The Duke I’m Going to Marry (Farthingale Series Book 2) (26 page)

She opened her beautiful eyes and turned to him, ready to take him inside her. He ached for it, too. Soon. Not yet. “It gets better, sweetheart.” He moved down her body, dipping his head lower and taking her with his tongue, his onslaught gentle but relentless against her nether lips, licking and suckling until she was beautifully wild. She arched her back, called out his name, and then he felt the rolling waves of ecstasy begin to engulf her, felt the heave and shudder of her glistening body against his mouth.
“Ian! Ian!”

He loved the raspy softness of her voice.

He drew her up against him, holding her securely in his embrace until her passionate shudders abated and she slowly began to calm. He slid his hands along her hot, damp skin and inhaled her scent, an intoxicating mix of sex and peaches.

He’d pleasured women before and had received sexual pleasures in return, but those had been mere carnal acts, involving nothing of himself. He’d never lost control. Never cared about the woman, just the act of satisfaction. And he’d been careful to choose women who never cared about him either.

Dillie was different. She mattered to him.

“I wasn’t very quiet, was I?” She rested her head against his shoulder, her unsubdued breaths tickling the short hairs sprinkling his chest.

He ran his fingers through her hair, brushing the damp strands off her cheek as he caressed her. “No, you were quite the noisy Farthingale. I didn’t mind.”

She smiled against his ribs. “So, you’re not irritated with me for breaking your rules and talking?”

“No. I liked the breathy way you called out my name.”

He felt another smile against his ribs. “I couldn’t help myself,” she admitted. “I
love
the way you touch me. I never knew it could be like this. No wonder my sisters are so happy with their husbands.”

He chuckled.

“I’m about to ask a stupid question. Promise you won’t laugh.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I promise.”

“Is there more? You see, the way Lily explained it to me... but that was before she’d met Ewan, and her knowledge was only from books—”

“You’re still a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking. There’s so much more to be shared between us. This is only the beginning of our journey.”

“
Our
journey? Sounds nice. How long before we reach its end?”

Never, I hope.
The errant thought surprised him, but it shouldn’t have. He’d been having these thoughts about Dillie for quite some time now. She was his forever girl, if only he could convince her of it. If only he could be sure of it himself. He’d never felt like this with anyone before. He kissed her softly again. “Sweetheart, be patient. We’re just getting started. The journey will last a lifetime, if you’ll let it.” Or unless he did something cruel to break her heart. He never wanted to hurt her.

“Seriously? Even when we’re old and gray?”

He arched an eyebrow and grinned. “Yes.”

Her eyes were still wide and brimming with wonder. “Seriously?”

“If you wish it.”

“Ian, I can’t think beyond tonight.”

“Then don’t. Just feel. The night is young, and I’m not anywhere near done with you yet.”

She snuggled against him once more, her body wrapping around his as he continued to hold her in his embrace. She was slight and slender, yet there was something heavenly in the way she fit beside him. Something perfect. She wasn’t too big. Wasn’t too small. She was Dillie, the temptress of his fantasies.

Exploring Dillie’s body, finally seeing her in all her naked glory—and her body was undeniably glorious—had been his wish for longer than he cared to admit. He’d thought the fulfillment of his fantasy would satisfy his curiosity and allow him to move on. He’d marry her, of course. Provide wealth and respectability. Most important, he’d regain control of his wits, no longer aching for her as he had been these past few years.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

He wanted Dillie.

More than he ever had before.

And he damn well wasn’t going to be satisfied with just one night.

She nudged him, bringing him back from his thoughts and casting him a soft, Dillie smile. “I’m ready for the next step. This is rather a lot of fun.”

***

The butterflies in Dillie’s stomach had always fluttered in a frenzy at the sight of Ian, but as he lay beside her, holding her close in his muscled arms, they were beyond frenzied and caught in paroxysms of delight. Never in her wildest imaginings had she ever thought this moment would arrive, nor had she expected it to be so wonderful.

Nor had she expected Ian to be so wonderful, but he was.

