The Duke's Guide to Correct Behavior (26 page)

The door opened and she stood there. Wrapped in a dressing gown, her hair undone and falling over her shoulders. Her arms were folded over her chest and she held something, some sort of package.

Her expression was—well, he couldn't read it at all. It appeared to be a mix of anticipation and anxiety. Likely other words that began with an A as well, such as agony, appreciation, and approachable.

Imagine if he allowed himself the rest of the alphabet.

She stepped in and closed the door behind her.
“You have not yet proposed marriage to anyone, have you?” she asked, biting her lip.

Dear Lord, he had not. And had no idea how to. “No,” he replied.

“Good,” she said, before he could open his mouth to force out words he didn't know how to say. “Because I am here to return your nightshirt.” And she dropped the package she was carrying on the chair next to the door, opened her dressing gown and shrugged it off, all the while continuing to meet his gaze.

She was, indeed, wearing his nightshirt and nothing more. The fabric reached nearly to her ankles, and he wished he were shorter so the nightshirt would be shorter on her. He really wished he could see more of her legs; he supposed they were likely fine legs, nothing much out of the ordinary, suitable for walking and dancing and all sorts of things, but they were hers, and they were right there emerging from his nightshirt, and he didn't think he'd ever seen anything so deliciously erotic in his life.

Forget being able to ask her anything—he wasn't certain he could remember his own name.

“Marcus,” she said in a low voice, “I want this.” She stepped forward and placed her hands on his shoulders and tilted her face up to his. And then kissed him, sliding her fingers into his hair and tugging him to her.

Her mouth was so delicious. She was so delicious, only he didn't know that for certain, did he? He would have to taste her. Everywhere.

She opened her mouth and licked his lips, then her tongue dove into his mouth and tangled with his, licking and sucking and plundering.

He grasped her arms and then pulled her flush against him, her breasts pressed against him, his cock straining against his trousers. Dear Lord. This felt better than anything he'd ever had, and there were still a few layers of fabric separating him. The exhilaration of her being here, having come here as though he'd summoned her with his thoughts, sent his mind whirling.

Perhaps he didn't need to say anything. Which was likely a good thing, since his mouth was currently occupied kissing her and he didn't think he could speak anyway.

She drew back, a lazy, sensual smile on her face. “I am not wrong in presuming you want this, too?”

Marcus nodded his head, his wiser-than-he-was-at-the-moment hands moving to cup her beautiful breasts. And he would find out for himself, even though he already knew, that they were beautiful breasts.

“Good,” she said, her fingers going to the buttons on his shirt. She slid out each button until they were all undone, then yanked at the hem of his shirt and drew it up over his head. That meant he had to take his hands off her body, but as soon as he was stripped to the waist he returned them, caressing the curve of her breast, running his hands down the indent of her waist to her hips.

Glimpsing the dark triangle of her sex under the white cotton. His mouth grew dry.

“Shall we move to your bed?” she asked, an amused curve on her lips. Apparently he'd been gawking. Not unexpected. It wasn't very often the object of one's obsession walked into one's bedroom wearing only a nightshirt. In fact, he'd have to say that had never happened. Especially not to him.

Marcus nodded again—still couldn't speak—and she took his hand and walked forward to the bed.

She sat on it, her legs dangling down to the floor, and he went to join her, but she pressed her hand flat against his belly, stopping him.

“First I should finish what I started,” she said, licking her lips as she put her hand to the placket of his trousers. His erection tented his pants, and her hand brushed against him, making him flinch.

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice.

He shook his head. “No, it feels good,” he managed to rasp out. So he had not been rendered permanently mute, it seemed.

“Good,” she said, then began to unbutton his trousers. One button, two, then three, and they were loose enough for her to pull them down his legs, and he stepped out of them, wearing only his smallclothes.

She ran her hand against him again, and he shuddered, feeling the touch throughout his entire body. Then she grasped the fabric of his smallclothes on his hips and shoved them down, freeing his erection and leaving him entirely naked.

“Oh my,” she said, her gaze on his cock. Which appreciated the attention, he had to admit, but it would have preferred her touch again.

Thank goodness she seemed to want to touch him, too, since she stretched her fingers out and clasped him in her hand. He nearly came from that alone, but reminded himself he had more than two minutes—they had all night, they had the rest of their lives—and it wouldn't do to waste all this pent-up sexual energy by coming to orgasm now.

She withdrew her hand before his cock could argue his reasoning, and she lay back against the pillows—against the pillow he preferred, and he swallowed against the lump of emotion in his throat.

“You haven't returned my nightshirt yet,” he said, running his hand on her leg as he got onto the bed.

She grinned, then sat up again and drew the nightshirt over her head, tossing it to the floor to join his clothing.

Oh, yes. Her breasts were beautiful. Just the right size for his hand to cup—he knew, he'd checked—and her nipples were rosy pink against the pale whiteness of her skin.

But it couldn't hurt to check again, could it? He leaned forward and slid his hand around the globe of her breast, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin. And then pushed her gently back so she was lying down again and he lay down next to her, on his side, his hand returning to its exploration of her body.

She rolled onto her side as well, so she was facing him, her hand on his hip, her fingers stroking his skin. He wanted her hands everywhere on his body, wanted to have her pet him, touch him, claim him.

He moved his hand to her hip now, running his palm on her curves, back on her arse, loving how round and lush she felt. Then he leaned forward to capture her mouth again, kissing her with an intensity that portended what they were about to do.

And this time, when she pressed against him, there was nothing between them, nothing but their skin touching, his erect cock snug against her belly, his chest against her breasts, his hands everywhere he could reach.

They kissed and fondled and touched until, finally, she broke the kiss and regarded him with a slightly dazed expression. “I arrived prepared,” she said, then got off the bed to retrieve the package she'd placed on the chair.

