Chapter 8
May I kiss you?
Christ, what a question.
Gregory swallowed, his heart thudding in his ears as her words crashed through his brain like waves on a rocky shore.
Could she kiss him? God, yes, anytime, anywhere she pleased.
Her lips hovered over his as she awaited his answer, and he stared at them, so soft and pink, so tempting it made his ballocks ache.
“I would like that very much,” he said, grateful the words were only slightly breathless, and not a nervous croak or a desperate plea, despite both his nerves and his desperation.
Justina didn’t seem to notice—or care, if she did.
Her eyes were steady on his and undeniably warm as she slowly leaned down, closing the distance, lingering over it until he thought he might squirm in his seat.
And then her lips touched his, soft and warm and delicious and gone far too soon.
A groan of protest rumbled from his throat, unbidden, slipping out like a hungry mewl for more, more, more, more.
“Another?” she asked, reading his mind or, probably, his groans.
“Another,” he confirmed, raising a hand to cup the back of her head and gently drawing her lips to his. He kissed her harder this time, burrowing his fingers in her hair, inhaling her scent, tasting her lower lip with his tongue.
He broke away a moment later, his breathing uneven, his senses alive. “You taste like...”
“Breakfast?” she supplied, smiling down at him.
He shook his head. “Heaven.”
She kissed him again, giving him her tongue as she climbed onto his lap, her thighs gripping his hips, her quim settling on the aching ridge of his cock.
Shock coursed through him, followed swiftly by a wave of lust so strong, so absolute, he lost the ability to breathe. His cock swelled, straining against his trousers, seeking release. Seeking her.
His hands found her hips, his lips and tongue mating with hers as if they had done this before, though he’d never experienced a kiss like this in his life.
Of course, before today, before now, he’d only kissed two other women: one, the woman he’d intended to marry; the other, a stranger he met one drunken night somewhere in Italy.
Neither of their kisses had made him feel like this.
Why should kissing Justina feel so different, so special?
He barely knew her and yet kissing her felt like the most natural thing in the world, as if his lips were made for hers, and hers alone.
The thought was a foolish one, of course. Justina was a warm, attractive woman and he was a smitten virgin losing his head over a moment of passion.
A moment of passion he didn’t want to end.
Shoving all thoughts to the back of his addled mind, he deepened the kiss, his heart racing as he slid his hands up her back and down over her hips and thighs, memorizing every plump, delicious curve of her.
Her breath hitched and she nipped his bottom lip with her teeth, her palms gliding down his chest to the falls of his trousers.
He stilled as she began to free the buttons and then he drew back, breaking the kiss.
“Justina, wait,” he said roughly. “You don’t have to do that.”
She eyed him curiously, a small, uncertain smile curving her rosy lips. “Do what?”
He swallowed, desire warring with his sense of honor. “You don’t have to do any of this. You don’t owe me anything.”
A long beat of silence followed as she looked at him, her smile slowly fading. “Is that what you think this is? A whore trying to settle a debt?”
Her voice was nearly a whisper, her tone hard and flat, but her eyes flashed bright with hurt and anger where they were warm with desire only moments ago.
Hell.
“I’m sorry,” he said with a wince. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
He drew in a steadying breath, searching for the right words. “I’ve seen how often men use and mistreat women and I refuse to do that. I desire you, but I will not take advantage of this situation. I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
She studied him, her eyes still a bit flinty, but he could see her temper softening as she considered his words.
“Thank you,” she finally said, resting her palms on his chest. “I appreciate your consideration for my feelings, but I assure you, I never do anything for a man I do not wish to do. I want to be with you, Gregory, but if you don’t want to be with me... ”
She trailed off, her eyes searching his, her expression a mixture of impatience and uncertainty that only made him want her more.
“Justina…” He gave a wry chuckle, laughing at himself. “You have no idea how badly I want to be with you.”
Her lips curled into a grin. “In that case, Duke...”
Her fingers returned to the buttons of his falls and once again, Gregory stopped her, covering her hands with his. “There is one more thing I must tell you before we proceed.”
She eyed him curiously. “What is it?”
He cleared his throat. “I am…that is, I haven’t…” He cleared his throat again, heat flooding his cheeks. Why was this so difficult? “I’ve never…been with a woman before.”
He closed his eyes briefly, but not before catching the flash of surprise in her eyes.
