He pulled back until only the tip remained, hovering just within her throbbing opening.
“No, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop…” Georgina nearly broke down with frustration.
Her eyes flew open, then locked onto his, and she gasped at his expression. He opened his mouth and snarled, then grasped her head and kissed her fiercely as he drove his pulsating shaft into her with an ever-quickening pace. Their hungry mouths collided, tongues met and tangled, their lips dragging and biting, the sound of their moans echoing between them.
Georgina grabbed fistfuls of bed sheets, holding them so tightly that they threatened to rip apart completely.
The force of Lysander’s passionate assault rocked the bed and caused the headboard to beat against the wall like a drum.
She felt one leg shake uncontrollably as her core tightened and pulsed, grabbing onto him as he slid in and out.
“Let yourself go,” he demanded. “I want to feel you explode when I do.”
He had granted her permission. Until then, she hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding herself—body clenched, breath shallow, everything drawn inward. But his words had unlocked something within her, and she could finally let go.
As her tension unraveled, she reached the pinnacle of her pleasure, and her release washed through her in undulating waves. She moaned long and low as her body shook with the force of her orgasm.
The walls of her womanhood gripped him repeatedly, and he shuddered inside her, each twitch a raw response to her force. Georgina, half-lost in sensation, realized with quiet wonder that the thrill of pleasing him was as exquisite as her own release.
“Georgina,” Lysander moaned.
Some short thrusts into her, the final one deep inside that he held, his manhood throbbing within, her walls and folds trembling. She gripped the sheets on either side as it rippedthrough her like fire, hot and hungry. His lips on her neck, then a nip from his teeth.
A deep groan from the Duke as his seed spilled into her, warm and plentiful, and she felt a peace overcome her, different from the raw passion. She held onto the sheets as her head sank back into the pillow, and for a few seconds, she couldn’t breathe.
“Mine,” he whispered into her ear. “Now and forever.”
She could breathe again. “Yours.”
They collapsed together on the bed. Lysander rolled onto his side, gathered Georgina in his arms, and held her quietly.
I will never forget that I am his and he is mine. Forever.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
As Lysander walked down to the lake, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being followed. He had planned to meet up with Georgina there later to continue their swimming lessons and had left the manor early to check on the gazebo rebuild, but that was not how he knew it was not her. He could feel it. He wasn’t being followed by someone, but bysomething.
When he looked up, he finally caught a glimpse of the culprit. Mr. Squawksby flew between the trees, following his path to the lake, circling and doubling back at times to maintain the same speed.
Lysander shook his head. “How did you get out of your enclosure again?”
There was no response from the bird. It continued to fly in a lazy circle overhead, seemingly not looking down, but Lysander was sure it was watching his every move.
He continued his walk with the parrot flying overhead until he arrived at the lake, where he went straight to the gazebo. The laborers had recently completed the building, and he considered the final product to be more than satisfactory. He stood at its entrance and folded his arms, giving it a once-over.
Mr. Squawksby flew down and perched on the wooden railing on the opposite side, eyeing him.
“I don’t have anything for you.” Lysander sighed. “That treat I’d given you was a one-time thing. Besides, there are no treats here, are there?” Lysander looked around. “What are you doing out of the conservatory anyway? Do I need to repair that, too?”
The parrot, usually so loquacious and apt at mimicry, remained silent.
“Great, now, I’m having a conversation with a bird, and I’m the only one talking.”
“Best behavior,” Mr. Squawksby cried.
“Yes, yes, I know. You’re on your best behavior and you expect to get a treat because of that, but you’re not really on your best behavior, are you? You escaped from your home, and you’re not supposed to do that.” Lysander sighed again. “Still, is it fair to keep you caged up? When you’re on your best behavior, you’re not as annoying.”
“Best behavior,” the parrot squawked again.
