Chapter 10 #2
But even as she said the words, she knew it was a promise she couldn’t fully make. For she had already forgotten, those pieces of herself seemingly forever lost.
His mouth settled over hers at last, and the kiss was slow and lingering, thorough and carnal. She felt herself grow damp with wanting him, her nipples tightening into hardened buds.
Could they make love in his study?
They had already done so in the music room, the dining room, and the library, so she supposed they could. Always, there had been an obliging piece of furniture to facilitate them. She found herself wondering what they might use here. His desk? One of the chairs by the hearth?
His lips left hers to singe a path of sensual fire down her throat. “My sweet Verity, you make me lose control with such ease.”
“I’m not trying to,” she murmured, breathless.
“Liar.” He nipped at her skin lightly, making her arch into him. “You look at me with those soulful, pale eyes, and your lips part, and you bring me to my knees.”
“I like you on your knees,” she said, thinking of all the times he had worshiped her thus, on his knees, his face buried between her legs as he licked and sucked her to climax.
King groaned, his hands tightening on her waist. In the next moment, they were moving as one, him guiding her backward. The motion was so sudden that she let out a squeak of surprise and clung to him to keep from tripping over her voluminous skirts.
“I have you,” he promised, not stopping until they reached his desk.
She trusted him, allowing him to move her without thinking that she would fall. She wouldn’t. It was impossible. King would protect her always.
With quick, fluid movements, he lifted her onto the surface, her gown pooling around her, feet dangling above the floor.
Like every other piece of furniture he owned, the desk was large and intimidating, crafted for his height.
And although she was tall for a woman, she still somehow felt impossibly small.
He flipped her skirts up to her waist.
“What are you doing?” She was breathless with anticipation, with desire.
King gave her a wicked grin. “Getting on my knees where you would have me. Hold your skirts up for me, angel.”
She grasped the silk and cotton of her skirt, petticoat, and chemise, the cool lick of air on her stocking legs reminding her just how much of herself was on display.
If one of the servants walked in, they would be shocked to find the duchess perched on the duke’s desk, skirts rucked up like a doxy’s.
“Now, open for me,” he urged, already sinking to the Axminster.
She did as he asked, parting her thighs, and revealing herself to him. The cool air kissed the heated skin of her most private place. Awareness sluiced over her, mingling with the thrill of being wicked, the knowledge that they could be caught.
They wouldn’t be, of course. The servants all knew better than to open a closed door without knocking first. But that knowledge didn’t serve to lessen the need running through her veins or to quell her barely leashed excitement.
“Wider,” he demanded. “Your damned drawers are hiding you from me.”
She slid her thighs farther apart on the desk as he asked. “Like this?”
His gaze was so dark it was almost black, glued to the center of her, as if she were the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld. “Exactly like that. You’re wet for me already, aren’t you, my love? Your cunny is so pretty, so perfect. I could lick you all day.”
Her fingers tightened on her skirts, her entire body heavy with longing. She could feel her inner walls clenching already, preparing for him.
She licked her lips, trying to be patient, to distract her mind to keep from launching herself at him in most unladylike fashion. “You might grow tired.”
“Never,” he said with such utter conviction that she believed him. “I want you to watch me pleasure you.”
He didn’t wait for her response. Instead, he lowered his head until it was between her parted thighs. She did as he asked, struggling to see past the fistfuls of fabric she held neatly trapped, and saw his tongue flick over her.
Her hips jerked. No matter how many times they made love, she would never grow tired of the sensation of his mouth on her, his tongue teasing and tasting her, bringing her to swelling crescendos of unimaginable bliss. Verity’s eyes fluttered closed.
His mouth left her. “Eyes open, angel. See who makes you come.”
“I already know,” she murmured impatiently, but she opened them anyway, desperate for him to finish what he had begun.
She met his stare and he set to work once more, licking and sucking her with a lusty abandon that had her gasping and writhing on the desk until she nearly slid off its smooth, hard top.
His big hands caught her, gently pushing her back into place, and then two long fingers slicked through her folds, finding her entrance and sinking inside.
She moaned at the sensation, and he lapped at her clitoris with light strokes, pumping in and out of her and hooking his fingers to find a place deep within that brought her swiftly to her pinnacle.
