Chapter Sixteen #4
He climbed in with more haste than grace and lowered his torso over hers, unable to resist one more taste of her sweet lips. She opened to him, welcoming his tongue into her wet heat with a low, encouraging moan, her arms snaking around his neck and holding him close.
He’d intended the kiss to be a brief one, but she rippled beneath him like human silk, her hips lifting as she offered herself to him.
Gerrit took up her gauntlet, kissing her so deeply and without reserve that for one strange moment it was hard to tell where he left off and she began.
Only the dull, painful ache in his balls finally penetrated the fog of lust that had built between them. He pulled back to give her a chance to breathe. “Are you cold?”
“I’m burning up,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Gerrit slid a hand down her flat belly, and she spread her legs for him without being told, her submissive response squeezing his balls and sending more moisture running down his shaft.
Gerrit wasn’t the only one who was wet. Even before he slid a finger inside her body, he could feel the slick heat coating her soft thighs. He worked her with slow, deep caresses, taking his time and preparing her properly.
She shivered and rocked her hips, so responsive to his touch that it was a pleasure to tease orgasms from her. There was also a perverse sort of pleasure to be had from denying himself release until he was so bloody hard that he ached to fuck her.
Gerrit imposed control over his eager body, suddenly recalling how much she’d enjoyed his vulgar praise the night before he leaned closer and murmured, “So wet and tight for me.”
The way she shuddered and writhed told him he’d not mistaken the matter, and he smiled to himself as her pussy squeezed his fingers.
“Be a good girl and take one more for me,” he said a moment later, easing a second finger into her silky sheath.
She clenched around him and squirmed delightfully, her face so red it looked sunburned. It amused him how much her body enjoyed his words and yet her mind still rebelled. Making her blush and cry out and shake with need was becoming something of a mania with him.
Gerrit strummed her bud with his thumb while he worked her, teasing her toward fulfillment but stopping just at the edge.
She ground her hips, trying for more friction. “Please,” she gasped.
“Please, what?” He was bloody impressed by how cool he sounded when he was teetering on the edge of exploding.
“I want—I want—”
“What do you want?” he asked, wanting to hear a bit of naughty talk himself.
Sharp, white teeth sank into her lower lip while her hips rolled beneath his fingers. Just when he’d given up hoping that she would voice her demands, she said, “I want you inside me when I—you know.”
Gerrit was amused by her unwillingness to say the word orgasm. She might have fucked a servant five years before, but it was clear her experience was not extensive.
“You will get what you want,” he promised, sucking her nipples to hard points, until her breathing was ragged, and she could not stop writhing. “But only when I decide to give it to you.”
She narrowed her eyes up at him, anger and arousal vying for ascendance in her gaze.
He knew she was pondering some insolent response in that clever head of hers.
But she must have thought better of it because she kept her tongue behind her teeth.
Gerrit had no idea why he liked making her wait for her pleasure, but there was no denying it heightened his own arousal to a nearly unbearable level.
He gently withdrew his fingers and lined up his cock, savoring the sight of his blunt crown breaching her slick pink flesh. She was so tight that his eyes threatened to roll back in their sockets as he sank deep inside her.
Control.
Gerrit gathered up the tattered remnants of his self-control and fell into a slow, steady rhythm before reaching between their bodies to stroke her. Her eyes drifted shut and her lips parted, an expectant expression settling on her lovely face.
He’d scarcely commenced his erotic caresses when she gasped, his only warning before her climax tore through her. He remained still and deep within her as her sheath squeezed him over and over, tormenting him until he thought he would explode.
Only when the final, faint wave of pleasure rippled through her did he move his hips, needing only a few hard thrusts before he found his release.
A powerful lethargy seized him even before the last spasm. He didn’t so much decide to close his eyes and take a moment to rest as his body decided for him.
***
When Dulverton suddenly collapsed on top of Katie it pressed the air from her lungs and she experienced a moment of panic. She quickly discovered that of course she could still draw breath with his weight on her. Just not much breath.
Being surrounded by his heavy, hot body was so lovely that Katie did not want to move and risk waking him, so she held her position—her arms wrapped around the broad muscles of his back and her legs curled around his thighs.
Her lips twitched into a smile when she realized that his breathing had become even and deep.
The stiff and stern Duke of Dulverton had fallen asleep. On top of her. Inside her.
It felt wickedly decadent to lie beneath him, pinioned by his softening shaft, trapped beneath the massive, yet somehow vulnerable, weight of his sleeping body.
She shifted as minutely as she could, stopping when she reached a position that allowed her to enjoy his considerable weight and still breathe.
She was desperately tempted to slide her hands back down to his bottom, which she yearned to explore in more detail, but she suspected he would wake if she began groping him, no matter how stealthily.
Of course, she could still never fall asleep like this. Not in a thousand years could she…
Katie woke in utter darkness, needing several seconds to recall that she was at Briarly in her bed. The evening came back to her in a rush—Dulverton making love to her and then falling asleep while on top of her.
And inside her.
She patted the mattress around her, confirming what she had already guessed: he was gone. He must have extinguished the candles when he left.
Only the ache in her thighs remained.
Once again, another night had gone by without them having a chance to converse—nothing serious, just the sort of chatter she had engaged in with Jasper.
Clearly, Dulverton is not Jasper.
And Katie was glad of that fact. But surely lovers spoke to each other? How would they ever get to know each other if they never talked? They seemed most at ease with each other in the bedchamber. If they could not talk here, then where?
Katie closed her eyes, too tired to think about the tangled mess that was her marriage.
It was better that he’d gone while she slept, that way there would be no awkward leave-taking.
That is what Katie told herself.