She could see that he had been affected as well. There was a gleam of confusion in his eyes, those beautiful gray-green eyes that never revealed more than amused disdain but tonight revealed a small corner of his hurt and empty heart.

She reached up and kissed him softly on the lips, loving the warmth of his mouth. He’d touched her as intimately as a man could touch a woman—as far as she knew—and despite his rakish reputation, she’d never felt used, never felt that her body was merely a vessel at his disposal, to be discarded once he’d had his fill.

He’d touched her, kissed her, slid his tongue inside her and teased her over the edge, always with affection and consideration. “What comes next, Ian?”

“This.” He ran his fingers through her hair again, brushing the long strands over her shoulder and then easing her onto her back against the soft horsehair mattress. He removed his trousers, revealing the hard, manly length of him, and allowed her to look her fill before he moved atop her. He propped most of his weight on his elbows so that they sank into the mattress on each side of her.

She smiled as she felt the weight of his hard body pressing down on hers, his chest against her breasts, his long legs covering hers, and then all rational thought fled as he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her with enough heat and passion to set the entire inn afire.
Blessed saints and holy crumpets!

He smiled when he ended the kiss, the smoky emerald gleam of his eyes promising something wonderful, promising to guide her to someplace she’d never been.

In that moment, Dillie knew she would follow Ian anywhere. Across a windswept sea. Atop white-crested waves. Along green valleys and majestic mountaintops capped with snow. She wanted to be with him for the rest of her life.

But Ian wasn’t the forever sort.

He would lose interest in her eventually; perhaps he had already lost interest. Perhaps he had never been interested. Rakehells were good at convincing women they were special. Yet all of this felt real to her.

She wasn’t certain what
this
was. For the moment, she had Ian to herself, but for how long? Only tonight? She refused to think beyond the next sunrise. However, if there were consequences to this night, she would write to him at once and agree to marry him. It was one thing for her to remain a ruined spinster, but quite another for her to bring a child into this world out of wedlock. She wasn’t that foolish.

Nor was he. In truth, she knew he’d be at her doorstep with special license in hand before the ink had dried on her letter. He didn’t love her, but he felt he owed her. Ian was the sort who always paid his debts.

His tongue scraped lightly against her teeth. She parted her lips to allow him entrance, eager to surrender to his promise of pleasure. “Dillie. Sweetheart,” he said in a moaning whisper, and then his tongue was in her mouth, plundering and probing her depths. She wasn’t exotic or mysterious. She wasn’t intriguingly deep. She was simple and obvious, often walking around with her heart exposed.

He was the real mystery.

He was the one who held secrets and hid behind the thick walls built around his heart.

She grasped his big, sinewy shoulders, responding to his kisses with a fervent hunger the like of which she’d never experienced before. She touched and swirled and rolled her tongue with his, returning his urgent thrusts with those of her own, until the pleasure overwhelmed her and she dug her nails into his back, slid her hands down his body to cup his firm buttocks.
His golden buns.

She was so hungry for him. He tasted much better than food.

He began to gently knead her breast, his fingers so magical that she melted at his touch. She let out a moan as he began to tease her nipple with his thumb, and moaned again when he teased it to a hard bud that peeked out between the cascading strands of dark hair that he’d earlier brushed over her shoulder. The wondrous sensation of her hair and his thumb rubbing across her now-engorged tip sent waves of heat coursing through her body. “Ian, I’m on fire.”

He smiled against her lips. “So am I, sweetheart.”

She loved his smile. She saw it so rarely, but tonight he had lots of smiles for her. And she loved the way he touched her, sometimes gentle, sometimes urgent, but always seeming to know what she needed and exactly when she needed it. There was a natural, manly grace to his movements, the way his muscles bunched and corded, the way they tautened and strained.

She wanted to watch him, but her eyes closed of their own accord and she felt him instead, felt the skim of his body against hers, felt his strong, solid arms around her. Felt the pucker of the vicious scar that stretched across his belly.

It wasn’t the only one. He had many scars on his body, a sign that he’d endured much cruelty, but all she felt was the gentleness of his touch and the hard heat of him against her fiery skin as he settled between her thighs and poised himself at her entrance.

