The Devilish Duke Read Free

meet him, groaning in pleasure.
    Chuckling, he placed his face against the spot between her breasts. “Not so prim now, are you?”
    “Fallon, please.”
    “Not ‘Your Grace’? Could you have forgotten yourself enough to be so familiar?”
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just that I feel so…”
    “I feel it, too.” His weight moved off her.
    When she opened her eyes, she found him propped up on his elbow, watching. A smile curled his lips, and a gleam of triumph shone in his smile. Her breath still came hard, and her skin felt hot with fever. She couldn’t move as his hand went lower, past her ribs and to her belly. His destination became clear, and the walls of her sex constricted, waiting for his touch.
    Finally, he reached the hairs that covered her mound and stroked them. “Sweet puss. Does she want a rubbing behind the ears?”
    She held her breath, paralyzed to do anything but lie there at his mercy.
    “Let’s see, shall we?” He slipped his hand between her thighs and made one firm pass over the lips there.
    A cascade of sensation coursed through her, gaining strength as it went. Tension building inside her pelvis.
    “You liked that.” He repeated the caress, now firmly pressing against her flesh. The lips seemed to swell, opening her sex as if begging for even more.
    “Already wet,” he murmured. “Preparing yourself to take my cock.”
    “No,” she cried. Or yes. In truth, she wouldn’t deny him now. Her sheath ached for something to fill it. Yes, if he decided to take her now, she’d let him. She’d welcome him.
    “Another time,” he said. “This will do for now.”
    He touched her pearl, and she nearly shot toward the ceiling. Such intensity. Her own fumblings couldn’t compare to this reality.
    He stroked her, first flicking with the tip of his finger and then rolling the sensitive scrap of flesh.
    “Even wetter,” he said. “By God, you’re delicious. I almost hate to end this.”
    His finger stilled, leaving her on fire.
    “Oh,” she cried. “Oh, don’t stop.”
    “You want more?”
    She bit her lip again, this time to stifle a cry of frustration. He had to finish this. He couldn’t leave her in such need.
    “All right. I’ve played with you enough.” He pushed her higher. Rubbing, rubbing. The storm caught her, squeezing the breath from her, as the coil inside went tighter and tighter and then snapped.
    Suddenly, she was crying out as his hips jerked with the force of the climax. Spasms traveled the length of her sex as he continued stroking her. Drawing out the ecstasy until she could manage no more and fell against the coverlet, limp.
    In the end, he tucked her into his embrace. “Did you like that?”
    “Like?” The word had no meaning.
    “Did you ever do that for yourself?”
    She nodded into his chest. “It didn’t compare to this.”
    “Then, you’ll forgive me?”
    She nodded again.
    “Good. We’ll be married. I’ll make the arrangements.”
    With that, he got up. He didn’t kiss her, didn’t even bother with the clothing he’d taken off. He simply picked up the candelabra and left the room.

Chapter Two
     
    The wedding took place in the March family’s chapel—a small stone structure not far from the main house. To call the ceremony sparse would give it more credit than it deserved as such affairs went. It was bleak. No one attended except for the bride and groom, the vicar and one lone witness—Fallon’s butler. If the maid the duke had assigned to Rosalind hadn’t cut a few roses from the garden for her bouquet, the whole procedure would have resembled a business transaction.
    Of course, that was what it was—her body with its childbearing hips in exchange for his protection from her father’s plans. The trade had seemed straightforward when she’d planned it. But, when she bent to sign the necessary documents that would bind her to this man for life, the gravity of what she’d done finally hit her. She was married—a