Page 87

Rafe

Rafe’s fingers shook where they held Theodora’s waist.

Those dark brown eyes watched him, and he feared how much they saw. Her hips circled slowly, and the head of his cock slipped inside. Fingers pattered over his neck, up to his jaw, like they were afraid to touch him. They finally came to cradle his jaw.

“I’m…I’m all right to touch you?”

“Yes,” he whispered. He hoped. Sweat trickled down his nape, a mix of desire and dread bearing down on him.

Her forehead dropped to his. Her hips kept up their circling as she took him deeper. The pad of her thumb brushed feather-light over his cheek. Back and forth. Over and over. A quiet balm. Until she was finally seated on him.

His fingers curled into her flesh, cock throbbing, heart threatening to pound out of his chest. He wasn’t certain he was going to survive this. And he wasn’t exactly sure what the reason for that was.

Eyes locked on his, she slowly lifted, every inch of his shaft dragging along every inch of her. So tight. So hot. So perfect. She swirled her hips at the top, and his pulse spiked. Then she sank down, taking him to the hilt in one swift glide. Their mingled moans filled her chamber.

She continued her slow pace, stare locked on his. A promise there. Of trust. Of safety.

Fingers drifted into his hair. Soft. Soothing. Safe. But even so, his chest drew tight, his lungs restricting his airflow. He tried to draw a breath but couldn’t. A bead of sweat dripped down his temple.

Her lips landed there, kissing it away. “What can I do?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his damnedest to shut out the nightmares. How did she know?

She tilted his chin up. Pressed a barely there kiss to his mouth. “What do you need?”

Some pressure on his sternum eased. “Talk to me,” he whispered. Hearing her voice. Not losing that it was her—that was what he needed. “I need your voice.”

She slowly rocked in his lap, a sensual smile tilting her lips. “You want me to whisper filthy things in your ear, Your Grace?” Her eyes sparkled.

He trailed the backs of his knuckles up and down her spine, a smile threatening. “You could whisper quarry lease arrangements, and that would suffice.”

Her head fell back, and she let out an exaggerated moan. “You know exactly how to turn me into a wanton, Duke.”

A snort escaped him.

She met his gaze again, a cheeky half-smile curving her lips. “Perhaps…” She rose to her knees—and stayed there, swiveling her hips and not sinking back down. “Perhaps I should tell you all about…” She sank back down, and they both groaned. “The sizeable timber we were able to fell.” She lifted again, slowly finding a rhythm while their lips dragged over each other. “We were able to charge a pretty penny for such massive…wood.”

Amusement rumbled through his chest even as blissful agony built in his groin. “You’re a ninny.”

Smiling lips met his, swallowing the laughter that had spilled out of him. She hummed. “Laugh while you can, Raphael,” she murmured against his mouth. “I haven’t forgotten the wicked words you threw at me when we first started this.” She settled on his lap and stopped moving. Leaned back, resting a hand on his knee. “Shall we see if the great Duke of Ironcrest can be reduced to begging?”

He sucked in a breath.

The grin she sent him set his blood afire. Her fingers tightened on his knee, and her free hand slid up her thigh. Higher and higher. He gaze couldn’t move away from those fingers. Sliding closer and closer… She paused.

She cleared her throat, snapping his focus back to her face. “Hold on to me, Rafe.”

Like he’d ever let go.

He nodded, and her hand slipped over her curls and started working over her. His breath stuttered to a stop. Her hips rocked in a lazy rhythm, pushing into her touch, giving him a delicious hint of friction on his cock that bordered on torture. He thrust up into her, and she made a sharp noise in the back of her throat.

“You don’t move until I tell you you can.”

He instantly froze.

She resumed touching herself, Rafe’s gaze pinging from between her thighs to her face. Her lids were low, lust igniting in those beautiful brown eyes. A flush built on her cheeks, trailing down her neck. He wanted to trace it with his tongue. It flowed down to her chest, which rose and fell with every pant, her pebbled nipples so bloody tempting.

“You feel so good inside me,” she whispered. His fingers bit into her, and she moaned. As if she liked the rough touch. “Just having you stretch me, just like this, not moving, while I touch myself.”