She wanted so badly to take him in, as though her entire life had been building up to this one moment. “Ian, please.” She arched against him. “Tell me what to do.”

“Your body will tell you. Close your eyes, sweetheart. Feel the way we move together.” She didn’t argue, for he seemed to know what he was about, and she liked the way he began to rub against her slick opening. He let out a low growl that emanated from the back of his throat, a manly growl of arrogant satisfaction.

He thrust inside her, his movements cautious at first, but with each thrust, he went a little deeper, moved a little more urgently, until he’d fully embedded himself inside her.

She wrapped her legs around his waist to better take him in.

“Sweetheart, am I hurting you?”

“No.” She blinked her eyes open to meet his gaze. “I love the feel of you.” He’d been calling her sweetheart all evening long. She liked it. So much nicer than “Daffy,” although he hadn’t called her that in a while. Did it mean he was no longer pushing her away?

She gave no further thought to the matter. Instead, she closed her eyes and reveled in the delicious sensation of Ian’s body as he continued his thrusts. He reached deep into her soul. He stole her heart.

How could her heart ever belong to another now?

Ian made her tingle. Ian made her hot. Ian made her soar higher than she’d ever dreamed possible. Ian made her dream.

His skin felt hot and damp to her touch. His breaths were coming faster now, though she couldn’t quite tell because she was also panting with need. She heard his grunt as he moved deep inside her, and felt his thrusts, now commanding and urgent.

They were on a precipice and she was about to slip over the edge of the volcano and fall into its crater. An intensely satisfying heat swept over her body, just as she’d experienced the first time, when his mouth had been on her most intimate part.
“Ian!”

He kept up the relentless pressure, each thrust sending her closer to the edge, so close she knew she was going to fall.
So close
. The sensation was powerful and exquisite. She wasn’t frightened, for Ian was holding her tightly in his arms. He wouldn’t let go of her. They’d tumble over the edge together. Together. That’s what he’d said he wanted.

That’s what she wanted too.

And then she did fall. Hot waves of sensation flowed over her, drew her upward in their forceful volcanic crests, each molten wave higher than the one before, hotter and more powerful as they coursed through her body with wild abandon.

Ian thrust into her twice more, and then let out a deep, throaty growl as his body pulsed and shuddered against the powerful force of his own release, his muscles so taut they appeared to be sculpted on him.

“Dillie,” he said in a whisper, spilling his seed inside her.

She loved the feel of him inside her.

She loved the scent of his hot, damp skin.

He let out another animal growl, and with one last shuddering heave, collapsed atop her.

The full weight of his big, handsome body came to rest on her. She held onto his shoulders, desperate to cling to him for as long as possible. She wanted to hold on to their journey, for it might be their last. She might never experience this perfect joy again. This was Ian, the man who wouldn’t give his heart to anyone. Would he leave her now that he’d satisfied his curiosity?

Oh, she knew that he would marry her. But did he truly want her?

Ian took another moment to recover his strength, then eased onto his elbows and cast her a tender smile. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

She laughed. “Womanly.”

He kissed her lightly on the nose as he pulled out of her, and then his gaze suddenly turned serious. “How about wifely?”

“As in, will I stop being an idiot and marry you now?”

He rolled her atop him. “Something like that, except I’m the idiot. You’re perfect.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Although her tone was light, she felt overwhelmed and confused. She wanted him. He was determined to marry her. He simply didn’t love her. “Ian, let me sleep on it. You know this isn’t about me. I want to be your wife. Now that I know what happens in the marriage bed, I want it more than ever. Our mating was quite spectacular, but you knew it would be. You’re confident in your prowess.”

He groaned. “Our mating? My prowess? Now you sound like Lily when she lectures about her baboons.”

She laughed again. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

“How about lovemaking?”

“Love.” She nodded. “That’s how I felt when I was in your arms and you were inside me. I felt safe. Protected. Loved. I suppose it’s the right thing to call it, because I did feel all those things. You made me feel wonderful. What about you, Ian? What did you feel?”