Chapter 16 #2
He looked up at her, his eyes struggling to keep focused on hers but drifting down her naked body. She allowed herself to do the same, feast on his body, the muscles twisting, his chiseled face, somehow the injuries making him more dangerous, adding to his dark allure.
“Marigold,” he warned, feeling her hot look on him.
She raised her hand and slowly, biting her lip, she touched him on his chest. He took a sharp inhale. Her heart was hammering at her ribs. She licked her lips as she felt his hard chest under his smooth skin. He caught her wrist softly with his hand.
“You should sleep, Marigold. Perhaps go to your room if—”
“It’s your turn now.”
The sharp inhale that he took made her feel powerful. She was not the only one affected. Her hand drifted down his hard stomach that tensed and clenched.
“You have no idea what you are doing to me, Marigold,” he growled, head deep in the pillow.
“Tell me what to do,” Marigold asked timidly. “I want to make you feel good. Like you make me feel.”
His eyes snapped to hers. His jaw tensed, and his hunger flared inside him.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know,” she said, her hands roaming. “I want to.”
Marigold reached the waistband of his breeches. He seemed to hesitate, but then he lifted his hips and pulled the fabric down his thighs and off. Marigold gasped to see him naked on the bed, unraveled in all his glory, hers to touch.
When her eyes had feasted enough, she focused on him. Her cheeks flushed and burned to see his hardness, long and thick, blue veins mapping the length.
“You can touch me, Marigold,” he moaned, as if her look was tangible.
She didn’t allow herself to hesitate, and her hand wrapped around him. He hissed and held his breath, eyes rolling.
“You feel so good,” he moaned. “Tighter, sweetheart.”
Marigold tightened her grip, and he inhaled sharply. Awkwardness was toppled by power as she felt him melt under her touch, inexperienced and timid as it was.
“For goodness’s sake,” he demanded needily, “move your hand.”
Her hand moved up and down the hard shaft, and she watched him moan and lose his composure.
“This is it,” he groaned. “You are doing so well.”
Marigold kept that rhythm, her breathing shallow, somehow her need flickering just by seeing him come undone under her touch. It was mesmerizing to watch him twitch and tense with each move.
“Oh, that is so good,” he breathed, throwing his head back, further into the pillows.
Her mouth watered at that sight, finding him irresistible. Her tongue darted to wet her dry lips, feeling a need that was overwhelming. She decided to succumb to that need and leaned in closer. Slowly, almost nervously, she darted her tongue out and licked the top of his shaft.
“Oh, God!” A guttural sound ripped from his throat, echoing through the room.
He looked down at her, only to find her looking at him, cheeks flared.
“Is this good?” she asked.
“Yes,” he chuckled, muscles tensing. “This is very…”
She dared more, and his focus was shattered. There was something intoxicating about seeing the always composed Duke unravel because of her, and she couldn’t bring herself to stop even if she didn’t know what she was doing.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he cried out openly, his fingers tangling in her hair, “you take me so well.”
That was all the encouragement she needed to keep going. His hand moved to the back of her head, not pushing, just tangling his fingers in her hair more.
“Look at me!”
She obeyed, drawn by his desperate tone, her lips barely grazing his sensitive skin, but her hand never stopped moving. His hips bucked against her.
“Don’t stop!” he said in that deep voice of his, but Marigold heard the begging underneath.
“Tell me what you need,” she asked, eager to please him.
“Are you sure, sweetheart?” He found it in him to stop.
“I want to please you.”
“Oh, you please me, Marigold. Let me teach you more.”
He was beyond words, so he showed her instead. His hand covered hers, showing her the rhythm he liked.
“Open your mouth for me, Marigold.”
She did as told, a surge of power and desire erupting inside her. Caressing her jaw, he guided her closer to his hardness, just enough to swallow more of him.
“Yes, that’s it.” His reaction was raw desire. “You are doing so well. Look at you, taking care of me. Such good care. Mmm.”
Marigold felt him twitch in her hand and let out a moan. She didn’t know a lot about things like this, but she could see in his body and face the same bliss that washed over her when she reached her crest of pleasure.
“I am close,” he warned her. “Just…”
A low moan echoed in the room. His body coiled tight, his muscles straining, and Marigold watched in fascination.
“Marigold!”
The tension snapped, and the Duke pulled her back by her neck, not painfully but firmly. She was ready to protest when she saw him shatter, his body arching in a final reach. He finally succumbed, his heat spilling onto her hands.
His body collapsed back onto his pillows, panting only for a moment. When his breath calmed down, he looked at her with wonder in his eyes. His dark, strict eyes had softened, and he exhaled as if unburdening.
Marigold was almost shy while she pulled one of the clean towels brought for a completely different reason and cleaned both of them.
“Come here,” he asked, patting the bed. “Sleep here. I am tired.”
Marigold looked at her torn nightgown, sighed, and fell on the pillow next to him. She heard him sigh, satisfied. She looked at him as his features softened by sleepiness and traced the bruises on his ribs.
“I will try to be more careful,” he murmured half-asleep.
“You better,” she said willfully.
A low chuckle, a sound that grew on her.
“Sleep now, wife.”
Marigold smiled and let herself go in his bed, next to him.