The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(80)

“I never thought I’d say this,” he murmured, “but I think I prefer you in shirt and trousers.”

The dimness couldn’t conceal the playful twinkle in her eyes. “I’ve received many complements on this costume, you know.”

“I know. I wanted to strangle the bastards who were ogling you.”

“You noticed?” she asked happily.

In the past, he might have mistrusted a woman who expressed delight over his jealousy, but Tessa was different. He knew that she wasn’t playing games. She was honestly happy that he’d noticed her success, that she had someone to share it with.

A fact proved when she went on to say, “It didn’t start off well, but I recalled what you said and held my head high. I ignored Hyacinth and the others like her, and then I met some perfectly charming ladies. They were so nice that you wouldn’t even believe that they’re duchesses.”

Harry did believe it—because they were his sisters. He’d asked Emma and Polly to look out for Tessa, and the pair had been good to their word. “You don’t say.”

Tessa nodded eagerly. “They introduced me to others and my dance card filled and—oh.”

He’d managed to find her nipple, strumming the straining, velvety bud. “You were saying?”

“I can’t talk when you do that,” she said in that breathy voice he adored.

“Shall I stop?”

“Don’t you dare.”

He hid a smile. “Now if you were wearing a shirt, I’d take it off, lick you right here.” His finger circled her other nipple. “Would you like that, sprite? My tongue on your sweet breasts?”

Desire turned her eyes a hazy green. “You know I would.”

Removing his finger, he placed it against her lips. “Suck it for me, love. Make it nice and wet.”

His cock jerked as she laved his digit with her soft tongue, sucking sweetly, reminding him of her oral talents. Breathing raggedly, he withdrew his moistened finger and found her nipples again, going back and forth between them.

“Now pretend I’m licking you, kissing you.” He tugged gently. “Sucking you here.”

Before long, she was making little sounds in her throat.

“At least there’s one good thing about this gown,” he muttered.

“What is that?” She squirmed restlessly against him.

In answer, he ruched up her skirts with one hand. “Hold them up for me, love.”

He went down on one knee. His hands splayed on the bare skin above her pretty, beribboned garters, holding her open to his hungry gaze. Even in the dimness, he could see the dew clinging to her dark nest. His mouth watering, he leaned in.

“Crikey,” she moaned.

One would think a man eating the sweetest pussy he’d ever had wouldn’t want to laugh, but his shoulders shook as he feasted upon her. Crikey was right. She was ambrosia to his senses. He ran his tongue through her drenched petals, searching out her love-knot, flicking that pouting bead, then sucking hard.

She arched against his mouth as she spent, and he groaned, pre-come spurting from his raging erection. Still, her wriggling told him she was not quite finished. He surged to his feet, covering her mouth with his own; simultaneously, he notched his middle finger to her hole. He pushed in slowly on both ends, heat burgeoning in his groin as he penetrated her with finger and tongue.

She took him readily, her spine arching against the shelves. He added another finger, easing into her tightness.

“Too much?” he rasped.

“More,” she moaned. “Oh, Bennett, give it to me…”

She didn’t have to ask twice. He thrust harder, faster, sweat glazing his brow as her little sheath gripped him, her pearl slick beneath his thumb. He kissed her, and she kissed him, and somewhere in that tangle of tongues he felt her quick expulsion of breath. Her pussy fluttered like desperate butterflies around his pistoning fingers, and he swallowed her cries as she reached the summit yet again.

He gentled his kisses and touches as she calmed. She regarded him with dreamy, bliss-filled eyes. God, she was never more beautiful to him than after he pleasured her. He forced himself to rein in his unabated arousal. They’d been gone far too long as it was.

“We need to get you back.” He stroked an escaped tendril from her damp cheek. “But first we must restore your coiffure and frock to rights.”

Her long lashes lifted. A moment later, she dropped to her knees. His heart hammered as she found the fasteners on his waistband, working on them with alarming dexterity.

“After,” she said.



* * *



“Er, after?”

Bennett’s voice came out strangled, likely because she’d shoved his trousers down his hips. But, surely, he didn’t think she would leave him in his present state? She wrapped a gloved hand around his enormous cockstand. He was so aroused that she had to pry the meaty column away from the flexing ridges of his belly. Enough so that she could fit her lips around the bulging head, anyway.

He bit out her name, and she savored the sound, just as she did his delicious musk. She licked up and down the veined pillar of flesh, enjoying the satin-and-steel texture, the way he pulsed beneath her tongue. Remembering his instructions from the last time, she curled her fingers around the root and tried to fit the rest of the shaft in her mouth.