Page 12 of The Duke’s Goddess (Duke Dare #2)

“The wise warrior avoids the battle.”

—Sun Tzu

WHAT THE HELL HAD he been thinking? This plan was a terrible idea. Who the devil had come up with it? James was inwardly shaking his head. He couldn’t recall who had suggested the tryst. Or who had recommended that they both wait out in the garden to ensure the tryst happened. Who had picked the hiding place? Why did this have to happen at night? Darkness hid many things, but not a swelling cock building against the backside of the heat-emanating woman pressed into him.

James would have to be absolutely delirious to think Joan didn’t feel his hardness pushing into her bottom, but he couldn’t do anything about it. There was no wiggle room. Well, there was some wiggle room if he wanted to be honest about it. Wiggling room. Grinding room. Ahem—but there was no room to wiggle away from her. The best he could do was try to think of conjugating latin verbs or regurgitate math formulas. But for the life of him, he couldn’t think of one. What even was Latin? Math? Numbers, right?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly into her ear.

And perhaps that was the wrong thing to do because he felt her shiver. And that small shiver shook her all the way down her spine and settled into a jiggle of her bottom. Which, as he was all too well aware, was resting snuggly around his throbbing cock.

And he shouldn’t do it, because really, based on what just happened, another whisper didn’t make the most sense, yet he did it anyway, “Don’t move, Joan.” If she moved too much he was afraid he was going to embarrass himself.

Another shiver. Another jiggle. A thicker cock. A groan from the back of his throat.

The once thought to be chilly night air was growing thick and hot. He could feel Joan’s bosom inhaling and exhaling, nearly panting, just above his forearm. What he wouldn’t do to raise his arm to feel the underside of her breasts. Even clothed, he knew he would revel in their heaviness.

But he was using all of his self-control to remain a statue. If he could just hold it together while Sally and Jacob kissed. Oh God, they were moaning louder now. James could hear the rustling of fabric being hitched up. It was difficult to see what was happening through the rose bushes, but he could see Jacob lifting Sally. And he was pretty sure her legs were wrapped around his friend’s waist now. And…nope…he didn’t want to admit it, but it really did look like Jacob’s breeches were pooled at his feet. And…oh, yes…there was some grunting and… devil take it…thrusting action. Yes, that was definitely happening.

There was no denying it.

When James and Joan had discussed the innocence of a shared kiss between Sally and Jacob, they were excited for the couple. Not as excited as the couple was currently displaying, but giddy that love might bloom. Well, yes, something was blooming right now. James didn’t particularly want to identify the number of thickening cocks in the vicinity, and he could only hope that Joan had her eyes (and somehow her ears) shut so that she didn’t—

And then the unthinkable happened. Joan’s hand grasped his–desperately. He could feel the tension in her grip. Panic. But a controlled panic. And slowly, inch by inch, she drew his hand up to her breast. He knew what she was doing but couldn’t believe it was actually happening. She was initiating something with him. Something sensual. And he wanted it. The desperation emitted from her clinging hand, was a reflection of the desperation he felt in his heart—no, not his heart. His…well, definitely his cock. He wanted this woman, and he was about to have her. If he let her take control. He inhaled a ragged breath and softly exhaled in anticipation. His fingers were a hair’s width away from her breasts. Breasts that he didn’t want to admit he had dreamt of last night. Massaging those creamy mounds. Licking. Nipping. Sucking her nipples into his mouth. Those had just been innocent—all right, not so innocent , but they hadn’t been a reality, so they were innocent enough. And now his dreams were coming true. If he let her…

He thought for the second time, he could let her, or he could stop her. If he stopped her, he might never know the weight of her breasts, the curve of them. The shape. If instead he let her move his hands, everything might change. Then again, it didn’t have to change. She knew he was a rake…so she knew what she was getting into. Continuing the debate in his mind, while his fingers were tempted to dig into the front of her ribs, he landed on the argument that would seal his fate.

If he denied her this, she would feel rejected. And he would never want to hurt her. He never wanted her to feel the sting of rejection. What he knew of Joan was that she was a lady. An innocent. And here she was, finding courage to make a move. He could never deny her that.

So he let her.

The second his palm cupped her breast, he felt her body melt into him. His head fell back against the wall. Relief surged through him. Just to touch her. This indomitable, curious, cautious woman who was not acting cautiously at all with him.

He wanted her to sink into him. He wanted to bear her weight. Her burdens. He wanted her to let him in…in every way.

But then she moaned. And the moan was just a little too loud to go unnoticed.

“Joan, you must be quiet.”

“Don’t stop,” she mumbled.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to, but you must be quiet. Can you be a good girl and do that for me, Joan?” He lightly pinched her nipple to test her.

A muffled moan caught in her throat, and she nodded.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispered in her ear. Not holding back now. He let his breath rush in her ear while waiting for her body to tremble. “That’s a good girl,” he said, soothing her quivering body. With one hand on her breast and one still covering her mouth, he asked, “I’m going to use both of my hands on you now.”

The back of her head pressed into his chest, nodding.

