The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(49)

He pulled his head back and looked down at her, his thumb and finger working her nipple into a tight bud. “You’re magnificent,” he whispered, the words dark and harsh, but oh so arousing.

His hand left her, and she gripped his waist again. “Don’t stop.”

Peering down at her, he arched a brow. “You like that?”

She nodded, her throat dry with need.

He fingered the edge of her night rail. “I only wanted to take this off. Is that all right?”

She nodded again as he reached for the hem.

“You’re going to have to lift up.”

Raising her backside, she helped him tug the garment up to her waist. Then he whisked it over her head and tossed it aside.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, putting both of his hands on her. He cupped her, his palms massaging her flesh, sending shards of stark need straight to that core between her legs. “So round and perfect. I have to taste.”

What?

Before she could fully process what he’d said, his mouth was on her breast, wet and searing. She let out a low cry full of surprise and wonder and craving. She squeezed her eyes shut as if she had to shut down at least one of her senses so that she could survive the barrage.

His movements were light at first, his lips and tongue gently working her flesh. Then he took more of her into his mouth, his hand holding the globe captive to his attention. He pulled back and blew on her before suckling her once more. Instinctively, she thrust her hand into his hair and held him to her. He repeated the actions, blowing and sucking, all while his other hand worked the other breast.

The pulsing between her legs amplified, and her breaths came hard and fast.

“See? You’re spectacular.”

His words managed to permeate her thick haze of lust. “Are you…enjoying yourself?” she asked, sounding breathless.

“Immensely. I can’t get enough of you.” As if to punctuate his statement, he moved his mouth to her other breast and took her deep into his mouth, licking and sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along her flesh.

“Bran.”

He pulled back, and she opened her eyes. He stared at her, a half smile curving his lips. “You called me Bran. I hope that means that I may call you Joanna. Mrs. Shaw seems rather formal in this instance.”

She nodded. “But not outside this room.”

“As you command.” He took her hand and pressed it to the front of his pantaloons. “Can you see for yourself that I’m enjoying this?”

His cock was rock-hard. She’d been well acquainted with Matthias’s, though she didn’t think it had ever felt this…substantial. Getting him to full arousal had required a great deal of effort with her hands and mouth, and she’d loathed every minute of it.

She’d expected to flinch upon feeling Bran, but this was already so different from every one of her other experiences. “You’re big.”

He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Since he’d put her hand there, she had to assume he wanted her to do something. “Do you want to show it to me?”

“In a bit,” he said. “I’ve more fun to have—I’m quite enjoying myself. Are you?”

She nodded, feeling shy. The throbbing between her legs had lessened a bit since he’d stopped touching her.

“You don’t seem entirely convinced. I’ll take it personally if you don’t enjoy the hell out of this.” He lightly pushed her back. “Lie back.”

As she reclined over the mattress, his hands came around her breasts once more, stroking and cupping them and reigniting her need. His hands moved down her stomach, tracing over the plane, making her shiver, until they settled on her hips. He guided her legs apart, and again embarrassment washed over her.

She wouldn’t ask him to stop, however. Not now. Probably not ever.

“Don’t you wish to turn out the light?” She sounded small and tremulous, nervous.

He didn’t stop his movements. “Why would I do that? Then I wouldn’t be able to appreciate your beauty. I want to see every inch of you.” He ran his thumb along the crease between her legs. “Every inch.”

His fingers played with her flesh, teasing and stroking. Any sense of embarrassment fled and was replaced with sheer pleasure and an overwhelming sense of longing. Matthias had barely touched her there, just to find his way inside. It had been enough for her to realize that something could feel good. Maybe. She wasn’t sure. She’d tried touching herself and had felt a mild satisfaction a few times, but this sensation, this incredible arousal, was unlike anything she’d ever known.

Then his finger slipped inside her. She closed her eyes and spread her thighs as wide as they would go, shameless in her need to feel him.

“I think you are enjoying this,” he said, sliding his finger in and out of her wet sheath.

She wanted to move, but Matthias had always told her to lie still. Bran used his other hand to touch the top of her sex, and she couldn’t help her response. She bucked up off the bed, crying out.

“Oh yes, you most definitely are enjoying yourself.” He leaned over her—she could feel him against her sensitized breasts. “And lest you think I’m not, rest assured that I am.” He kissed her, his tongue meeting hers in long, sweeping movements that echoed what he was doing between her legs.