Page 9 of Abducting his Duchess

My breath comes in haggard gasps as I watch the blade glint in the firelight. “I am your prisoner,” I murmur, sinking down into a curtsy. “My body is yours to do with as you will.”

The air grows heavy and even warmer as his arousal floods my senses. My thighs tremble as desire and need grow into an inferno that rivals the blazing fire.

I want him.

I need him.

I crave him with every fiber of my being.

“Yes,” he murmurs, walking around me. “You are certainly mine. Now, if I remember correctly, I was going to inspect you for any cuts the briars caused, but first, your atonement for your ghastly language. On your knees.”

I sink down onto his coat, my mind fuzzing about the edges. It is my submission to his wants and desires which make my body burn. Knees splayed as best as they can within the shift, I rest my hands on the tops of my thighs and look up at him. Desire flares in his eyes, turning them nearly black. I can feel the lust through the bond, and it only makes me crave him even more.

“Such a pretty little kitten. Shall I fetch you some cream?” With slow, methodical movements, he works at the front of his breeches, taunting me with the erection I know is caged behind the buckskin.

Finally, he releases it, allowing the scent of his need to flood the room. My core aches as I watch the bit of precum pearl up at the top. I want to taste him. I need to taste him. But I’m supposed to be innocent, unable to pleasure a man such as him.

“My, you are far bigger than my husband. However shall you punish me with that instrument of torture?”

“Careful, love,” he grinds out, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “Men don’t like to be compared. Even if this is a work of fiction.”

“My apologies, my good sir,” I simper with a wink before placing the back of my hand against my forehead. “Oh my. And here I thought you’d be quite large, when, in fact, it is my husband’s phallus which holds the record for girth and length.”

With a playfully, ferocious growl, he leaps forward, taking me backward, splaying me out underneath him. “I’ll show you how large I am,” he teases, wrenching my legs open.

I resist the urge to groan as his large head prods at my entrance. This is what I’ve needed since the moment he appeared next to the landau. Instead of thrusting in, he hovers there, so achingly close.

“On second thought, I will still punish that wayward mouth of yours.” Reaching down to curl his hand around the back of my neck, he urges me back into a kneeling position. “You will worship my cock with your lips and tongue. You will show me just how repentant you are in your cruel words about my size.”

“And the penance for the awful language I used?” I blink up at him, the picture of innocence.

His eyes narrow, and though I cannot see his mouth, I can imagine the wicked grin that slashes across his face. “I have something far more potent in mind.”

At that, my insides quiver. Not from fear. Never from fear. But from an arousal so intense, it steals my breath. As he comes closer, I open my mouth wide, prepared to take him inside. However, he doesn’t move.

He just stands there, cock jutting out, tempting me. Normally, he grabs my head and uses me to find his pleasure, but this time, he doesn’t. He keeps his arms crossed as he looks down at me.

“Well? Are you going to worship me? Or should I cast you out into the chilly air in naught but your rail and corset to conceal you? Though, to be honest, it doesn’t hide much.”

I know they’re idle words, but they cause slick to gather and the incessant ache to resume. Until meeting William, I never knew I was such a wanton. Leaning forward, I run the tip of my nose up and down his length, taking in his musky, masculine scent.

God, but it makes everything in me clench with need. I long to reach down between my thighs and touch myself, but William, or rather, this highwayman, hasn’t given me permission. Groaning, I reach forward and cup his balls, giving my hands something else to do.

They’re weighty and full, drawing up as I caress them. With a sigh, I run my nail over the wrinkled skin, smiling as his cock jerks. Though he means to punish me by forcing me to indulge in my love for his cock, it will truly be he that suffers.

I plan to take my time, touching, kissing, and licking every inch. It’s something I’ve never been able to do before now. Our coupling is always so frantic, so fierce. For once, I can enjoy myself and learn my husband. Cupping both balls in one hand, I squeeze, watching his face to see if it’s causing him any discomfort.

Though I was his courtesan first and his wife second, there’s still so much I do not know about how a man works. And so I explore, squeezing even tighter until he gives a small grunt and pulls back. But now, I know what pressure he likes.

“Do you prefer my fingers elsewhere? Or are they fine cupping you like this?”

“God,” he moans through clenched teeth. “Your hands feel like heaven on my body. But now, I wish to feel your tongue and lips.”

“All in good time, my good sir. It was your command for me to worship, and true, heartfelt worship takes time.”

Bringing up my other hand, I explore his length, running my fingers over his large member. I’m unable to even circle all the way around with one hand. I know my husband is large, but actually taking the time to gather his length and width reminds me of just how well he stretches me out.

A soft moan slips from my lips and whispers over his delicate skin. He’s so warm, vibrant, and soft…like velvet wrapped around the hardest metal. Rigid yet yielding as I explore him.