Page 41 of All Duke and Bothered

His gaze crawled down her body, his breath coming faster and the bulge in his trousers growing even bigger.

“By God, Penelope,” he said in a gravelly murmur. “How beautiful you are… How you tempt me…”

A jolt of happiness rushed through her, making her blush. He thought she was beautiful… He was the one who was handsome, who was striking.

“Wait here.” He went to the bed and took the quilt from it, then went to the fireplace and spread it on the floor before the grate. “I want to see all of you. The whole time. I want to see you when you climax over and over and the moment when you become mine.”

A shiver of need rushed through her at his words. He took her hand and brought her to him and kissed her again, only this time, he didn’t stop at her lips, but made his way down her neck and her chest and to her breasts. He cupped one breast and took the other one into his mouth. The lash of his tongue against the sensitive bud was almost more than she could bear, and she clenched from the intense pleasure of it.

“Oh, Preston,” she whimpered.

“Do you like that, love?”

“Yes.”

Her knees became as soft as jelly and buckled, but he caught her and laid her on the blanket. The heat of the hot grate warmed her from one side, the quilt soft under her back and buttocks. He knelt over her, still looking into her eyes, and removed his waistcoat, then undid the buttons of the placket of his white shirt. They landed in the same pile as her own clothes, and Penelope stopped breathing at the glorious body of a prime male before her. She’d seen Greek statues before, knew the perfection of a male figure, but never a naked man.

His strong shoulders were broad and his chest was muscular, with soft black hair and dark nipples. His biceps bulged. His skin was darker than hers and glowed golden in the light of the fire. The hard relief of his stomach led to a region with which she wasn’t familiar at all—apart from what she’d seen in paintings and sculptures. The region he was about to uncover…

His trousers dropped, and something long and thick sprang forth…the male organ! Could it really be so big and stand like that, pointing upward? She’d never seen that on a sculpture! There were dark curls of hair at the base, and below that, his thighs were thick and muscular and beautiful.

“Preston, you are so much more magnificent than I could ever have imagined…” she whispered. “You must let me paint you nude.”

He chuckled and then smiled.

Smiled!

The view was so unexpected and so breathtakingly beautiful that she ached to touch his lips to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. For the first time since she’d first seen him three years ago in one of the ballrooms, he looked carefree. The ever-present scowl was gone, and he was young and boyish, and so handsome her chest hurt.

“Only you could think of painting at a moment like this.” He chuckled. “Let me see if I can make you think of something else…or not think at all.”

He went back to kissing her breasts. He cupped them both in his hands and alternated between teasing one with his mouth, and then the other, while rubbing and rolling her nipple between his fingers. Sweet pleasure was shooting through her. She arched her back to give him more access, to be closer to her. Then he kissed his way down her stomach, leaving traces of fire behind. And all the way down, past the hair at the apex of her thighs…

His fingers had worked magic there last time.

Oh, heavens, she was burning. Was he going to—

He spread her folds and sealed his mouth with her sex. She gasped and jerked with a shock of intense pleasure, and with the scandalous decadence of it.

“Preston, I—”

“Shh…” he whispered. “You taste like heaven. Better than I’ve ever imagined.”

She lay back on the quilt, her cheeks blazing as he proceeded to kiss her there as if he were kissing her mouth. He’d imagined kissing her there—think of that!

But after a few moments, she couldn’t think at all, as his tongue teased, licked, glided, and his lips sucked and nibbled on her sensitive flesh. She was expanding, swimming in the sensations, in the pleasure that rushed through her in delicious waves. Then his finger went in…just a little. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it felt like a small invasion.

“How soft you are, darling,” he mumbled. “How warm and tight. How wet you are for me.”

Wet? Oh heavens, was she embarrassing herself?

“It means you’re ready,” he said softly. “Are you ready?”

“For what?” She looked up at him.

“To take me in,” he said. “That’s how you become mine. How you stop being a virgin and become a woman.”

She wanted him inside. She wanted him as close as two human beings could be. She wanted him everywhere.