenzied.

She balanced on her knees, hovering over him, her body a tantalizing promise poised on the edge of fulfillment. The intimacy of the moment, the nearness of him, drove her mad with want. Her fingers brushed the sweat-damp hair from her face, the wild curls as untamed as her longing. “I thought perhaps I should continue misbehaving,” she said, her voice rich with mirth and need.

“Have mercy,” Dainsfield groaned, desire and desperation threading his words as he looked up at her with unabashed yearning.

Her laughter was sultry, her eyes dark with intent as she began to lower herself. She took her time, delighting in the exquisite torture she inflicted on them both, until she could stand it no longer. A gasp escaped her lips as he filled her, stretching her, the joining an electric, consuming thing.

He watched her, enraptured by the sway of her breasts, the flush of her skin, the sheer beauty of her taking her pleasure from him. His hands moved to her hips, anchoring her, claiming her, but it was she who claimed him with each downward thrust.

The sensation was dizzying, and he held on to her as if she might float away. “Look at you,” he marveled, a low, reverent murmur. “You are…”

The words escaped him, and she didn’t need them. She saw everything in his eyes.

She moved with a purpose that left him breathless, slow and deliberate, savoring each moment, each friction of skin against skin. His groans mingled with her own, a primal music that filled the room, until he couldn’t bear the sweet torment of her pace. He gripped her hips tighter, urging her to more, a lover’s impatience that set fire to them both.

She obliged, her movements becoming erratic, frenzied, driven by the urgent need coiling within her. Her hair fell in a wild, silken veil, obscuring her face until he reached up to smooth it away, revealing the full, unabashed ecstasy that he had put there.

“God, Milly,” he said, his voice raw and strained as he fought for control, every muscle tense and quivering. His hands traveled to her breasts, molding them, teasing them, his thumbs rolling over her nipples in a way that made her gasp and lose her rhythm.

He could feel the shudders beginning in her, the subtle tightening that promised her release was near. Her inner walls clamped around him, a delicious pressure that pulled him toward the brink of madness. He reveled in the knowledge, in the sensation, of her pleasure building to an impossible peak.

She threw her head back, a cry catching in her throat, and he held on, driving into her with upward thrusts that matched the frenzy of her movements.

The intensity grew almost unbearable. Her rhythm faltered, her body too consumed with impending climax, and he took the moment to act.

In one swift motion, he flipped them over, her surprised gasp transforming into a low, drawn-out moan as he pinned her to the bed. The sheets tangled around them like a lover’s knot, but they noticed nothing but the urgent, relentless connection of their bodies.

His mouth claimed hers in a fierce, possessive kiss that swallowed her cries, their breaths mingling in hot, desperate gasps. Her legs wrapped around him, holding him close, and her nails scored his shoulders, urging him on.

The control she had wielded so expertly now belonged to him, and he took it with a passion and tenderness that only made her want more. Each thrust was deep and sure, a testament to how much he adored her, how much he needed her.

Milly broke the kiss, her eyes locked with his, and the world narrowed to just this—the exquisite joining of two souls who were as greedy for each other as they were willing to give all they had.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, a whisper that fanned the flames of his desire, and Dainsfield was more than happy to obey.

The world vanished in the frenzy of their union, nothing existing but the punishing rhythm of their bodies, the guttural sounds of their pleasure, and the violent crescendo of their need. He filled her, every stroke deliberate and demanding, and she urged him on with a desperate abandon. The bed rattled beneath them, echoing the wild and primal tempo they set. Her cries grew sharper, her nails branding him as they raked over skin. Dainsfield was past caring about anything but the sweet and tightening pull of her around him. He bent to her ear, his voice low and raw, each word a push toward the edge. Milly’s release shattered her, and he followed, the shock of it so complete that the world came back in fragments: her breathless whimpers, his name on her lips, the sheets clinging to their damp bodies. They collapsed in a heap, a slow return from the frenzy, finding each other in languid kisses and whispered confessions.

Milly’s nails bit into his back as she drew him closer, needing every inch of him, every part of him, until nothing else mattered. “Yes—like that,” she gasped, her words a breathless plea and a satisfied moan.

He complied, his body surging into hers with a power and urgency that left him breathless. The headboard banged a steady percussion against the wall, but neither noticed, wrapped as they were in a cocoon of heat and sweat and the raw, consuming need for each other.

“Milly,” he groaned, her name a mantra, a prayer, as he felt her inner walls begin to quiver around him.

She cried out, her pleasure building into something huge and unstoppable. Her nails scored down his back, a wicked, glorious pain that only drove him harder.

The noise, the madness, the relentless rhythm—it filled the world until nothing else could enter. And he didn’t care. All that mattered was her, the tight and welcoming heat of her, the wild way she matched his pace with complete abandon.

He felt her trembling beneath him, every thrust met with the rising tide of her nearing climax. His mouth found her ear, each word a hot and desperate promise as he whispered how perfect she felt, how beautiful she was.

His encouragement spurred her on, and she moved with him in a perfect, frantic union. Her moans came faster, and he felt the surge of her release coming, building like a storm. He held on, giving her everything, waiting for the moment she’d take him over the edge with her.

It came like an explosion. She arched off the bed, her body bowstring taut as her orgasm shattered through her. She cried his name, loud and uninhibited, and he was lost.

The intensity of her release pulled him under, dragging him into a place where nothing existed but Milly. He spilled into her with a deep, guttural groan, the force of his own climax matching hers. They were unmade, undone, a perfect destruction that left them shaking and breathless and wonderfully alive.

He collapsed against her, spent and sated, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as if afraid he might vanish. Their breaths mingled in the warm space between them, each ragged exhale a shared confession.

“Milly,” he whispered again, his voice now soft and tender, the earlier frenzy melting into something sweet and unguarded.

She shifted beneath him, her skin slick with the sweat of their passion, but she made no move to pull away. Instead, she found his lips with her own, a gentle, lingering kiss that spoke of all the things they never said aloud.

“Don’t move,” she murmured when the kiss finally broke, the words half a command, half a plea.

He didn’t, savoring the delicious weight of her as they lay tangled together. It was a peace he had never known, a completeness he hadn’t dared hope for, and he had no desire to let it go.

He lifted his head to look at her, marveling at the flushed cheeks, the lips swollen from their ardor, the way her eyes glowed with a light that seemed to come from within. “You are too beautiful,” he said, a low and reverent admission.

Her laugh was a soft, contented sound. “And you are not as grumpy as you pretend,” she countered, a teasing lilt to her words.

“Mmm.” He nuzzled her neck, a lazy affection in the gesture as he shifted them onto their sides. The sheets clung to their bodies, a damp testament to their passion, but they barely noticed. “I am quite serious.”

“So am I.” She smiled, the expression so open and unguarded it made his chest ache. Her fingers brushed his cheek, an intimate caress that made him want to capture the moment and hold it forever.

They lay in silence, the only sound their breathing, slowing now to a tranquil, satisfied rhythm. He could feel the steady beat of her heart beneath his hand, and it felt like coming home.

“I love you,” she said finally, the words quiet but unwavering.

He kissed her again, tender and full of promise, a vow he intended to keep. “And I, you.”

They drifted in and out of a pleasant, dreamlike haze, finding each other in languid touches and shared warmth. Nothing could touch them, nothing could intrude on this perfect, stolen time, and for now, that was enough.