Page 80 of The Big Bad Duke

Leila was perfect for him now, in the darker world he inhabited.

And he… he wasn’t suitable to lick her boots.

The thought sobered him instantly.

She was young. Too young for a man like him.

And her life up until now had been filled with violence, with hard, uncompromising men forcing her to do things no woman—no human—should ever have to endure.

She deserved a vibrant, calm, and blissful life once they escaped this nightmare.

She deserved better than a broken duke whose hands were stained with blood, whose heart had been hollowed out by loss.

Though perhaps he was the perfect man to introduce her to the art of pleasure.

At least for now, while they were trapped in this strange intimacy, hunted and unsure of tomorrow. At least while she wanted him as much as he wanted her. While she was choosing him.

She was so responsive in his arms.

Their passion burned hot and bright, and he would take full advantage while he could.

When this was over—when she was safe—she would move on to someone worthy of her light.

But for now… she was his.

He shifted closer to her sleeping form and leaned in, inhaling her scent. She still smelled like flowers and something uniquely her own.

His body responded instantly, his cock hardening and pressing insistently against her soft thigh.

The reaction was involuntary, overwhelming. He tightened his arms around her, and she moaned sweetly in her sleep—the sound shooting straight to his groin.

She was wearing his shirt. He had covered her with it during the night so she wouldn’t get cold.

The white linen was almost transparent in the early morning light, allowing him to see the outline of her body beneath it: the curve of her breast, the shadow between her thighs.

He moved the collar aside and began kissing her neck, tasting her.

Her pulse fluttered under his lips as he worked his way to her shoulder, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along her olive skin.

She stirred in her sleep, a soft sound escaping her lips. She arched her back and pressed her bottom against his cock, making him bite back a groan.

His hand snaked around her slowly, savoring the feel of her warm skin beneath the thin fabric. He caressed her breasts through the shirt, feeling her nipples harden under his palm, then moved lower to her belly, tracing the gentle curve with his fingertips. Lower still, until he encountered the soft nest of intimate hair between her thighs.

He delved deeper, his fingers seeking her most sensitive places and finding that she was already wet for him.

He played with her feminine folds, teasing and exploring, feeling her grow wetter under his ministrations.

“Gideon,” she breathed, her voice thick with sleep and desire.

He smiled, bringing her slick arousal to the swollen peak, drawing slow, deliberate circles around it. “Do you want me, Leila?” he asked.

“Yes,” she gasped.

He made one more deliberate circle with his thumb, then pressed the heel of his palm against her nub and plunged his fingers inside her, making her moan.

He moved his fingers in a slow, suggestive rhythm, and she responded instinctively, her hips moving in perfect unison with his touch. Her hands clutched at the cloak, at his hands, at anything she could reach as the pleasure built inside her.

Her head was thrown back against his shoulder as she writhed and twisted, her body moving as if beyond her control.