Page 154 of The Dueling Duchess

Not until she grabbed his hair and yanked him away did he stop.

“Too sensitive, sweetheart?” he asked in a raspy voice, staring up at her through eyes that were black with lust.

“Want you inside me, Gaius.”

He grinned. “You actually make my ridiculous name sound good, darling.” He prowled up the bed on his hands and knees.

She glanced down at the feel of cool leather on her hot thighs and saw that—in addition to his shirt and waistcoat—he still wore his butter-soft old buckskins and stockings. “You’re still clothed,” she said somewhat foolishly.

He glanced down, as if he didn’t believe her. “Good Lord; so I am! I haven’t been so excited since my first time, sweetheart.” He began to get up, as if he were going to undress.

“No. I want you this way,” she smirked up at him. “It feels wicked to be naked while you are fully clothed.”

“I love the way your mind works.” He rose up high on his knees, his hand going to the obscene bulge in his placket.

“Is that for me?” she asked.

“I’ve been saving it for you.”

“Indeed?”

He nodded, flicking open the catches and buttons with exquisite slowness. “There is no other woman like you, Cecile.” He opened the last button and his thick rod sprang free.

She admired his proportions. “You are rather singular, yourself, Mr. Darlington. I want to watch you stroke yourself.”

He clucked his tongue. “My, my, what a dirty thing you are.” He fisted his thick shaft and winked at her. “I heartily approve.”

Cecile laughed at his foolishness. One of the things she loved most about Guy was how much he made her laugh, even in the midst of passion; she’d never laughed with a lover before him.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, stroking himself from thick root to tip.

“Don’t stop,” she ordered when he reached for her.

“I have two hands, darling.” Not pausing his mesmerizing stroking, he reached between her thighs and teased the entrance to her body.

Cecile arched against his hand, her body begging to take him deeper.

His dark eyes glittered down at her while he worked them both, the veins in his forearms popping beneath skin that was sheened with sweat. “I’m getting too close,” he warned. “I want to be inside you.” Moving with swift, sure grace he lowered his body over her, positioned himself at her entrance, and drove into her.

She cried out at the intense pleasure of their joining and wrapped her arms around his neck, gazing up into his whisky-brown eyes.

“Hello, darling,” he murmured, holding her pinned and stretched and full. “Did I tell you in the last few hours how much I love you?” He nuzzled her jaw and throat while he flexed his shaft inside her.

His question sent a frisson of fear spearing through the cloud of lust.

Tell him you love him. Say something!

But she couldn’t say the words . . .

“Mmmm,” she purred, tilting her pelvis to take him deeper.

If he was disappointed in her response, he didn’t show it. Instead, he began to rock his hips, grinding against her swollen peak and quickly working her toward yet another climax.

“God, yes,” he groaned, stilling as she convulsed around his shaft, her orgasm so much more rewarding when he was inside her.

The last waves of pleasure hadn’t quite dissipated when his hips began to move and he whispered in her ear, “Come once more for me, Cecile.”

She tried to protest, but her body was already moving to meet his thrusts.