Page 95 of The Boxing Baroness

“But your head,” he protested weakly. “You shouldn’t—”

“My head is not your concern. Or don’t you want me?”

He groaned. “You know I want you, Marianne, but I cannot—”

“I know. There can be no more than this between us.” She released his hand and set both of hers on his hips, her fingers stroking the worn leather of his old buckskins. “I don’t care. This is all I want.” Her hand slid from his hip to his pulsing shaft, which was thrusting eagerly against the placket of his breeches.

He sucked in a harsh breath as she closed strong fingers around his girth and gave him a firm stroke over his clothing. Sin willed his hips to stay still—not to thrust into her hand like a desperate boy, but even with the leather between them it was impossible to suppress the passion surging inside him.

Still holding his gaze, she pushed him away, stood, and then opened the few buttons that fastened the high neck of her prim gown. And then she pulled the thin cotton over her head and let it flutter to the ground, standing naked before him.

Sin gorged on her.

How had he ever believed her mannish?

She was exquisite, her skin so pale she could have been a marble statute come to life, her proportions as divine and perfectly sculpted as Leonardo’s Vitruvian Man, but with a feminine potency that made him ache.

She shuddered slightly when he lowered his hands to her waist, and cut him a quick, shy glance as she stepped into the circle of his arms, her hands roaming over his body with a boldness that thrilled him.

Sin lowered his mouth to hers and she opened to him without hesitation. Unlike the last kisses they’d shared, these began gently, a sweet exploration. Her lips were every bit as soft and welcoming as he remembered. They engaged in a give-and-take, an advance and retreat, an erotic jousting of tongues. But her body vibrated with the same desperate hunger as his and soon they were squeezing and biting and thrusting.

She growled and shoved him away. “I want to see you,” she said, reaching for the buttons on his waistcoat, her fingers pulling and jerking, until the last button was free and she yanked the garment down over his shoulders.

Sin took one hand from her body to pull off the simple neckerchief he wore. Her hands dropped to the catches on his fall while he pulled the shirt over his head and flung it aside.

“Boots,” she muttered in an almost feral tone, shoving him down onto the bed and crouching low, her deft fingers making short work of the laces on the heavy boots he wore.

Once he’d toed them off, she removed his stockings and sat back on her heels as Sin stood, flicked open the last buttons on his breeches and shoved them down along with his drawers.

Before he could kick them off his feet, a cool, strong hand closed around his hot shaft.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, looking down just as she smirked up at him and then lowered that decadent mouth of hers over his cock.

Chapter 24

Maybe Marianne had decided to take what she wanted because of what Barnabas had told her that day—that she was a bastard and no man would want to marry her, even if they could have ignored her less than glorious reputation.

Or maybe she had finally realized there was no point in not taking what she wanted. Resisting the duke just because he was a duke was foolish.

Besides, if there was one thing she knew about the Duke of Staunton that hadn’t been true of Dominic, it was that the man she’d be giving herself to was worthy of whatever pain she would experience afterward.

Marianne chuckled at the hissing gasp he made when she wrapped her hand around a shaft so thick that her fingers didn’t meet. Good Lord. Not only was Sin decent and honorable, but his body was a work of art.

“Bloody hell, Marianne.” His voice was ragged and his hips jerked as she gave him an exploratory stroke, learning the delicious length and girth of him, excited by the slick moisture already leaking from his crown and wildly aroused by his clean, musky scent.

Marianne flicked the small slit with her tongue and grinned at the explosive curse that burst from His Grace’s stern, shapely lips. His arm shot out to the side so abruptly that she thought he was having some sort of fit.

What he did was grab the heavy drape and yank it open so roughly that the room was filled with the sound of tearing fabric.

The light from the courtyard lamps illuminated the small room with a warm glow.

“Much better.” He slid his fingers into her hair, his thumbs coming to rest on her lips, which were stretched taut around his shaft. “I want to see your beautiful mouth wrapped around me.”

Marianne shivered at his raw words. His lips were parted and his fine nostrils flared, giving him a wild, feral aspect. He stroked her mouth, his gaze heavy lidded, his pupils so huge she couldn’t see even a sliver of iris.

Marianne took him deeper, enraptured by the play of emotions that spasmed over his normally inscrutable face: wonder, adoration, and lust among them.

His eyes widened as she went down, down, down, not stopping until the wiry curls tickled her nose and he was fully sheathed inside her.