Page 27 of The Duke Steals a Bride (Stolen by the Duke #5)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“S tay where you are. I want to look at you.”

Christine jumped, startled, as his growl issued through the dim light of his chambers. She could just make out his tall, commanding figure, before hearing the soft click of the lock on the door.

“We need light,” he drawled, his voice husky, reaching her as if from a far distance. “Do not move.”

She obeyed, staying in the same position as he lit candles, so many of them, one after the other, each one flickering to life in the darkness. They blurred and jumped in her vision.

Taking a deep breath, she started to count them as they flared to life, trying to control the nerves leaping to life in her belly.

She gasped, jumping. He was standing in front of her now, his eyes narrowed. He didn’t speak for a long moment.

Abruptly, he grabbed her, turning her around, so that her back was facing him. She held her breath as he slowly started unlacing her gown, his fingers fumbling slightly, before it fell to the floor with a soft silky rustle, lying in a pool around her feet.

Slowly, he started unlacing her corset, as well. She exhaled as it fell apart. He tossed it across the room in one swift move.

She jumped again, feeling his hands on her shoulders, slipping down the straps of her chemise. It fell to the floor, as well. Now all she was wearing was her silk stockings. She shivered again.

He turned her around, his eyes staring at her avidly in the flickering candlelight, taking in her full breasts, the nipples hardened by the breeze, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, slowly traveling downward, resting on the dark golden vee of hair which covered her sex.

She felt the flush rising over her body, the instinctive urge to cover herself with her hands, to hide herself from view. It was the first time a man had ever seen her naked and she didn’t know what to do. She turned her head away, her heart pounding uncomfortably, focusing on a candle.

“Look at me.” His voice was a curt command. “Christine.”

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to obey him. It wasn’t easy. His eyes were smoldering.

“Do not hide yourself from me,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire, his eyes hungry, taking in every inch of her. “You are divine.”

She shivered again, not knowing whether she could believe him—if she should believe him. How could it be true? And yet, his voice rang with sincerity.

He took her hand, leading her to the tall four-poster bed. Her eyes strayed to the pillows and blankets and the billowing canopy. His bed. Every night he slept here, while she was marooned in the adjoining room. He had seemed so very far away. As if an entire ocean separated them, rather than just a thin wall.

And now, here she was. He had let her in, at long last.

Gently, he pushed her onto the bed. She watched, with a racing heart and wide, startled eyes, as he proceeded to undress hastily, flinging garments across the room, his eyes never leaving hers for a moment. It was as if she were pinned to the spot.

She gasped, his body finally revealed to her, in all its magnificent glory. Her eyes widened further as she took in the breadth of his shoulders, his brawny arms, his muscular chest, narrowing to his taut abdomen—and the dark hair below, from which jutted his rock-hard manhood.

“Oh, my,” she whispered, completely overcome.

He was so big .

He grinned wolfishly, his eyes narrowed.

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything,” he growled, his voice low and laced with authority. “Every second without you has been torture. I’ve been burning for you— aching —and it’s driving me to the edge.”

His hand slid down her arm, possessive and deliberate, his touch sending fire through her veins. His breath was hot against her skin, ragged with restraint.

“I’ve waited long enough. You don’t know what it’s cost me—holding back, pretending I could stay away. It’s been hell. And I won’t do it a moment longer.” His lips brushed her ear, his voice dark and commanding. “I need you, Christine. Now. Not tomorrow. Not later. Now. Or I swear, I’ll lose what little control I have left—and I won’t be gentle when I do.”

His hands were drifting up her legs as he spoke, opening them slowly, closing his eyes at the feel of her silk stockings. She held her breath. It seemed to take forever to reach her sex. Each imprint of his fingers upon her flesh felt like a scorch mark.

She moaned, tossing her head from side to side. The anticipation was unbearable. When he finally reached her, plunging his hand into her, she cried out, rising to meet him.

“I want to feel every single inch of you. And you’ll be a good girl and moan for me,” he growled, his other arm snaking out to pin her to the bed. “Understand?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

She bit her lip as he commenced caressing her again, flicking her most sensitive area, the epicenter of her pleasure, softly with his thumb. She couldn’t stop the low moan which escaped her lips. Shooting sparks of sweet delight flickered through her entire body.

“Mm, suddenly so compliant. Shall I make a habit of touching you there?” he said, a wicked grin spreading over his lips.

Suddenly, he withdrew his hand, straightening, rearing above her like an Adonis in the darkness, watching her carefully. It took all her strength not to beg him to continue.

“What…what are you doing?” she stammered, as he put his hands on her hips, moving her slightly on the bed.

“My eager little wife. Patience, darling. You’ll get exactly what you need,” he said, and suddenly, he moved her hips.

She watched, breath caught in her throat, as he eased her legs open and settled between them. The heat of him, the sheer presence of him, made her tremble with anticipation. She felt the thick, aching hardness of his manhood press against her slick, waiting center—then slide into her with a slow, deliberate thrust.