Before he indulged, he took one of her hands and brought it up behind his neck so she had a part of him to hang onto. To cling to. To dig her nails into. And she did just that kind of digging, the second he brought his hand to her breast and squeezed,

For sure, he thought she would moan too loudly, but he was proud of her when he saw her tighten her lips, sealing any sounds from escape. But when she arched her breasts into his hands, he almost lost control entirely.

He tugged on her bodice. When nothing happened, he growled quietly in disappointment. Not to be deterred, he dipped his finger into the bodice and pulled out one of her plump breasts. For a brief second, he thought he was going to come in his breeches at the sight of the most perfect breast he had ever seen. It was too dark to discern the exact color of her nipple, but he could see its turgid peak. And that pert nipple needed to be sucked.

He rolled her nipple between his fingertips, feeling himself harden even more.

“Joan,” his hoarse words crawled through the air. “If you want more, turn around.” Her body tensed, and he wasn’t sure if he had scared her away. He had told himself that he only let her make her move because she was the one in control. And he could only hope this invitation to turn around wasn’t removing that control from her hands. So he waited. He didn’t nudge her at all. Just…waited.

And then gradually she turned around. Her head down, he couldn’t read her emotions. He desperately wanted to tip her chin up to look at him, but he wanted her to have control. So he waited again. Finally, she inclined her head. And his breath caught in his throat.

A few loose locks of hair framed her face as half-lidded eyes lazily looked up at him. Not in embarrassment as he was loath to predict, but in desire. And that’s all the encouragement he needed.

He pressed his back into the wall and sunk into a shallow squat, opening his legs for her to straddle. He lowered his head to her breast, pausing an inch from her nipple. He let out a soft breath, and looked up at her, licking his bottom lip. Waiting again.

With one hand she cradled her breast, with the other, she pulled the back of his neck toward her nipple.

He started with a soft lick. Then a flick of her nipple. When her head dropped back and she moved closer to him, he pulled her breast into his mouth.

A whimper threatened her lips, so he pulled away.

“I’ll be quiet,” she vowed, arching herself into him.

He lowered in his squat, finding her skirts and lifting them so that he could brace his hands on her hips. Then he lifted her to straddle him. Ye gods, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this hard. The last time he had ever desired a woman in this way. To these depths.

“James,” the soft pleading sound of his name on her lips was his undoing.

“How much do you want, Joan?” He wanted to give her everything. Whether that made him a cad or generous, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it made him both. Her body pressed into him. Her breath warming his skin. Her hands tantalizing him. He wanted to show her pleasure. Pleasure he knew she had never experienced. He would be her first. He would be the one to introduce her to a world that no man had ever—could ever—show her. She would call his name. Dig her nails into his skin. Writhe on his body. And right now, he wanted nothing more than everything with her.

And then a thought shook him.

He could be the first one.

Or.

He could be the only one.

His body quivered. The shock of the thought. The chill in the air. Her body’s responsiveness to him. All of it. He thought he was ready for her answer, but when she spoke, his heart grew wings and fluttered rapidly in his chest.

“Give me pleasure, James.” Her cheek was pressed to his, and her hands were affixed to his shoulders.

He gazed at her face. “Give me your lips, Joan.”

She sighed, parting her lips and leaning into him. Slowly at first, he placed a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth. But she tasted too sweet, emanated too much heat for him to go slow for long. His tongue tangled in her mouth exploring her. Discovering the depths of this complex woman. A woman who made him laugh, peaked his curiosity, and communicated so effortlessly with. She was like nothing he had ever expected. What was he a greenboy with no experience? But feeling this woman now, he sensed he had never really been with a woman before her.

And she was taking control again. Her body was rubbing against him, finding pleasure in the friction building between his cock and her slit.

The urgency was building. He could feel his pleasure pooling at the bottom of his spine and the tightening at the base of arousal. And he knew she was about to find the pleasure she had asked him for because she ripped her mouth from his and was rubbing her wet self on him. Her breasts bouncing in his face, he panted, “Take it, Joan. Be a good girl and come for me.”

Her moans built until he didn’t think he could take it anymore. She threw her head back and he nipped at the column of her neck. Wanting to mark her skin, he herded all of his self control and held back, desperately needing to protect her from what scandal that mark might cause.

Her throaty groans blew life into his hardened heart. He could feel it—himself, his ice walls—melting under her heat. Heat from her body, but more than that, heat from her essence. Who she was. Joan. He wanted to own this heat. Access it whenever he needed it.

“James, what you’re doing to me…”

She didn’t finish the thought, only shifted and rubbed herself against him deeper. He had wanted more. Everything from her. But in this moment, he knew he couldn’t handle that much of her. This. Her taking her pleasure and finding a new world with him. That was what he needed right now. The edges of his mind darkened at the amount of pleasure he absorbed from her.

And just when he knew she was about to find release, he covered her mouth again with his to stifle the sounds that would inevitably come out of her. That’s what he told himself. But it was equally to muffle the groan that was being wrenched from his body as he felt his cock explode in his breeches.