Page 54 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

Her breaths came faster, and she gripped the bed sheets, completely out of control as his fingers kept going over and over that little bundle of nerves.

“There you are,” he praised. “You’re doing so well.”

His touch became more insistent as he increased the pressure. The sensations were almost too much for her to bear, and yet she didn’t want to stop. She knew exactly what pleasure laid ahead, and she chased that.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You like that?” he moaned.

“I do. I like it.”

Marigold looked up into his eyes, even darker now. His pupils were wide, his breath coming in swallows, his face tense. She dared look down at his lips, and he didn’t need another invite. He brushed his tongue over hers tentatively, making her moan lowly. That made something inside him snap. With a growl, the kiss shifted into a ravaging plunder, drinking her in, stealing her breath. And all the while, his fingers moved purposefully, taking her higher to the crest of a wave that would drown her in pleasure.

“You are doing so well,” he purred over her lips. “That’s it.”

“Oh, this is…” Marigold felt like losing her mind.

He increased the pressure, nibbling on her neck. Marigold sighed deeply, her breath coming in moaning pants. One hand held onto his arm that gave her such pleasure, and the other tangled in his hair.

“You are almost there. I can feel it,” he groaned.

“This feels so good,” Marigold admitted.

“Listen to you, so needy,” he chuckled, kissing her neck. “Such a responsive, good girl.”

The climb came higher and higher as her toes curled and her fingers dipped into his skin.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he ordered. “I have you. Let go for me.”

“Oh, I…” She moaned loudly.

“Be a good girl for me, and let go, Marigold.”

She couldn’t resist his command. Her body obeyed him like a strung instrument, and she snapped. She shattered around him, her core pulsing deliciously.

“Brandon!” she screamed his name.

“That’s it,” he praised. “There she is, my good, good girl. You look so beautiful when you come apart, sweetheart.”

Her body fell back onto the pillows, trembling with the aftershocks of the intense pleasure. He leaned and kissed her forehead, her cheek, the side of her lips. And all the while, the Duke fumbled with the bed covers, trying to cover her.

“Sleep here. I destroyed your nightgown,” he said, satisfied like a child, proud of his mischief. “I will buy you more.”

He fell back on his back, adjusting himself in his breeches. Marigold looked at him, his face tensing from the pain and the discomfort, trying to ease his breath. She sat up and knelt on her knees by his side.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

He looked up at her, his eyes struggling to keep focused on hers but drifting down her naked body. She allowed herself to do the same, feast on his body, the muscles twisting, his chiseled face, somehow the injuries making him more dangerous, adding to his dark allure.

“Marigold,” he warned, feeling her hot look on him.

She raised her hand and slowly, biting her lip, she touched him on his chest. He took a sharp inhale. Her heart was hammering at her ribs. She licked her lips as she felt his hard chest under his smooth skin. He caught her wrist softly with his hand.

“You should sleep, Marigold. Perhaps go to your room if⁠—”

“It’s your turn now.”

The sharp inhale that he took made her feel powerful. She was not the only one affected. Her hand drifted down his hard stomach that tensed and clenched.