One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)(79)

“Ah, yes.” With a humorless laugh, he unfolded his hand. Between them, the brass token glittered in his palm. “I’m the villain. Jack can show up at this house, drowning in gaming debt, having recovered this coin from a low prostitute. He can impugn my honor, threaten my cousin’s reputation, and insult you to your face—”

“You hit him!”

“—and I’m the villain.” He muttered a vicious oath. “I’ve spent a week laboring under wrongheaded suspicions. I’ve exhausted every scrap of patience and consideration, worked day and night to see these accusations proved false. You claimed to believe me, even when my efforts failed. Now Jack appears with the very evidence of my innocence in his pocket, and I’m the deuced villain. Worthless ingrate that he is, he gets your loyalty. He’s the one you defend.”

The wounded look in his eyes … God, she felt it twist in her heart. But what could she say? “He’s my brother.”

“I’m your husband!”

The force in his voice sent her stumbling a half-step in retreat. The predatory gleam in his eyes sent her back another two. Her heart drummed furiously in her chest.

“I am your husband. We exchanged vows, in case you’ve forgotten.” He held up the token between his thumb and forefinger as he advanced. “And that same night, you made me a pledge. Once this token was found, I would have all of you. You would deny me nothing.”

“What do you mean? You’ve just threatened to forcibly separate me from my family. Now you expect me to behave as if nothing has changed? Lie back on the bed like a good, obedient wife?”

“No.” In a rush of strength, he caught her by the waist and swept her backward, until she collided with the wall. “I’ll take you right here, never mind the bed.”

He lifted her slightly, wedging his legs between hers and supporting her weight with his thighs as one hand dropped to burrow beneath her skirts. She gasped for air as he shoved the heavy velvet up to her waist, too stunned to resist. His fingers found her sex, and she was still wet for him from earlier, still tender from the night before. The sensation was overwhelming. Without preliminary, he pushed two fingers inside her, and her inner muscles cinched around their girth.

He stilled, breathing just as heavily as she. “You wanted this.”

Wanted what? To marry him in the first place? To be taken hard and fast against the wall? To witness the hurt in his eyes and feel that sharp edge of retribution, after the way he’d devastated her just now?

“Yes,” she breathed. Yes, she wanted all of this.

He withdrew his fingers, and she felt him tugging at the placket of his trousers. He gritted his teeth as he struggled to free himself, supporting her weight and endless wads of velvet with one arm as he worked the buttons with his other hand. Amelia let her own arms dangle at her sides. She didn’t want to help him, but neither did she want to push him away. Despite all her anger and wounded feelings, she still yearned for the pleasure he could give. It was as if her heart had walked out the door with Jack, but her body was still here, mindlessly craving.

Once he ceased struggling with the buttons, he grasped her hand in his and pulled it between them, tunneling through all the layers of cloth. He wrapped her fingers around his swollen, rigid length. His skin was hot to the touch, scalding against her palm.

“Show me you want it.” He tightened his fist until she was sure their combined grip must be hurting him. “Guide me in.”

He released her hand, leaving her clutching his manhood between them. He cupped her thighs in his hands and lifted, spreading her legs wide.

Using the hard, pulsing handle he’d provided her, she pulled him closer. Not down between her folds, where she knew he wanted to be, but where she wanted him. She rubbed his engorged crown against the sensitive place at the top of her cleft. Pleasure rolled through her as she massaged the swollen bud with his hardness and heat.

He groaned, and his fingers bit into her thighs as he tilted her pelvis. His hips bucked, and he thrust against her, dragging his full length through the moist folds of her sex. She tightened her grip, pulling him away. He’d given her control, and she wouldn’t relinquish it now. This was what she wanted—to grind against his hard length, to rub his velvety heat against her in just the way she liked. She wouldn’t have dreamed lovemaking could be so good when begun in anger instead of tenderness … but it was. Oh, it was.

Writhing her hips, she worked herself closer and closer to release. As the sweet tension grew, she released her breath in a low, taunting purr.

“Curse you.” His hips jerked again. “Guide me in.”

And she did. Not because he’d told her to, but because it was what she wanted now. To feel him inside her, filling her, thrusting with helpless abandon.

She clutched his neck and stared at the ceiling. He gripped her thighs and pressed his face to her throat. There was no more eye contact, and no more conversation. Just a frantic rhythm and building sensation and a climax so sharp, so stunning, her mouth fell open in a silent scream.

He growled against her shoulder, filling her deep as he reached his own peak.

And in the aftermath, as he slumped breathless and shaking against her—a miracle occurred. Amelia put her hands on his shoulders. And then she pushed him away. The physical bliss of her climax had nearly split her in two, but her anger and confusion remained intact. She had no foolish desire to hold him, to cradle him close and stroke his hair. No deep, secret wish to hear him murmur words of praise and love in her ear. She’d taken what she wanted from him, and she was satisfied.