She withdrew something from the package and held it out to him with trembling hands.

A French letter. A condom.

Dukes must be wary of involving themselves with people who wish to leverage their position at the expense of the duke's. If the duke is unmarried, he is to be extra cautious when dealing with young ladies, who almost certainly wish to entrap him into marriage
.

Unless the duke wishes to be entrapped, in which case it is best to disregard this advice and proceed
.

—T
HE
D
UKE
'
S
G
UIDE
TO
C
ORRECT
B
EHAVIOR

S
he was entirely naked, in a duke's bedroom, carrying a condom. With an equally naked duke lying on his bed waiting for her.

If she weren't actually here, she would doubt it had happened. But she was, and there he was, and so there, in fact, they were.

She returned to the bed and scrambled up, glancing from the condom to his penis. Feeling skeptical one would fit inside the other.

Did condoms come in different sizes? She should know, shouldn't she, having purchased enough over the years? She didn't think Mr. Davies had ever offered a different size, but perhaps the clientele of the brothel had been lesser-sized than the duke?

Never having seen any examples of the appendage in question until now, she couldn't answer that definitively. Only she thought perhaps he was larger than usual.

“How is it you come to have that?” He didn't look appalled, or disgusted, or anything but curious. But he definitely looked curious.

“Well,” she began, “I didn't want to return your nightshirt without considering what might occur. I like to plan things out in advance, you see.”

His eyebrows rose as he pondered what she'd said. Then he shook his head and reached for the condom, sliding it on with barely an indication that it might not fit.

It did fit. Thank goodness. Because if she had to look at him and his skin and his body and all those muscles and the light hair on his chest, she just might die if she didn't get to do everything she'd planned.

Which included, scarily enough, his putting that large thing of his into her. But she would just have to trust it would fit. Look how wrong she'd been about the condom.

“Lily,” he said, a slow smile on his face, “I want this. Come here,” he said as he reached for her, wrapping his strong, muscular arms around her and moving so she lay under him. His body was a warm, welcome weight on hers, his penis hard between them, the hair on his chest tickling her skin.

She reached up to cup his cheek, then ran her fingers over his ever-present stubble. “I want this, too,” she whispered.

At that, he lowered his mouth to hers and positioned his body so he was at her entrance. She would be more anxious about it, only he was already taking her breath away with his mouth, his tongue sliding into her mouth, his hands all over her skin.

And then his fingers at her entrance. He raised
himself up off her, just enough so he could stroke there. He touched her there, in the spot she herself had discovered could bring her pleasure. But his touch was very different from hers, not to mention there were two participants and one of them was the most handsome naked duke she'd ever seen.

Not that she'd seen any handsome naked dukes before, but the fact remained, it was him and she wanted him with an intensity that shocked her. She'd known it would be good, but she hadn't dreamed it would be this good.

And his large appendage hadn't even entered her yet.

He slid his fingers into her folds, and his face eased into a satisfied smile as his fingers touched her slick wetness.

He looked so pleased she couldn't even be embarrassed. Besides which, there was no room for any other feeling but pleasure right now. Later she could be embarrassed.

“Do you like this, Lily?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

She rolled her eyes. “What do you think?” she asked with a soft laugh.

He grinned. “I want to hear you say it.”

She reached around him to cup his backside. It was very firm, and flexed under her touch. “I like this, Marcus,” she said, squeezing him for emphasis.

“Good. Because I have every hope we will be doing this for a long while,” he said, lowering his head to her neck.

“Excellent plan,” she agreed, then let out a low
moan as he licked the skin just behind her ear. He kissed her neck, then moved lower and took her nipple in his mouth.

Oh my. That felt wonderful. His tongue licked and sucked on her, and she felt the warmth and heat of what he was doing spread throughout her entire body.

Down there, plus every other place she could possibly feel anything.

He took his mouth slowly away from her nipple, and then took the other nipple in, as though he were comparing the two.

She moaned again, and arched, desperate for something, for some release of all the pressure building up throughout her body. How was he not inside her already? From what some of her working coworkers had said, men didn't do more than thrust inside until they released. But he, he was taking his time, as though he were savoring her. As though the eventual thrusting and all was but a part of the whole process.

So not only was he likely larger than the brothel's patrons, he was also more patient. She had chosen well when she had chosen this particular naked handsome duke.

Then he moved lower still, kissing her belly and touching her breasts and then lower still so that his mouth was where his fingers had been, and she held her breath, not entirely certain he would kiss her there but really hoping he would.

Because if his fingers felt wonderful, how would his tongue feel?

She only had to wonder for a few seconds
before she got her answer. He licked her with one long swipe of his tongue, and she bit her lip so she wouldn't moan so loudly that they were heard.

He followed that with several more long licks, and she couldn't stifle her moans. He lifted his head and met her gaze. “Do you like this?” he asked, his lips curved into a very satisfied smile.

She nodded, and thankfully, he didn't demand that she speak, since she didn't think she could. He put his mouth on her again, and now he was licking faster, right at that spot she knew would provide release.

Oh, and dear Lord, here it was, and she had a grip in his hair, and his hands were clasping her thighs and he was sucking and licking and blowing soft breaths on her skin that made her want to howl and moan and urge him to keep doing what he was doing, only she really couldn't speak, until finally, eventually, and all too soon, she exploded, feeling as though her whole body had shattered into a million different stars, all of which were falling through the sky.

When she finally recovered, he had moved up to lie beside her, one long leg over her body, his hands on her breasts, his penis poking her hip.

“Did you like that?” he asked.

So she whacked his arm and smiled at him. “What do you think?”

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “I think you did.”

“So now let's see about you,” she replied, taking his penis in her hand.