“Oh. I...see.”
“You’re surprised,” he said, his embarrassment making him say foolish things.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “You’re a handsome man, and a duke, no less. I...yes, I’m surprised.”
“Are you disappointed?”
She shook her head. “Just the opposite.” A wicked smile curved her lips. “I’ve never deflowered a virgin before. I must admit, the idea makes me feel rather rakish.”
That made him laugh and he leaned forward to kiss her cheek, grateful that she was the way she was, that she hadn’t reacted to his confession with a slew of questions or by staring at him as if he’d grown horns.
She was an extraordinary woman, warm and affectionate and sweet, and he was smitten with her. Simply and honestly smitten.
“Will you let down your hair for me?” he murmured, desire beginning to thrum through his veins again. There was nothing between them now, nothing to stand in the way, and he was more than ready to learn the ways of lovemaking under Justina’s tutelage.
She raised her arms and began removing her pins, letting them fall to the rug below.
She ran her fingers through her thick locks, shaking the curls free, and Gregory could only gape at her as she sat straddling him, her gorgeous mane of honeyed hair aglow in the muted light coming in through the window.
How was it he had not thought her beautiful before? She was exquisite. Radiant. His fantasy come to life.
“Gorgeous,” he murmured, gently threading his fingers through the curls spilling over one shoulder and across her breast. He met her gaze. “You are so beautiful, Justina.”
It was her turn to blush, her cheeks pinkening to match her lips, still rosy from his kiss. Without a word, she pressed her lips to his and circled her arms around his neck, and Gregory kissed her back with fervor, his hands closing around her waist.
Some minutes later, she drew back, breathing heavily, her lips wet and swollen and he swore he’d never seen anything so arousing in his life.
She slipped from his lap and stepped away from the chair, her fingers starting on the buttons at the front of her dress.
Gregory’s heart kicked in his chest as he sat there staring at her, his cock throbbing as she loosed each button with deliberate intent.
“Have you ever seen a naked woman?” she asked him, her voice almost conversational, as if she wasn’t driving him slowly and completely mad.
“Only in paintings,” he said, the words gravelly.
“Well, I think we ought to rectify that, don’t you?” She let her gown fall to the floor at her feet then reached for the hem of her chemise and, in one swift motion, swept it over her head. She was clad in only her stockings now, the rest of her bare before him.
“Jesus,” he muttered, his mouth dry now as his eyes raked over her body, from her full breasts tipped pink to her curved waist and full hips, and the nest of dark curls between plump thighs, slickened by her desire.
Her desire for him.
She was a goddess, a temptation he could not resist, and she quite literally took his breath away.
Her gaze held him captive as she sank to her knees on the rug before him, her eyes intent and sparkling with such wicked intent that it made his balls clench.
“Justina—”
“Hush,” she chided softly, her hands stealing up his thighs. “Let me do this, Duke.”
Gritting his teeth, he watched her undo the buttons of his falls, nearly spilling in his trousers with each brush of her fingers, and when she wrapped her hand around his shaft...God above, he thought he would lose his bloody mind.
She began to stroke him and he groaned her name, his head falling back as he sucked in a ragged breath. It was the most exquisite thing he’d ever felt, her hand gripping his cock, sliding up and down, her petal-soft skin a sweet torment he never wanted to end.
And then her lips were there, taking the place of her hand, her tongue circling the head of his cock with wet, dizzying laps.
She ran her tongue down his shaft from the tip to the base, gazing up at him as she did so, and that look alone nearly made him spend.
She took all of him in her mouth, sucking so hard that Gregory’s mind emptied of every single thought as he threaded his fingers through her hair.
He bit his bottom lip and rocked his hips, meeting her mouth with each thrust. He groaned again, too addled to beg with words, but she must have heard his desperation for she quickened her pace, her head bobbing with each stroke of her mouth.
“Jesus, Justina, so bloody good,” he gritted out just before his ballocks tightened and his head snapped back, his climax crashing over him as he spilled his seed.
He slumped in the chair, his body sated, at least for the moment. The intensity of his orgasm had shocked him and still sent little shudders throughout his body. He wasn’t entirely certain he had all the feeling back in his toes yet.
“I think you enjoyed that,” Justina said, licking her lips before giving him a smug smile. She rose to her feet and took his hands in hers, urging him to stand.