Page 52 of The Duke's Tempting Widow
Lydia could only manage a hummed assent to his words, her heart skipping a beat as he attempted a third finger, her body accommodating, somewhat slower than before, but she was determined. Everything that he could give to her, she wouldaccept, and then some. If he was not careful, she would lose the ability to stand entirely as pleasure assaulted her—burning her from the inside out in the best possible way.
“Pl—” she began, the word pushed into the skin of her arms as she wiggled her hips back into him slowly.
“What was that, my love?”
She would be damned if she could nothearthe smirk in his voice as he teased her, his movements slower than before, and she slowly started to drift away from the climax that he had been building her toward.
“Wes…”
“Not yet, my love,” he teased, using his thumb to stimulate her as he kissed a reverent curve over the inside of her thigh and worked his way back to her center. When he reached his thumb, his lips closed over that bundle of nerves, sucking softly and flicking it with his tongue—and she almost buckled.
“Not yet,” he repeated, stopping once more to let her drift away. She was going to go mad if he did not stop the torture. She was going to let go of the bedpost, grab him by his hair and force him to do as she was craving. Her patience felt poised on a razor’s edge. Only when she could no longer stop the trembling in her thighs did he switch.
Weston rolled to his feet in a fluid motion, his hands never leaving her skin as his fingers raced up the back of her legs and over the soft curve of her rear, squeezing the flesh there firmly. She could feel herself damned near dripping down her legs. She attempted to entice him just a little, rolling her hips back in his direction.
The soft rustle of fabric as he pulled his shirt off and undid the front of his trousers was music to her ears. Lydia nearly buckled for a second time as she felt Weston free himself from his confines, the hard length of him slipping so easily between her thighs, where she was more than ready for him.
He took her slowly, pushing softly to the point that she was whimpering with need. It would be so simple to just reach back and pull him closer—she neededmore.
“Impatient, my love?” he asked, pushing her dress up and over her waist, letting it be held in her hands once it was over her head. He kissed all along the curve of her spine, nipping softly at her skin here and there as he went. His hands explored upward, cupping her breasts and massaging as he fully entered her.
If he did not start moving and swiftly, she might very well lose her mind after all.
“Hold on tightly,” he encouraged, as his hands moved back to her hips, holding her firmly in place as he gave her everything that she wanted and then some. Lydia’s eyes nearlyrolled into the back of her head and her grip tightened on the post… as he thrust into her again, and again.
Each snap of his hips felt like he was going impossibly deeper, the heat in her belly building higher and higher. Weston’s strong, calloused hands slid down her hips and around her thighs, using one hand to keep her upright and still before the other stealthily moved for her swollen bundle of nerves.
It did not take much before she was wholly and utterly undone. She forgot how to breathe entirely as her orgasm ripped through her. Weston was the only thing keeping her upright, having been so close before and been denied, it was like the pleasure was heightened. His name left her lips in a scream as she clenched around him—and he followed soon after.
Still inside of her, he banded a hand around her waist, pulling her back into his chest as he pulled her hands off of the banister and her dress fell to the floor in a pool of satin. Weston slipped free, the dribble of the pair of their climaxes running down the inside of her thighs. Her legs were weak, but she knew that they were far from finished when he pulled her down onto the bed.
Every night, for the rest of her life she could have this. Have him. She would have it no other way.
THE END?