Page 74 of To Steal a Duchess

“Of—of course, but what are you⁠—”

Her words cut off on a sharp breath as he put his mouth to her thigh again, this time harshly sucking. His teeth nipped at her skin, and she tensed, her muscles already trembling with pressure. She did not push him off, but she didn’t know what else he planned.

Until his mouth dragged higher and higher, reaching the top of her thighs—the part between them.

“Dorian—”

He hummed into her body, and she felt it in every nerve.

“Dorian, I—I do not know what you want me to do.”

He pulled back slightly, a smirk on his face. “Do? Oh, no, Eloise, I do not want you to do anything but relax and enjoy pleasure. Now, be good, and lean back, and grip the bedframe.” A devilish grin appeared. “You will need to.”

Her fingers wound around the wood right as his mouth closed over the intimate place between her thighs. A wave of pleasure crashed over her, and Eloise cried out without meaning to. Her body bowed as she felt his lips go somewhere she did not even think a mouth could go. Her head tipped back, her hair tumbling down her spine. Eloise’s eyes fluttered, and, as if they knew what to do before she did, her hips swayed into Dorian.

He moved his head from side to side against her, and she heard him inhale. She wanted to clamp her thighs shut out of embarrassment, but she never wanted it to end.

Women like her didn’t do this sort of thing. Ladies like Eloise were proper, and fell into line, and served and⁠—

And served.

Her eyes flew open right as Dorian’s mouth opened over her again. His hands gripped her hips, his own eyes fluttering. He groaned against her, his hand lowering between his own legs.

“Heavens, even your scent arouses me, Eloise,” he mumbled.

“Am I…” She tried to even her breath, though it felt impossible. “Am I serving you?”

Dorian’s eyes flicked up to her. From such an angle, she thought she would swoon. “No. No, tonight, I am serving you, and you are giving me the greatest pleasure. I have a Grecian goddess of a wife above her, her thighs parted over my face, and I could not be a happier man for giving into such a need. Let yourself go, Eloise. Let me take your worries apart and make them dissipate.”

Before she could answer, the wet, searching probe of his tongue entered her, and Eloise’s knees buckled. She was falling, but he had already caught her, lowering her to the floor, over him. It felt wrong; it felt right. It felt like nothing she had ever known before.

She was kneeling over a duke, or rather, her husband, whilst his tongue flicked into her. He was almost buried beneath her skirts. Eloise braced her hands over his head, unable to keep her eyes open against the pleasure he wrought upon her.

His tongue laved at her intimate parts, buried between her legs. His own hips bucked up, seeking something she didn’t know how to provide, not really. But she enjoyed the motion of it anyway, and Dorian didn’t demand anything. He only held her tighter, as if he never wanted her to raise herself from his giving mouth.

Her hips moved down against him in steady movements, noises falling from her mouth that ought to have humiliated her but didn’t.

“Louder,” Dorian groaned against her. “Let me hear you, Duchess. Do you feel good?”

“So—” She gasped as he sucked hard at her outer area. “So good. I—I did not know such a thing could.”

“It does.” She felt his smile curve against her before he dived back into her. “Keep singing for me.”

And Eloise couldn’t control herself, couldn’t control her noises, not when his tongue was a hard muscle that thrust in and out of her. Waves of pleasure spilled through Eloise, and she was an unmoored boat, willingly helpless to the current.

Dorian’s hands slid up her back, catching the ends of her long hair, tugging. Eloise made a ragged, wanton noise as her head tipped back.

“Heavens, Dorian,” she moaned.

Another string of cries fell out of her as her hips sped up against his face. Her cheeks burned, and his fingers held her like an anchor, and Eloise felt as though she was on the cliff edge outside, and she would fly. Soon, she was rising and falling, seeking more and more of the feeling her husband gave her, until her fingers clawed into the floor beneath her, dragging down to Dorian’s hair. When she pulled, he moaned.

She did it again—to ground herself, to hear him, to know they were both rising out of themselves in pleasure.

A greater wave than before began to swell in her, and she tightened her thighs around him, crying out a warning, but Dorian did not relent. Eloise tried to fight it, but Dorian smoothed a hand down her thigh, hastening his motions.

“Let go, Eloise,” he told her again. “This is your release.”

She nodded, a whine tearing from her, though she didn’t entirely know what she was showing understanding of. Her hips moved, and Dorian’s tongue lapped, and soon, the loudest cry ripped from her throat as her release crashed through her.