Her Mystery Duke by Natasha Blackthorne Read Free Book Online Page B

wood.
    “I shall have to take that as a no, Jeanne.”
    “As you wish.”
    “Can you come by yourself?”
    Her lovers didn’t pry into such matters. So long as she
jogged her hips and moaned a bit, they were happy. Likely, if she pretended to
climax, this gentleman would leave her in peace over this suddenly invasive,
embarrassing matter. But she didn’t feel like pretending for this gentleman and
she couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. That alone made her frightened of him.
    “It is very late, we should sleep.” She made her tone as
firm as was possible with his hand resting so softly, so casually against her
most intimate part.
      He grazed her mons
with his fingertips. Fire flickered upwards through her belly. Her arousal
flared into full life once more. Of their own accord, her hips arched. “Is it
that you’re a little scared for someone else to be in control of your
pleasure?”
    He found and brushed her nub. Where her other lovers had
either not touched or pressed too hard, too soon, he applied just the right
amount of pressure. As though she were touching herself.
    A gasp forced its way up her throat and she bit her lip to
suppress it. Increased wetness flowed over her inner folds.
    “Don’t be scared. Trust me.” He continued teasing her bud
and her hips began to dance to and fro—she couldn’t stop the motion and it made
it harder to keep her legs closed. Her mouth went dry and her heart pounded,
for she was scared. Truly scared. Every instinct of self-preservation she
possessed screamed that this was too risky.
    She didn’t really know him. Letting people inside was
precarious at best.
    This was an unnecessary experience.
    Pretend, let him go to
sleep, and then you can frig yourself to your heart’s content.
    David increased the pressure of his strokes, using a
circular motion, all the while still holding her gaze. Dangerously intimate.
    “Breathe, relax.”
    In one quick burst, she released the breath she hadn’t
realized she’d been holding and with the release of her breath came the sudden
release of tension in the lowest pit of her belly. Swift, violent spasms
convulsed her cunt. Pleasure crashed upon her, sweet, intense and brief.
    She lay gasping.
    God.
    It had happened.
    There was no taking it back now. What had been shared with
him could never be unshared now. What would the ramifications of that be? She
was too overcome at the moment to consider them.
    She waited for the relief, the relaxation to wash over her.
But her tension seemed to be building up again. She became aware that he was
stroking her, gliding over her triangle of hair.
    “Open for me.” His voice was like sumptuous, sensual velvet.
    No mortal woman could have resisted him. Jeanne parted her
legs. Apparently she was mortal after all.
    He delved deeper, his fingers sliding on her wetness.
Entering her. Thrusting in and out. Teasing her. Lingering. No man had ever
done that, not with his fingers. Usually once she was wet, they pressed their
own needs upon her.
    She arched and pressed the soles of her feet to the
featherbed.
    With his thumb, he found her nub again and brushed it. It
grew erect; and sharp urgency surged deep in her stomach, followed by the
sweetest anticipation. Each brush repeated the sensation.
    “David…David…” She writhed and thrashed.
    He thrust his finger into her, pressing firmly on the
forward wall of her channel. Need stabbed through her deepest core. She pressed
her feet harder to the bed, arching up. Crying out.
    He put another finger into her and then began thrusting
while pressing. Her wetness became audible. She had never known she was capable
of putting out such a liberal libation. Her own scent lay heavy in the air. She
was moaning, the sound echoing in her ears loud enough to hear above her
pounding heartbeat. She thrashed, writhed all the more. She pleaded and begged.
Her whole body was shaking. It was frightening but it was happening, again. It
was as though she were dying, losing