One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)

She lifted her head. “Not good?”


“Too good.” With a pained expression, he pulled her hand away. “I’ve waited much too long for this, for it to be over before it starts. Lie down.”

She complied, smiling to herself. He said “sit,” and she sat. He said “stand,” and she stood. He told her to “lie down,” and she lay down … because at her core, she trusted him instinctively. She always had, from that very first night.

Kicking her slippers to the floor, she drew the counterpane back before reclining on the pillows. With focused concentration, he divested her of stockings, petticoat, and drawers, until she lay atop the sheets in only her chemise. The dampened cloth clung to her ni**les as feverish breaths lifted her chest. He sat at the edge of the bed, wrestling briefly with his boots and then standing just long enough to slide his breeches and smallclothes down over his hips.

Fully naked now, he straddled her thighs, making no attempt whatsoever to hide his erect member from her view. For about two seconds, a vestige of modesty diverted her gaze elsewhere, but she quickly gave into temptation and stared. His proud, thick shaft jutted out from a nest of black hair, making a dramatic impression against the white lawn of her shift. She had no grounds for comparison, but she found his sheer size and eagerness rather daunting.

“Don’t be timid.” The hint of amusement in his voice made her blush. “It’s going to be inside you. You ought to see it first.” He picked up her hand where it lay at her side, whispering, “Touch me.”

He wrapped her fingers around his shaft, guiding her hand slowly up and down his full length. Petal-soft skin slid with her palm, slipping over thick veins and rock-hard need. This softness, this strength—it would all be inside her soon. Her feminine places ached pleasurably at the thought.

She stroked him again, and a drop of clear moisture glistened at the tip. Intrigued, she dabbed it with her fingertip.

His hand tightened, immobilizing hers. “No more of that.”

He pulled her hand away and retreated to grasp the hem of her chemise. Skimming his hands up the slope of her calves, then her thighs, he pushed the fabric to her waist. After pausing briefly to adjust his weight, he hiked the shift higher still, exposing her soft, rounded belly and the swells of her br**sts. Fabric wadded beneath her arms. Should she sit up, so he might remove the garment entirely?

He seemed too impatient to bother. His hands ranged greedily over her body, grasping her br**sts, hips, thighs. With one hand, he reached between her legs, parting her sex. She was already damp there, and his fingers slipped easily between her folds. He explored her gently, his breathing growing rough. Growing self-conscious, she found herself wishing he’d at least kiss her while he touched her this way. But then his thumb found that sensitive nub at the crest of her sex, and she just didn’t care anymore. Her back arched, thrusting her br**sts upward. With a low moan, he bent and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking firmly as he circled that needy spot with his thumb. He slid a finger inside her, and her intimate muscles clenched around it.

“Bloody hell.” When he spoke again, his voice shook. “You’re so tight.”

“Is that bad?” She moaned as he worked his finger in and out, dragging against exquisitely tender flesh.

“It’s unfair. This is going to be damn amazing for me, and damn uncomfortable for you, at best.” He increased the pace of his circular caresses, and her hips jerked with a fierce jolt of pleasure. “Can you come for me? If you come first, it will go easier.”

What a request. Just like him, to be so straightforward. Could she? Amelia wasn’t sure. She most definitely wanted to. His touch incited unbearable sensation in her, and he drove her closer to the edge with every tiny caress. But there was trusting him, and then there was trusting him. She’d never come for anyone other than herself. It was as though she hovered on the brink of pleasure, but a thin cord of inhibition held her back.

And then his words began to unravel it.

“I want to see you come. I’ve been dreaming of it, did you know?”

No. No, she hadn’t known. She could never have guessed, in a thousand years, that he would be dreaming of that.

“Both asleep and awake, I’ve been dreaming of it. What your face will look like. How tight your ni**les will get. Exactly what shade of pink you’ll turn, and in precisely which places.”

Rocked by a fresh surge of pleasure, she let her head roll back and threw her wrist over her eyes.