She gasped, her body arching to meet him, the stretch exquisite, but her readiness making it smooth, seamless.

He groaned, his eyes dark and wild, holding himself still for a moment, as though the pleasure of simply being inside her was too much to bear.

“So wet. So ready. You wanted this as badly as I did, didn’t you?” he said in a hoarse whisper.

She could only nod, the fullness of him overtaking her senses. Nothing had ever felt like this, like a single sensation completely conquering her.

And it was beyond delight.

Edwin pressed into her, slow and deliberate, his body rocking gently as he slid deeper. She gasped, the sensation unfamiliar—startling in its intensity—but not painful. It was exquisite. A union of flesh and heat that stole the breath from her lungs. She hadn’t imagined it could feel like this—so full, so consuming, so right.

The last hint of discomfort melted into the background, eclipsed by the overwhelming pleasure building inside her. Her breath came in soft, trembling sighs as she tried to savor every second, to memorize the feel of him moving within her.

He began to move, slowly at first—deep, rhythmic strokes that sent ripples of sensation through her. Then faster, and more demanding. She moaned, her head tossing against the pillow, her body straining to obey his command to stay still. But she couldn’t help it—her hips rose to meet him, desperate to take him deeper, to feel more.

Every thrust felt like he was claiming her, not just her body, but something far more intimate—her very soul. She clung to the edge of control, lost in the pleasure of him, the intensity, the connection that left her utterly undone.

His mouth brushed her ear, his voice low and rough with need.

“You feel like you were made for me,” he panted.

He drove into her harder, and she cried out, clutching at his shoulders.

“Every part of you… fits me perfectly. Do you feel that, sweetheart?”

Another thrust, deeper still, and she whimpered.

She could just make out his face in the candlelight. Suddenly, he bent over her, taking a nipple into his mouth, while still thrusting into her. He suckled furiously, gripping her back, pulling her closer to him, as if he wanted to climb into her body.

Christine whimpered in pleasure, closing her eyes, letting the unbelievable twin sensations—the suckling and the thrusting—consume her.

A hot sweat broke out all over her body, and she was straining again, clawing his back, climbing higher toward that sweet pinnacle. It was far more intense with him inside her, almost overwhelming.

“That’s my good little wife. Take it, darling. Take all of me,” he growled between thrusts, his words sending shivers all over her body, intensifying each dizzying wave of pleasure he sent through her.

For a brief moment, she felt as if she couldn’t endure it, before it abruptly broke, and the pinnacle of her ecstasy swept through her body, causing her to buck wildly, crying out.

“Yes, come for me, wife. Take all your pleasure,” he commanded, and she gripped his back, hanging on for dear life, as she rode the wave of sensation, over and over again.

She was slick with sweat now, her whole body flushed. He gripped her for a moment, moving hard against her, sliding deeper again, before finally convulsing, crying out in the moment of his ecstasy, his face a mask of satisfied wonder.

They fell back against the bed, panting hard. It took her a long time to catch her breath properly. Tiny tingles were jolting through her body, like aftershocks from an earthquake.

She stared at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. She had never felt so good in her life—utterly content, like a cat basking in the sun.

Her eyelids started to droop. She felt like turning and crawling into a ball, letting this sweet exhaustion take over.

Instead, she fought against the urge, turning to look at him in wonder, her eyes feasting on his muscular beauty, before coming to rest on his manhood. Her eyes widened in incredulity, unable to believe now that he had actually been inside her body.

Her heart shifted. She felt changed, transformed, not quite herself any longer. She had been reborn. And he was the one who had molded her into this new, exhilarating life.

Her eyes flickered toward his face, tensing slightly. She was starting to feel shy again. What was he going to say to her?

“Christ, look at you… wrecked for me. So beautiful,” he mumbled, his eyes-half closed as he ran his fingers down her cheeks.

She studied his face for a long moment, memorizing every line and curve, from the sweep of his eyelashes to the dark stubble on his jaw.

Is this what love feels like? This complete adoration? Wanting to become one entity with the beloved?

Startled by the thought, she bit her lip.

No, it cannot be true love. I am probably just overwhelmed by the experience. I have never felt closer to anyone in my life. After all, it was a very intimate thing.

Her heart turned over in her chest. It had all happened so quickly—she had never expected this. She had thought he would avoid her forever, insisting they maintain a marriage of convenience. But now, they had made love—and it had been the most wonderful experience of her life.

Everything had changed between them. And she no longer knew how she felt about him…except that her feelings had deepened immeasurably.

“Penny for your thoughts, little mouse,” he whispered.

She gulped. “Oh, I was not thinking about anything at all…”

“Then let us not think about anything at all together,” he whispered, reaching for her, his voice husky.

He pulled her to him abruptly, sweeping her into his arms, looking down at her intently.

“Let us not speak,” he whispered. “We still have the rest of the night.” He paused. “Let tomorrow take care of itself.”

She sighed, nestling in his arms, and closed her eyes.

Yes, tomorrow will take care of itself. It must.