He wasn’t wearing shoes, so he slid his trousers off and tossed them aside. Next, he unfastened the buttons of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He tossed that away as well. “Happy?”
“Very happy.” She made a twirling motion with her hand. “Turn around.”
Feeling his cheeks burn, he did as she asked, hearing the low groan in her throat as his back faced her. He glanced over his shoulder. “See something you like?”
“A man shouldn’t possess an arse like that,” she said. “It’s not fair.”
“Your arse is perfect.” He turned around. “Every part of you is perfect.” Except one part. The part that didn’t love him. But he pushed that thought aside. He’d said he wanted love, not a moment’s pleasure, but who was he fooling? Underneath it all, he would always have traces of the rake he’d once been. And he wanted the pleasure, especially with Lucy. Tonight she would behisLucy. Tomorrow they’d part ways—she to break the heart of some other scoundrel and he, well, hopefully he’d find another woman to love, one who could love him in return.
He took her hands and pulled her down to her knees in front of the hearth. “Here?” she asked.
“To start.” He put a hand on her waist and pulled her close. He bent his head and kissed her, the feel of her mouth on his like coming home. He couldn’t remember ever kissing any other woman. It seemed Lucy’s lips, her mouth, the taste of her was all he had ever experienced and all he ever wanted. The kiss was lazy and softly seductive. She explored his lips, his mouth, teasing him with gentle nips and sucks. He followed her lead, knowing exactly the pressure she liked and when to deepen the kiss. It was as though they had been lovers for years and no longer had to ask or wonder what the other liked.
When her hands fisted in his hair, he lowered his mouth to her neck, kissing the delicate skin beneath her chin. She tasted faintly of the soap they’d used. The scent was rose, which wasn’t his favorite, but he found the mixture of rose and her own scent heady indeed.
His hands teased her nipples until they hardened in his hands like ripe raspberries. One hand moved to her back and eased her down on the rug before the hearth. The firelight played on her skin, the orange and yellow flickering over her pale flesh mottled in places with black and blue.
Her breasts were full, as were her hips. She might be small in stature, but she would never have passed for a child or a man. He loved her curves and the feel of her soft flesh beneath his hands. She trembled as he explored her with his mouth and his hands then made a sound of relief when he parted her legs and settled between them.
“Been waiting for this, have you?” he asked, kissing her sex before parting the folds and admiring the slick pink skin there.
“You know you’re good at it,” she said, lifting onto her elbows to look down at him.
“You’re easy to please,” he said, tracing a finger over her sensitive flesh.
“Not usually,” she said, allowing her head to fall back as he stroked her. “Duncan,” she said after he’d teased and taunted. “I want your tongue. I dream about it.Please.”
How was he to refuse her when she put it like that? He gave her what she wanted, licking and tasting, teasing her until she dropped down on the rug and spread her legs like a wanton. Her thighs quivered as he brought her just to the edge of climax then back down again. He expected her to demand satisfaction. He knew she was bruised and weary, but she stayed with him, opening herself, giving him all of her.
He hadn’t expected this much vulnerability from her, and when he finally gave her the orgasm, it was so powerful, she couldn’t even cry out. But she managed to sob out a few words. “Duncan, inside me.Please.”
He’d been ignoring his aching cock, but now it seemed to demand he pay attention. He levered over her and slid inside her warm, pulsing sex. She groaned and writhed, his entrance giving her even more pleasure.
And the pleasure he’d wanted came too. She moved with him, taking him deep and forcing him to move slowly when all he wanted was to thrust and pound. But the slowness drew the pleasure out, heightened it.
It also made him as vulnerable as she. Duncan made it a practice, in his past life as a scoundrel, not to look a woman in the eye when he was inside her. Often, he didn’t even let the relationship go that far, settling for the pleasure that could be given with mouths and hands.
But now he made the mistake of looking at Lucy’s face. Her eyes were locked on his, and, as always, once he met her gaze, it was hard to look away. Her hands found his and they joined their bodies in that way as well. She notched her chin up and he kissed her lips, their tongues moving in time to the rhythm of their bodies.
The pleasure built, and he broke the kiss. “I have to—”
Her hands closed on his. “Stay.”
“You’d risk it?”
Duncan knew even Baron, who was progressive enough to allow women to serve as agents, would not allow a pregnant woman on a mission.
“It’s not a risk. Trust me.”
He did trust her, and he linked his fingers with hers again, moving inside her slowly. He’d never done this. He’d never come inside a woman, hadn’t wanted to father bastards or tie himself to any woman for more than a night or two.
But the urge to go deeper as the pleasure rose was more instinctual than pulling out, and he gave in now, letting the pleasure swell as his cock swelled and growling as he fell over the edge of that climax and spilled into her.
