Page 51 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)

T hey arrived back at the Payne townhouse soon after.

St. John had collected his wife and daughter and returned to his own home, promising to come back in the morning.

Gideon, on the other hand, had more tasks to complete.

Payne had generously offered to host them for the night, which was the most logical decision.

While Lady Payne showed Leila to her quarters, Gideon settled into the Payne’s study once more.

He requested a few pieces of paper to send two dozen notes to every member of The Shadows he knew.

The task was simple: To find Townsend.

To find Emir.

Then Gunning’s network of street boys would quickly distribute the notes.

If anyone could track down Townsend and Emir, it would be The Shadows.

Gideon finished the notes, then scribbled a letter to his solicitor before ambling upstairs.

Gideon and Leila had been given separate chambers, so he was surprised to find her pacing the length of his room like a caged panther when he entered.

She looked up, worry, nervousness, and fear etched into her features.

“What a pleasant surprise,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t know if I can sleep,” she admitted as he moved toward her.

“We need to get up early tomorrow,” Gideon coaxed, standing directly in front of her. He tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “You need to rest.”

“I know, but the more I think about it, the more nervous I become.” She chewed on her lower lip, her gaze uncertain.

He took her hands in his, his eyes falling to her reddened lips. “Perhaps you need a distraction.”

“A distraction?”

“Like this,” he said, lowering his head and kissing her lightly.

“I missed you,” he murmured against her lips.

“I was with you all day,” she replied in a breathy whisper.

His arm snaked around her waist. “That wasn’t enough.”

She lifted onto her toes, her palms gliding up his chest before clasping behind his neck, drawing him down into a slow, languid kiss. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer. The kiss deepened as she touched her tongue to his.

He groaned, angling her head for better access, his tongue devouring her mouth—wild, desperate, hungry for more. Gideon pulled her closer and hoisted her up until her legs wrapped around his hips. The harlot’s dress allowed her that freedom of movement, and suddenly, he was glad she was wearing it.

The impact of her body hitting his ribs made him wince, stealing his breath.

“Are you hurt?” she whispered, gently cradling his cheek.

“No,” he lied. “Perhaps a little.” There, he was closer to the truth.

He walked toward the bed and tumbled onto it, still holding Leila close.

She laughed, the sound healing something within his soul.

He exhaled, allowing his ribs to stop aching, then continued kissing her, their embrace turning hungrier, laced with ravenous need.

He clawed at her clothes, frustrated that he couldn’t reach more of her skin.

His right hand slipped under her skirt, skimming the soft skin of her thigh, while his left hand tugged at her bodice.

She kissed him eagerly, her tongue caressing his, their teeth clashing, then she bit his lip.

“I’ve missed you too,” she whispered. “Like this. Wild. Uninhibited. Like a wolf.”

He grinned and rolled on top of her, nudging her knees apart. She opened them wider, welcoming him into the cradle of her thighs.

Gideon pushed the skirt of the gown up until his fingers reached the place he’d desired.

She was already damp, his finger gliding easily along her feminine lips.

She gasped into his mouth when he touched her there, and he swallowed the sound greedily. His fingers parted her folds, teasing and exploring, then stroking in slow, firm circles. She whimpered, her hips grinding into his hand.

“Gideon,” she breathed, her voice pleading.

“Yes,” he rasped, pressing kisses to her throat and shoulder. “Let go. Let me feel you fall apart.”

He slipped two fingers inside her, curling them in a way that made her moan. His palm pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves, simulating suggestive rhythms with his fingers, the heel of his palm hitting her most sensitive spot with every thrust.

Her moans grew louder, needier, her thighs trembling. Her body clenched rhythmically, her hips jerking as he thrust his fingers deeper.

She came with a cry muffled against his neck, her entire body tightening around his fingers. He kissed her through it, holding her tightly and whispering reverent words in her ear.

“Beautiful… so fucking beautiful when you come.”

When the tremors subsided, he pulled his hand away, and she whimpered in protest.

He met her heavy-lidded gaze, brought his fingers to his mouth, and licked them clean.

Delicious. Sweet. His favorite taste.

Her eyes widened, her cheeks turning even redder than before.

Some strands of her hair stuck to her face and neck, so he nudged them away.

