Page 17 of The Earl’s Tempting Ward (Dukes Gone Dirty #2)

17

I t was such a relief to have Philippa back in his bed again, Benedict let all his questions and concerns from earlier in the night fall by the wayside.

For the first time in days, she was back to being his Philippa. Teasing, brash, incorrigible…and intoxicating. Gone was the quiet, sad girl he’d be so worried about, and in her place was the vixen who’d first tempted him into her bed.

“What about this?” she asked as she stroked his cock. “Do you like it like that?”

He growled, burying his head between her breasts. “I like you touching me. However you want to touch me.”

“Then put it in my mouth again,” she said. “I love the way you taste.”

She let out a whimper when his mouth closed over her breast and he sucked hard on her tight, rosy bud. “Yes, more,” she gasped, her hands burying in his hair and holding him close.

More. He’d give her everything he had and more.

Her hips arched up. “I need you. I need all of you.”

He grinned against her luscious tit. This woman would be the death of him. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Her head fell back with a laugh when he rolled them so she was on top of him. They were half dressed, her gown falling off one shoulder and his shirt torn open. Her hair was half undone—she looked wild and wanton. Too good to be true.

He reached up and tore the gown even more so her breasts spilled free, and he drank in the sight of her.

Christ, she was gorgeous.

And she was his.

The thought had him growling, propping up on his elbows for another taste of her tight nipples.

She cried out, her hips rocking against his torso looking for relief.

His mother was in this house somewhere, and servants were everywhere, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about modesty. Their wedding day would be here soon enough, but it was much too far away to wait.

Her hands roamed over his chest. With anyone else, he might have flinched when she lingered on his scars, tracing the shape of them. Her gaze met his and it was filled with a question.

“Touch me,” he said. “Touch me however you like.”

Because I am yours.

Because you are mine.

He swallowed the words for another time. Their wedding night, perhaps. By then maybe she’d be more confident with this arrangement. Hopefully by then she’ll have fully embraced that this thing between them was real.

That their future would be a good one, despite their wretched pasts.

She took him at his word, her hands ruthless in their exploration until they were both panting with need. He went to take over, but she grabbed his hands and gave him a wicked grin. “Let me.”

He chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender and tucking them under his head as she bent down and kissed every inch of him that she’d just touched.

Her lips were a brand, hotter than the fire that had melted his skin. By the time she’d trailed those lips down to his straining member and freed him, he was shaking with the effort to hold still.

She gripped his shaft gently and peeked up at him as if for permission even as she spread her legs wide and straddled him. “May I, my lord?”

He groaned. He’d never get tired of that teasing, mischievous look. Her playacting the part of a submissive little innocent. He knew exactly what she wanted in return, and he hardened his stare into a glare. “Take me inside of you, pet.”

Her lips parted and her eyes grew dazed as she scrambled to do his bidding.

“That’s it,” he said as she angled her hips over him, lining him up with her tight hole. “Sit on it, slide it in…” He broke off with an oath as she did as she was told, taking him into her sweet, wet heat. “Good girl,” he muttered.

Her inner muscles clamped around him at the praise.

“Now ride me, love,” he ordered. “Ride me until you come.”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her hips already rolling back and forth, up and down as she found a rhythm that suited her. “Yes, my lord.”

He gripped her hips to help her, but soon she was tossing her head back, her hair hanging down to his thighs. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted. And despite the growing tension in his loins, he was struck by a tenderness so overwhelming it left him winded.

She was perfect. Wild and free and passionate and loving.

And she was his.

Much later that night, after they’d both found relief multiple times over, he tucked her into his arms and held her tight.

In the morning, he told himself. In the morning he’d ask her about why she’d sought out Foley, why she’d looked so guilty when he’d come over to claim her.

But when the sunlight woke him, his arms were empty. And by his side…was a note.

* * *

“What do you mean, she’s gone?” Hayden’s eyes were puffy, his hair disheveled. He looked far worse for the wear as he stumbled down the steps of his townhome.

His butler who’d fetched him hovered nearby looking wary about whether he was supposed to be hearing this.

He shouldn’t. The less people who knew that she’d run away the better.

But mostly Benedict couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d deal with the rumors and the scandal and whatever aftermath was to come…

After he brought her home.

“She left,” he said again. “She’s with Foley, I know it.”

“What…How…” Hayden scrubbed a hand over his face and his expression hardened into grim lines. “Right. Doesn’t matter.” He turned to the butler. “Wake Martin. Have him ready the horses. Send a message to Lord Raffian?—”

“Already done,” Benedict said. “He should be on his way?—”

A hard banging at the front door interrupted.

“That’ll be him.”

“I should have murdered that bastard when I’d had the chance.” Raff stormed past the butler. “I came as soon as I could. Where do you think they’ve gone?”

Benedict’s jaw was clenched so tight he thought it might break. The note had not specified, but knowing Foley’s history and knowing her…

“Gretna Green,” he bit out.

His friends stared at him in horror.

“Why would she do such a thing?” Hayden asked.

Raff glowered, his hands clenching into fists. “Does he have something over her?”

Benedict shook his head.

“Over you?” Hayden asked.

“No. She’s gone willingly.” To admit it nearly killed him. His friends didn’t pester him with questions but as they were even now rallying to help him find her, they deserved to understand.

“She’s punishing herself,” he said, his gaze going dark with rage. But that was better than the cold, merciless fear that had been clawing at his insides ever since he woke to an empty bed.

“Punishing herself?” Raff echoed in confusion.

“And saving you,” Hayden said softly.

Hayden seemed to have grasped it and his gaze was filled with pity.

For Benedict or for Philippa, he did not know.

“That’s it exactly.” Benedict ran a hand over his face, barely noticing the scars that used to shock him anew every time he felt them. But now they were a part of him, just as his tragedy and his past was a part of him.

Just as Philippa was a part of him.

“She thinks she can outrun her past,” he said, dropping his hand to his side. “She thinks she doesn’t deserve a good life. A happy life.”

The life he offered.

“I have to stop her,” he said. If his friends were as shocked as he was by the desperation in his voice, they didn’t let on.

Everyone was moving into action. Horses were saddled and a plan was enacted. They’d be heading toward Scotland quickly as they must have known that he’d be in pursuit. His nostrils flared as he nudged his horse to go fast.

Philippa couldn’t have one second believed that he would let her go without a fight.

Hell, even if he found her married, he wasn’t about to let her go. He’d steal another man’s wife if he had to. He’d take her abroad and out of the reach of Foley or the law.

Foley wouldn’t fight for her once he had her money.

But Benedict…

He wouldn’t stop fighting until she was his.