Dukes By the Dozen

A helpless whimper came from the back of her throat. If he wasn’t so damn hot and hard, he might have laughed. His plan was working exceedingly well. Even if the act of winning was proving torturous.

Her hands slid across his stomach and down to curl around his solid erection. He grunted in bittersweet surprise. The wonderful, teasing friction, the promise in the cradle of her palm, it was nearly more than he could take.

He removed her hand and pressed his hips to hers, letting her feel all of what she wanted. Her leg shifted up his body, and he knew beneath all those layers, her most intimate place opened with that simple action. Willing and eager to accept him. His breath came ragged, while his hips flexed forward in a motion of lust.

Julia ground her body against his with a desperation he knew all too well. Perhaps it was time to push her farther. Give her more.

He trailed his mouth down the elegant column of her throat as his hand worked free the modest neckline of her frock, taking care to brush her sensitive nipples at all opportunities. Her breasts were lovely. Creamy white and tipped with straining, taut pink buds.

He bent his head and licked the hard nub. Julia’s fingers clawed into the back of William’s jacket. He then sucked the bud into the heat of his mouth while his tongue stroked gentle circles.

She gasped his name, the sound like sensual honey to his ears. This was suddenly not enough for him either. He wanted to bring her incredible pleasure.

He wanted to consume her thoughts and burn his way into her heart. He wanted to change everything he had done wrong on their wedding night, when his fear of hurting her had stifled him. Now he would ensure all went very, very right.

He straightened and nuzzled her face with his, putting his mouth to her ear. “Are you frustrated, my love?”

“Yes,” she whimpered.

“Do you want me?” The question came out on a possessive growl.

Her only reply was a moan, and her weight pressing against him as her knees buckled.

He skimmed his palm down her body to the heat between her legs. “Here?” His middle finger reached out in a languid caress between all those layers of cloth.

She drew in a sharp breath. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Please yes.”

It was on the edge of his mind to tell her to win the next game, but his mind was hardly working at this point. He lifted her skirts and drew back to watch her expression as he did so.

Those bright blue eyes remained fixed on him, half-lidded and bright with desire. Her mouth was swollen and red from their kisses; her breasts exposed and beautiful. His cock was near bursting just looking at her. Especially when the skirts were properly lifted and pushed over her hips to reveal the thatch of dark hair and an obvious dampness at the apex of her thighs.

Had any woman ever been so wet with need?

He cupped the intimate place. Her brows flinched and the fragile muscles at her neck tensed.

“Here?” he confirmed.

She gave a vigorous nod.

His middle finger moved against her, without the barrier of cloth this time, gliding against what was slick and hot and swollen. “Here?”

She moaned. Her hips bucked against his hand and ground with frustrated intention.

He traced her once, twice, before locating the small bud and rubbing it with the pad of his finger. Her sharp gasp rang out.

“There,” she panted. “There.”

“Not only there.” He slipped a finger inside her where it gripped him with a tightness he remembered too well.

“And there,” she agreed in a gasp.

He moved the finger in and out before adding a second. Her hips rocked against his hand in a rhythm that matched his stroking.

“Perhaps both?” He positioned his thumb over the sensitive nub, as his fingers continued to pump inside her.

Julia’s eyes flew open. “It’s too much.”

“It’s just enough.” He slowed his ministrations. “Trust me, my love.”

She nodded, and he kissed her, tasting her lust while he brought her pleasure. She stiffened. Her grip clamping his fingers spasmed and she cried out her euphoria against his mouth. His prick jerked at the sound.

William stroked her only a time or two more before sliding his hand free and releasing her skirts.

She blinked up at him.

“That should have been our wedding night,” he said with regret. “I was too afraid of hurting you.”

“None of that hurt.” She closed her eyes and gave a lazy, languid smile. “I want to do that again.”

He wouldn’t survive a second time. Even now, his cock ached with indignation. “Oh, we will. Many times.”

She chuckled, the sound low and sensual, and he knew well that the decision to give her pleasure had been a good one. His plan was working.

CHAPTER 7

DINNER WAS A FAR LESS extravagant affair than the previous days but was by no means without elegance or proper decorum. After all, one did not generally anticipate several extra days in a house party due to a blizzard striking in March.