“King,” she cried out as wave after wave undulated through her, almost violently at first and then with gradually lessening strength.
She lost her grip on her skirts, and they fell over him, leaving him beneath them and out of sight.
But he didn’t stop his sensual torture, suckling her clitoris now as his fingers pumped, then replacing them with his tongue.
He licked into her with wild abandon, the wet heat of his tongue thrusting in and out over already highly sensitized flesh.
She was on the edge again, that same tightness building deep within her, this time far more quickly.
She held her breath as he toyed with her bud, groaning from beneath her skirts.
It scarcely took any effort, and she was flying, the pleasure as sudden and feverish as it had been the first time.
Verity was certain her bones had turned to aspic.
She was collapsed on the desk, struggling to catch her breath, when King emerged from beneath her fallen skirts, his sensual lips dark and slick with her desire.
His customarily perfectly coifed hair was ruffled, long dark strands falling over his brow.
The raw hunger in his expression filled her with fire.
How fortunate she was to have this beautiful man, so undone for her. So in love with her.
How fortunate that he was forever hers.
He shot to his feet and pressed against her, her skirts billowing out around his long legs. “I want you desperately, but I don’t think I can wait to get you to my bed.”
“Then take me now,” she invited, caressing his jaw and loving how the sharp prickles of his whiskers were already making themselves known, when his valet had only shaved him hours before.
“Angel.” He kissed her swiftly, then lifted his head. “I don’t deserve you.”
A sweet warmth pierced her. “Yes, my love. You do.”
He kissed her again and took her hand in his, guiding it to the rigid length straining against the placket of his trousers. “Feel how much I want you. How much I need you. You’re like a poison in my blood. I think about you all day long, and I dream about you all night.”
“Poison?” She kissed him. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
But she did like that she consumed his thoughts. For he consumed hers as well.
She also liked the way he felt beneath her hand, thick and demanding. Her core ached in response. She needed him desperately.
“A good poison,” he murmured into the kiss. “One that gives me life instead of killing me.”
Verity found the fastening on his falls and plucked them open. Their breaths mingled, their lips grazing. She gripped his shoulder with one hand for support as his cock sprang free, hard and hot and ready. She ached to have him inside her.
“That’s better. An antidote, then,” she said, kissing him harder before he could respond.
“Yes,” he hissed as she stroked him hard, just as she knew he liked.
Already, a bead of moisture was leaking from the tip, a sign he was every bit as needy as she was.
“I think about you always, too,” she admitted, guiding him to her center and dragging him over her aching folds.
She notched him at her entrance, wrapping her legs around his lean hips, not caring about the weight of her gown or the bite of the hard desk on her bottom or anything else. Nothing mattered but his lips on hers, the pleasure she was about to give and receive.
“Never leave me,” he begged her.
There was something almost frantic in his voice, a quality she didn’t fully comprehend.
Surely he didn’t imagine she would want to be anywhere other than at his side.
Why would she leave him? Did he not already know how very much she loved him?
Did he think she was still distressed over what had happened that night in the nursery? If so, she would have to dissuade him.
Their love was forever.
He pushed into her in one hard thrust, filling her to the hilt and stealing her breath, along with her ability to think.
She was so sensitive and slick from his efforts that he moved in and out of her with ease, gliding along in her channel as he intensified their kiss.
Their tongues met, hot and wet and carnal.
She clung to him, their lovemaking growing more frantic.
His thrusts were hard and fast. Her bottom slid on the desk, and he pulled her back to him, slamming into her, until the pleasure was almost unbearable, and she knew she couldn’t withstand much more.
When his fingers brushed over her swollen bud, taunting her and teasing her, she lost control yet again.
He gripped her hips and thrust, and the pleasure that had been steadily building exploded.
As she clamped down on him, her release tearing through her, he thrust faster, harder, deeper, his lips never leaving hers. His body stiffened and he pumped into her one last time before she felt the familiar wash of heat inside her as he spilled.
Verity wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly as their hearts pounded together and he remained inside her.
Later, she would fret over what he had said, over the shadows she had seen lurking in his dark eyes.
For now, it was enough to simply hold him.
To revel in his strength and his nearness.
In the precious few moments they had together, joined as one.