One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)

“No.” His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head back up. The sharp yank on a thousand nerve endings sent pain and pleasure rushing from her scalp to her toes.

“Watch yourself,” he commanded her. “Watch yourself as you come. Every other man can see you as you were downstairs. Witty. Desirable. Charming. Elegant.” Each word drove home with another thrust. “But this is when you’re goddamned beautiful, and this beauty is mine. It’s for me, and me alone. Now and forever. Do you understand?”

She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he doubled the force of his motions again. A bottle of eau de cologne rolled to the floor, crashing open in a flood of rich scent. Her senses were overwhelmed.

“Mine,” he said, on a hard, spanking thrust.

“Yes.” She watched, mesmerized, as her reflection flushed pink. Her swollen lips fell apart, exposing the tip of her tongue. She stared into the jewel-like blue of her own eyes, soaring closer to release with each delicious thrust. He was right; there was true beauty there.

“Yes. Oh, Spencer. Yes.” Her eyes squeezed shut as she came. She couldn’t have stopped them, any more than she could keep her eyes open for a sneeze. The force of her climax was too powerful, too sudden. It went on and on, as he drove into her relentlessly.

As the tremors in her core ebbed, she sensed the shift in him—that slight hitch in his motions that signaled he’d gone past the point of return.

And now she forced herself to look. She watched in the mirror as his jaw went tight, and his lip curled back to reveal gritted teeth. His face was contorted with pleasure, as if it felt so good it hurt. His eyes closed, and his neck arched.

That mask of primal, raw lust—it was for her. She’d done that.

“Yes,” she urged him. “Come for me now.”

He gave a harsh cry and froze as he spent inside her, digging his fingernails into her hips. She would have bruises there tomorrow. She would cherish them.

They remained there, joined, gasping and shuddering against the much-abused dressing table. He laid his brow on her bare shoulder. Perspiration misted them both.

He withdrew from her body, and she trembled helplessly in his arms. Her knees refused to solidify. She wondered if she’d even be able to stand.

“Oh, Amelia,” he finally said, sounding drugged and weak. “Come here.”

He helped her to the bed. She lay boneless atop the coverlet while he played lady’s maid, removing her gown, stockings, and undergarments. He dampened a cloth at the washstand and swabbed her brow and neck with cool water before dragging the cloth lower, to soothe the tender flesh between her legs.

He stretched out beside her on the bed. “Are you well?”

She managed a nod.

He smoothed the stray hairs from her face and kissed her cheek. Then he kissed her neck. And then that delicate pulse just beneath her ear. He kissed her everywhere. No eager nips or seductive swipes of his tongue. Just tender, reverent brushes of his lips against her skin, from crown to toe. Her exhaustion was so complete, she wasn’t even ticklish. He kissed the insides of her elbows, her belly, her knees, and even the broad, fleshy mound of her hip. She didn’t so much as flinch. Then he settled between her legs, spreading her thighs to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders. His fingers parted her gently, and he dropped a soft kiss against her sex.

Her hips bucked, just a little.

“I’ve been waiting forever to do this.” He stroked her with his tongue. “You taste so good.”

And with that, any fight in her was gone. She lay there, letting the beautiful pleasure sparkle and swirl through her veins. She brought one hand to his hair, sifting through the dark curls as he kissed her languidly. Within her, the need mounted again, and she knew he would soon bring her to another blissful crest—but she didn’t want to hurry. In some ways, she couldn’t imagine a greater pleasure than this. Knowing that there was a party downstairs and a bottle of brandy next door, but what her husband most wanted to do at this moment was just this: to lie between her legs and worship her body with his lips and tongue. She fought the rising climax as long as she could, wanting to prolong this time they were sharing together.

But she couldn’t make it last forever. He pursed his lips around her bud and did something indescribable with his tongue, and her peak was upon her before she even had time to breathe. First piercing, then soft and buoyant as a wave.

Oh. Oh.

Oh.

He rested his head on her belly. “I’ve missed this.”

She smiled, stroking his hair. They’d shared a bed every night for weeks now, and they’d never done exactly “this” before. But she knew what he meant. He meant he’d missed her. Emotion thickened her throat.

“Spencer?”

He lifted his head, a silent question in his eyes.

“Please speak,” she begged him. “It’s a lovely moment, and this is where you ruin it. This is where you say something arrogant and insensitive. You know, to save me just in time, before I lose my heart to you completely.”