He loved the delicate curve of her neck, the way her pulse thudded against her skin. But he wanted more. He wanted to see all of her.

His hands trembled, his cock straining against the confines of his breeches, desperate to feel her skin, to slip inside her sweet, wet center.

The thought made something feral unfurl within him.

With one swift motion, he yanked at the bodice of her dress, the fabric ripping at the seams. She gasped as cool air kissed her bare skin, her breasts exposed to his eyes, her dark nipples hardening with need.

Beautiful. Simply beautiful.

She let out a yelp, her fingers reaching for the tattered dress. “Gideon, it’s not my dress!”

He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, growling between kisses, “I’ll buy them a new one.” A kiss. “Dozens of new dresses if they require.” Another deep kiss. “And a dozen more for you.” A long, breath-stealing kiss. “As long as I can rip them all off you.”

His hands skimmed the sides of her body, his knuckles grazing the underside of her breasts. He wanted to drive her mad with desire until she matched his fervor.

But she wasn’t easily led. She shifted beneath him, thrusting her breasts directly into his waiting palms.

Gideon chuckled but gave her exactly what she wanted, playing with her taut peaks, circling them, pinching them as she writhed beneath him with wild abandon.

He lowered his head and enveloped her breast in his mouth. Gideon couldn’t help but groan with pleasure, and she responded with an answering moan. The softness of her breast, the feel of her hardened peak, the taste of her salty skin ignited an insatiable need within him, ready to explode.

“I need you, Leila,” he rasped.

Leila gently pushed against his chest until he was lying on his back.

She hovered over him, kissing his lips and tasting his tongue with her own.

“Mmm…” She broke the kiss and stared at him with her passion-filled gaze.

She lightly ran her palms over his chest and down his sides, watching as he winced slightly at the dull ache.

He no longer wore a bandage under his shirt. His bruises weren’t as dark, but they still hurt during rigorous activities. In fact, he knew it was going to hurt if he wanted to fuck her properly.

And God, did he want to.

And he was willing to risk it. He was willing to risk it all for just a moment of pleasure in her arms.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.

“You’re the only thing that doesn’t,” he replied, and he meant it.

She sat back on her heels, her hair spilling over her shoulders and cascading down her back in waves. Gideon’s breath caught in his throat. She glowed in the dim light, her skin flushed with pleasure, her body bared for him.

“God,” he rasped, reaching up to trace the curve of her breast with the back of his fingers. “You are so damn beautiful, Leila.”

She undid the buttons of his waistband and slid his trousers down his hips. He was already hard, pulsing with need for her, and the way her fingers brushed against his length made his whole body jolt.

With infinite care, she took him into her hand. Gideon groaned, clutching the sheets, a brief pain flashing as he arched into her touch.

Worth it.

She moved her hand over him, squeezing and pumping, her eyes fixed on his cock, her tongue tracing her lips as if the hunger she felt for him was overwhelming.

Carefully, she climbed into his lap, straddling him. With one hand still clutching his length, she guided him inside her.

His mouth fell open in a gasp as she sank down inch by inch. Her breath stuttered, her hands clinging to his shoulders. They stayed like that for a moment—joined, completely still, with only the frantic rhythm of their hearts echoing between them.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, cradling her close. “Ride me,” he whispered hoarsely. “Bathe me in your essence. Take what you need.”

And she did.

Her hips began to roll in a slow, deep rhythm, her breath brushing against his cheek, her breasts grazing his chest. He couldn’t thrust—not with the pain lancing through his ribs—but she didn’t need him to.

She rode him, every motion purposeful and sensual, her body wringing pleasure from his battered form. His battered soul.

She was so fabulously wet, desire dripping from her, drowning his cock.

He kissed her again, his fingers twisting in her hair, drinking her in as if he’d never get another taste.

“You taste like sin,” he growled into her mouth.

“You feel like salvation,” she panted, grinding down harder, her eyes fluttering shut.

She broke the kiss and sat up, throwing her head back.

He groaned, gripping her hips, needing to feel every inch of her, needing to brand her onto his skin.

Her pace quickened, her movements rougher and more erratic. He reached between them, his fingers finding that sweet, swollen nub again, circling and pressing. She cried out, her whole body jerking as he pushed her higher.

“I want to see you come again,” he whispered. “Come for me. Right here. Right over me.”