Page 21 of Down Bad with the Iron Duke

10

Theo

The Duke’s dark eyes bored into Theo, pierced right through to the heart of her. He was so intense, from his stare to his stature. His shoulder flexed, and her attention dropped just in time to see those large, thick fingers wrap around his shaft.

Her lips parted, and heat flared to life inside her. Her fingers tightened on her breast, sending an aftershock of faint pleasure to her core. She’d nearly wept when he’d walked into her chamber. The man was over six feet and as broad and built as a blacksmith. She’d known. She’d known. But she still hadn’t been prepared.

For it.

Theo hadn’t seen that many cocks in her day, but she’d seen enough to appreciate a variety of sizes. And to also appreciate that as much as women gossiped and giggled over well-endowed men, it was what a man did with it that mattered far more.

But none of the men she’d been with had ever come close to the one before her.

Was it a mark of being a duke? Massive estates, massive wealth, massive… Her gaze dropped back between his thighs. She let out a slow breath. Massive.

He gave himself one long, lazy stroke, and her entire body screamed with sharp, painful want. Denied want. She met his gaze, and lust burned to life in her veins, dark and heady and so bloody tempting.

She reached next to her and grabbed the small, stoppered glass bottle she’d snatched from her kitchen. “I brought you a little something.”

She slipped off the edge of her bed and padded toward him. He didn’t stop stroking himself as she stepped up to him, his head tilting back to hold her gaze. Mmm. She couldn’t deny she liked that. Him looking up at her. Her towering over him.

“Palm,” she commanded.

His hand stilled, and then he slowly uncurled his fingers from around his length and offered her his palm. Her pulse spiked. Every time he listened to her, did as she asked without question, it fed something inside her. A wicked thrill. It was control. Something women sorely lacked. So when Theo had control? Her pulse fluttered dangerously in her neck. It lit her up inside.

She flicked the top, the pop of the stopper echoing around them. The sweet scent of almonds filled her nose. “Only fair we’re both wet,” she whispered.

His eyes flared, a muscle in his cheek ticking. She poured some oil into his palm. God, how she wanted to be the one to slick it over him. To let her fingers learn his shape, his thickness, his hardness.

She swallowed hard as he lowered his hand back to his cock. A hiss burst from him, and a soft noise caught in the back of her throat as his cock disappeared into his fist only to reappear glistening and so bloody tempting. She clenched her thighs, her core pulsing. Every slow stroke made the ache grow deeper, sharper. She wanted more than anything to be back in his lap. Sinking down. Him filling her. So much so that she was having a very hard time remembering why she shouldn’t let him tie her up.

Control.

That was why. Control meant safety. It meant autonomy.

It also meant pleasure. Theo’s experience with men had taught her a vital lesson. If she wanted pleasure, she needed to be in control of it. She’d been with very few men capable—or with the desire—of seeing to her needs.

His hips bucked into his hand, and a wave of heat washed over her skin. He was so magnificent. So strong. Large thighs, rock-solid, flexing as he tried to hold himself back from thrusting into his fist. Abdominal muscles twitching with restraint. Arm muscles bulging with every stroke.

She squirmed, her thighs slipping as she clenched them even tighter. She had never been this aching with want before. She somehow managed to get her feet to walk backward. She leaned against her bed. “Better?” She didn’t even recognize her own voice. It was so low, so raw with need.

He gritted his teeth, baring them slightly. He shook his head. Quick and sharp. “A poor replacement for you.”

And heavens did that statement ring true.

“I’ll try to make it up to you.” She hopped up on her bed and spread her legs wide.

A whimper fell from him. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her core throbbed. Oh, bringing that man to the point where he was whimpering for her. She hadn’t even touched herself yet, but the sight of him, the sound of him, and the fantasy those sounds provoked was almost as exhilarating as a physical touch.

She slid her hand slowly down her stomach toward her core and reveled in the way his gaze was glued to her hand, his focus so intent that his strokes had slowed. An intoxicating warmth unfurled in her chest. So much power. She let her fingers dip between her thighs, and even that light touch had her eyes rolling back and pleasure streaking through her.

A choked noise rang through her room, and her eyes snapped open, a smirk gracing her lips. The Duke was leaning forward now, hands fisting his knees. Like he was moments from bolting out of his chair and ravishing her.

And it fueled the cheeky part of her. The mischief-maker. She spread her legs wider, sliding her slick fingers in slow circles. Her skin was on fire, her core throbbing in tandem with her heartbeat. One would think having such intense focus on the most intimate part of herself would cause her some self-consciousness, but Theo refused to be embarrassed by her body, by her needs.

Society demanded she be modest.

Men weren’t.