The Mad, Bad Duke (Nvengaria #2)(13)

“Spread your legs a little more,” he said.

She complied. Alexander rested his hand between her thighs, facets of his jeweled ring gently scratching her skin. He slid himself up into her as he slowly and gently lowered her down to him.

Meagan’s head went back as he stretched her, filling her unbelievably. She clutched Alexander’s shoulders, her nails biting his flesh, and he smiled against her lips, taking her mouth in a series of kisses.

“You are mine,” Alexander growled, voice fierce.

“If you insist,” Meagan responded faintly.

Alexander laughed, low and dark. The tightness inside her hurt—and then again, it did not.

Meagan knew the moment her maidenhead broke—her entire body squeezed itself to one point, then suddenly opened, like the snapping of a string that had kept her tethered.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I belong to you.”

Alexander spoke a string of Nvengarian, low and muttered, as though his mind could no longer conjure English. He filled her, thighs tight against hers, the feeling astonishing and strange. It was not pleasure that flooded Meagan or pain, but a rightness, as though she’d been born for the moment to couple with this man.

Alexander slid his fingers to her buttocks, caressing, and then sensation took over and Meagan’s thoughts went to the wind. She cried out, but he caught the cries in his mouth. She rocked, his erection straight inside her, knowing she’d never feel anything else as wonderful ever again.

Never let this end. Alexander’s mouth was all over hers, his eyes closed tightly, in his own world of pleasure. He smelled of musk, tasted of brandy and his own hard spice. Alexander’s shoulders moved beneath her hands, solid muscle under smooth flesh that she wanted to touch forever.

He was beautiful, and if anyone should be painted, it should be Alexander, standing hard, upright, and bare, half turned to her, in a room with a tumbled bed where he’d been waiting for her.

I need this man. I need him inside me, to love me and to teach me.

Meagan fancied she felt something click inside her like a clasp closing. She also thought, for some reason, that she heard Black Annie’s soft laughter.

Alexander released her mouth to let out more Nvengarian against her skin. “Shengen dem, me coura sel.”

“What do you mean?” Meagan said breathlessly. “Tell me what you are saying.”

Alexander dragged his eyes open, cheekbones flushed, and focused on her with effort. “I want you, my heart.”

Meagan’s own heart banged in her chest with ferocity. “I want you too, Alexander.”

His brows drew together as though in concern, then Alexander let his head drop back, and he thrust and thrust into her. Meagan wriggled and writhed, her own cries ringing. She laughed, loving the feel of him.

“Meagan,” he breathed, then he lifted his head, his eyes clearing. “Damnation.”

“Do not say you are sorry.” Meagan’s voice broke. “Please, do not.”

Alexander kissed her, the kiss hard and possessive, nothing apologetic about it. “My heart,” he whispered again, and wound his arms around her.

“Say it in Nvengarian.” Meagan’s blood roared with fire. “I like to hear you say it.”

“Me coura sel.”

As his tongue formed the l, Meagan wrapped hers around it. Alexander completed the kiss then pulled her close and let her rest her head on his shoulder while he smoothed his hand down her back.

“I feel blessed,” she whispered, inhaling the salty scent of him. “My Alexander.”

“Meagan,” he murmured, his fingers continuing the slow dance on her spine. “Red is a beautiful color. Warm, like fire.”

Meagan smiled, happy. Nothing existed but her, and him, and this room, and that was fine with her.

The sensible young woman deep inside her put her hands over her face and groaned. Oh, Meagan, Meagan. What have you done?





Chapter 5





Alexander held Meagan on his lap, still buried inside her, wanting to stay there forever. He knew that the love spell—a lust spell to be more accurate—made him feel this way, but wrapped in its tendrils he did not care.

Dangerous things, love spells. They rendered the victims completely unable to do anything but seek pleasure in each other. Outside this room a ball raged on, and Lady Anastasia awaited him. Alexander had been meant to question von Hohenzahl about a secret weapon he claimed would make Austria powerful against Nvengaria, and Alexander was already late for the appointment.

He skimmed his fingers across Meagan’s flesh, liking how soft she was. Alexander’s wife, Sephronia, had been very slender, like Anastasia, and neither woman had been the delight to hold that Meagan was.

Sephronia had never loved Alexander, nor he her, though he’d trusted her and viewed her as a partner. The Grand Duchess of Nvengaria had been a fashionable, beautiful woman before the wasting disease had taken her, an asset to Alexander’s role of Grand Duke and his most staunch supporter. But Sephronia had taken her own lovers—tender affection had not reigned between husband and wife.

Alexander felt tender affection for the young woman presently in his arms. “Meagan,” he repeated her name simply to hear the sound of it.

“Alexander,” she said into his shoulder.

He kissed her flame-red hair, loving the taste of her. Alexander was dimly aware that he’d taken her virginity and he’d have to do something about that, but the warmth of her naked body against his was most satisfying for now.