The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(51)

God, her honesty. It made him feel taller than a mountain.

And randier than a green lad with his first wench.

“You’re as juicy as a peach, and I’d wager you taste even sweeter,” he rasped.

He spread her thighs wide and prepared to feast.





17





Tessa considered herself well-versed when it came to sexual matters, at least in a theoretical sense. In fact, the Queen of Hearts in her deck of cards depicted a man performing this particular act on a lady sitting atop a throne, her hands holding up her skirts. When Tessa had first seen the image, she’d thought it outlandish: what man or woman would wish to engage in such a perversion? Yet, as always, her first-hand experience with Bennett made her realize how little she understood.

Because the act might be outrageous, but it was also…sublime.

Her embarrassment at having Bennett’s mouth at her intimate juncture was no match for the incendiary pleasure of his kiss. Her inhibitions melted in the searing bliss. As he licked into her secret cove, flames flared in her lower belly.

“Just as I thought,” he muttered. “Sweeter than a peach.”

His words, the feel of them against her damp folds made her shiver helplessly. Then he was licking her sex again, the bold swipes streaking fire down her legs. His tongue edged higher, finding the hidden peak of sensation, and the fire raged out of control.

“Come for me,” he urged thickly. “Give me your juice.”

His tongue flickered like a flame. Hot, teasing. She squirmed as it stoked her desire higher and higher. Suddenly, he drew on her with fierce suction, and she cried out his name as ecstasy blazed through her.

Before the tremors faded, his mouth was on hers. Tasting herself in his kiss sent a shiver of shock through her. He licked her mouth as thoroughly, as masterfully, as he had her pussy, and, despite her recent climax, arousal rekindled in her.

He raised his head. His hot gaze studied her face, and, touching his thumb to her lower lip, he murmured, “Not done yet, sprite?”

“No, I am. That is, I just, um, did.”

Her cheeks flushed as she contemplated how to answer his question. All Pretty Francie and the girls had said about a woman’s pleasure was that it was a rare occurrence. Tessa knew what she’d just experienced with Bennett was wondrous and extraordinary; what confused her, however, was that, even with her recent release, she wouldn’t mind…more?

“I know you came, sweeting.” A smile entered Bennett’s dark eyes. “I’m asking if you want to do it again.”

She blinked. “Is that possible?”

The smile migrated to his lips. “For some women, yes. For you, absolutely.”

“Does that mean I’m a wanton?” she said doubtfully.

Although, if being a wanton meant that she could enjoy that extraordinary pleasure over and over again…maybe she didn’t mind being one.

“It means you’re a sensual, passionate woman.” Tenderly, he tucked a tress behind her ear. “And I’m a damned lucky fellow.”

His words made her heart swell. They also reminded her of another pressing reality. A reality that was, in fact, pressing against her thigh like a bar of iron.

Summoning her courage, she said, “Bennett?”

“Yes, love?”

“Is there anything I ought to, um, do…for you?”

Her courage was rewarded by a look of pure male longing.

“Do you want to?” he asked intently.

“What’s sauce for the goose.” Humor struck her, and she couldn’t resist adding, “Or, more apropos to the situation, what’s sauce for the hen is sauce for the, um…cock?”

He stared at her. Then his shoulders rocked with laughter.

Rather pleased with herself, she said, “Will you show me what to do? How to please you?”

“You do please me, just by being you. But if you want to explore…”

“I do,” she said, nodding eagerly.

“…then do to me what you liked me doing to you.”

She thought about it. “But I liked everything.”

His grin was slow, wolfish. “Then I’m even luckier than I realized.”

A host of ideas crowded her brain, all of them bold, brazen.

Exciting.

“I want to see you,” she blurted. “Without the dressing gown.”

Rising to his knees, he shed the garment. At the sight of his brawny virility, her breath jammed in her throat. He was like a living, breathing Titan: powerfully honed, no excess flesh anywhere, just slabs of muscle rippling on his big frame.

Moonlight silvered the sinew twisting over his broad shoulders and bulging at his biceps. Whorls of dark hair covered his broad chest. The hair narrowed into a trail that drew her gaze downward toward his corrugated abdomen, the prominent vee of muscle that girdled his pelvis, the taut hollows of his hips. And there, hanging between his muscular thighs…

Zounds. He was huge...everywhere. His long, thick cock jutted out like a heavy branch.

She lifted dazed eyes to his. “You’re beautiful.”

His lips tipped up. “Men aren’t beautiful, sweeting.”

“You are,” she said with feeling.

His eyes flared again, and the next instant he was atop her. His hard, warm, naked body pressed against hers for the first time, and she sighed at the heady pleasure. At the arousing contrast between them. She could lie there for hours, just feeling him, being close, skin to skin.