Page 50 of The Duke's Virgin
Face hot, I turned and found my reflection. His zipper rasped as he dragged it down, but I didn’t turn around. Not yet. I couldn’t. I was too caught up in the sight he’d instructed me to look at—my own reflection. My skin, tinted with just the faintest tan after my time in Monaco. My nipples barely visible through the tangle of my curls. And my face, flushed with passion.
“I see your tattoo…most of it. Push your panties down now, Stacia. Let me see that beautiful ass.”
I was shaking by the time I’d complied, too raw to keep watching my own face and taking in the reactions he brought up inside me. Turning, I stared at him. He’d pushed his khakis down just enough to free his cock, and as I watched, he palmed himself, wrapped his fist around the heavy column of flesh and started to pump.
I quivered, and an ache deep in my cunt had me clenching my knees together.
He noticed.
Eyes running over me, he focused on the curls at the apex of my thighs.
“Does your pussy hurt for me, Stacia?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He stroked himself a little faster, his breath slightly rougher, but his voice remained calm. “Come here, then. I’ll make it all better.”
I started toward him but stopped just shy of where he could reach me, watching as he continued to fist his cock, the fat head disappearing inside his fist rhythmically. “I want something else first,” I whispered, meeting his eyes.
His mouth parted. “Tell me.”
“I…” My breathing hitched, and I shook my head, instead, going to my knees. My confidence had its limits, after all. Curling my hand around his wrist, I stilled his movements and leaned in, pressing my mouth to the head.
He mumbled something, but I couldn’t translate the mash-up of hoarse German and French that spilled out of him as I opened my mouth to take him inside.
He tugged free of my grip and curved his hand over the back of my head, his grip light even as he tangled his fingers in my hair. I moved down a fraction then back up, down…up…
I fell into something of a rhythm, urged by the subtle movements of his hips and the way his hand tightened in my hair. Learning the taste and feel of him, I stroked my tongue over the thick, heavy vein on the underside of his cock, then sucked on the blunt, rounded head. He groaned when I scraped my nails over the heavy sac between his legs, cursed again as I went back and sucked on the head, releasing him with a slight pop so I could gulp in air.
But when I went to bend back over him, he caught my arms in his hands and hauled me up, eyes hungry and avid on my face. “Where the fuck did you learn to suck cock?”
“Um…” I blushed hot and red as I stumbled over the answer. “I…um…I read a lot.”
His brows shot up. “About sucking cock?”
I shoved at his shoulders, although it was a useless gesture. He wrapped one arm around my waist, holding me firm against him, his eyes on my mouth while his cock pulsed against my belly.
“No.” Huffing out a breath, I pointed out, “Romances have all sorts of information in them. And…maybe I watched a couple of dirty movies before.”
“Ohhhh…how fascinating.” A wicked smile curled his lips as he stroked my butt. “What did I say about unexpected, Stacia…you’ve got a bad girl streak in there, don’t you?”
It was ridiculous that even thesuggestiongave me a thrill. But it did. He saw something on my face too and nuzzled my neck. “You like that, don’t you? Being a bit of a bad girl? I should have realized that the other night…you loved having me spank that perfect ass. Maybe I should spank you now. Bad girls need their punishment from time to time.”
I couldn’t have silenced my moan if I wanted to, and I didn’t care enough to try.
Shaking, I let him nudge me around until I was bent over my bed, much as I’d been bent over the garden bench. He pressed his mouth to my tattoo again. Then he brought his hand down on my right cheek. Without pause, he shifted to the left, then back to the right, quick slaps that had me shuddering and quivering with arousal.
My knees buckled after the fourth, and he nudged me closer to the bed, letting it take my weight. I thought he might spank me again, but this time, after smoothing his fingers over the tattoo, he trailed one along the crevice between my cheeks, straight down until he could thrust it inside.
I stiffened, then clamped down around him, the utter surprise at the sudden invasion locking me down tight. He withdrew, and I followed, keening in disappointment.
“That’s it, love…ride me. Show me how much you want me to fuck you. Show me how dirty and hungry you can be.”
With words and strokes of his hand, he drew me right to the edge, and as I hovered there, so close to coming, he pulled away and bent over me.
Dismayed, I curled my hands into the duvet.
He bit my right shoulder. “Where are your condoms?”
