His Grace, The Duke: Second Sons Book Two

Rosalie gasped, her heart racing out of her chest. So, it was true. James was in the room. She didn’t want to believe at first. She didn’t want to hope. But he was here.

“James.” She tried to put everything she felt into the name. “James, please.”

She felt more than heard him moving closer. The music was reaching a crescendo as the singer belted an aria. He sank down on the settee next to her and she turned her face towards him. He dropped his brow against her temple, and they breathed each other in, taking comfort in the other’s presence.

“You’re missing the first act,” he murmured, stroking her cheek.

“I’ve already seen it three times. James, please—”

“Why are you begging me, angel? What do you want?” His low voice was heavy with need. She could tell he was aching as badly as her.

“You know what I want,” she replied, gritting her teeth. She was done waiting. Done with games.

“Say it,” he whispered, his breath hot in her ear, making her shiver with need.

“Put your hands on me, James.”

He ghosted his lips over her skin. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I am desperate for you,” she replied, her body trembling. “Because your every denial splinters my soul, while your every stolen look sets me on fire. I feel your eyes on me, James. I always feel you. I knew you were in the room by the feel of your eyes watching me. I am burning. James, please, just this once, catch fire with me—”

He silenced her with a desperate kiss. His hands raised to her face, gripping her tight as he poured himself into her mouth, opening her deep and claiming all her air. Heavens, to feel him so close, to feel him wanting her—it was everything. But without her hands, she was utterly at his mercy. The punishment game worked with Tom and Burke, but she was done playing games with James.

“Untie me,” she panted, breaking their kiss. “Oh god, James untie me. Now. Need to feel you, need you in my hands.”

His hands went to the knots at her wrists, loosening one, then the other. In moments he had her free and she was throwing herself atop him. They sank to the floor, her straddling him naked. Neither of them bothered to remove her blindfold. She didn’t need it off to share pleasure with him. If anything, keeping it on was helping to ground her in the moment. She could feel him, listen for his heartbeat, his labored breaths, taste the heat of his kisses.

She jerked off her remaining glove and tossed it aside, helping him shed his evening coat, his waistcoat. “Need to feel your skin against mine,” she pleaded.

He unwound his cravat and opened the collar of his shirt and then she was plunging both hands inside the “V,” smoothing them over the warm skin of his chest as she sank her tongue into his mouth.

She broke the kiss, panting for breath. “You should be kissed like this all the time,” she murmured, still cupping his face. “Every hour of the day. Worshipped. Loved. Pursued.”

“You can’t talk to me of worshipping, I’ll go mad.” He smoothed his hands up her sides, cupping her breasts before he took each one in his mouth.

She arched into him, desperate for more.

“The way I want to please you…worship you. I would set you as the axis on which my world spins.”

She stilled, heart racing. With a swift movement, she tugged off her blindfold, letting herself look at him. His lips were parted. Those beautiful green eyes were blown black with desire. She brushed his auburn curls back behind his ears with shaking fingers, licking her lips as she steadied her breath.

“Why must you keep yourself from me? From everyone?” she whispered, tracing her fingers over his lips. “Can’t you see how we all need you? You say I am the one with walls, but I am trying, James. I lower them again and again, begging you to meet me halfway.” She sank against him, pressing her forehead to his, breathing him in. “You have called me a mere distraction, a passing infatuation—”

“Don’t,” he growled.

“Inferior, improper, reckless, loose—”

“Stop.” His expression was pained as he held her gaze, his eyes giving his apology.

But she couldn’t stop. “Is that truly how you feel? Am I an itch you seek to scratch? Will you have me once and then set me aside?”

“No.”

She gripped tight to his shoulders. “Then what am I to you, James?” She could practically hear his heart thundering in his chest, even over the sound of the opera thrumming around them. She waited, eyes wide, praying he would be bold and speak the truth they both so desperately needed to hear.

Suddenly, his eyes heated, his lips closing as he clamped his jaw tight. Warmth simmered off his skin as he pulled her face closer. He dug his fingers into her hair, tipping her head back to hold his gaze. “You are my viscountess.”

Before she could respond, he was flipping her over, laying her down, his hips pressing between hers. She let her head fall back, her fingers digging into his hair as he lowered his mouth to her breasts, worshiping her with his lips, his tongue. One hand snaked between them, and he was sinking his fingers inside her. She bit her lip to silence her cry. His thumb rested on her sensitive bud, providing the most glorious pressure.

“Christ, I can already feel you squeezing my fingers,” he said, his mouth on her breast. “They expect me to finish the job they started. You’re going to come for me,” he ordered, lifting his eyes to hers. “Only me. Choose how you want it, angel. My hands, my mouth, or my cock.”

“All three,” she replied, her double meaning clear. “I will have all three.”

A feral glint in James’s eye told her she should be careful what she wished for. He sank back, keeping his fingers buried inside her as he dropped his mouth to her sex. There was no gentleness, no easing in. He devoured her.

She tipped her head back on a silent scream, too far gone to hold out for a slow-building release. She clenched her legs around his face as the release ravaged her, leaving her breathless.

James worked fast, unfastening the fall of his breeches. “Again,” he growled, positioning himself between her hips. He lined himself up, sliding his hard cock between her legs, teasing her entrance. “Come again. I want you to come on my cock.”

She whimpered, wrapping her legs around him as she silently begged him to enter her. The need was tearing her apart.

His hands softened. “Look at me,” he murmured.

Her lips quivered as she did as he asked, taking in the tenderness of those green eyes that haunted her dreams. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek. “I can’t bear to be apart from you anymore,” she whispered. “I can’t pretend I don’t need you, watch for you, ache for you. No more stairwells. No more shutting me out. Please, James…it’s so cold outside your walls. Let me in—”

With a groan he pressed at her entrance, his cock sliding through her wet heat as he sheathed himself to the hilt. “You’re in,” he panted, his hips grinding her into the floor as he leaned over her. “God help me, you’re in, and I can’t get you out.”

“I love you,” she cried, burying her face in his shoulder as he claimed her so beautifully. “James, I love you. I’ll give you anything. You can have anything if you’ll only let me stay inside your heart.”

She was right on the edge, ready to come apart. She moved with him, chasing her release. She didn’t even care if he came inside her. In fact, a secret part of her thrilled at the idea. She clung to him, ready to ride him out.

But he’d stopped moving. His hips were still. He panted above her, body going tense. Before she could ask what was wrong, he pulled out, shifting back on his knees.

She lifted herself on her elbows. “James—”

“I have to go,” he muttered, already shoving his hard length back inside his pants.

Anxiety gripped her. “What?”

He stood, snatching for his clothes.

She sat up, her arms reflexively covering her naked breasts as hot shame boiled through her. “I don’t understand—”

“It is not for you to understand,” he growled, shrugging on the waistcoat. His cheeks were pink. He couldn’t look at her.

Even through her humiliation, her urge was still to comfort him. She scrambled to her feet as he turned away, heading for the door. She reached out, taking hold of his arm. It was hard as iron, his entire body like a suit of armor. Impenetrable. “James, please—” She was begging, and she didn’t care. A tear slipped down her cheek. “Tell me what I’ve done wrong now.”

He turned, his face a mask of misery and longing. Her James was still inside, hiding behind those shielded eyes, warring with himself. Over what, she didn’t know. But he lifted a gentle hand, brushing her tear away with his thumb. “I will not be the man who breaks your spirit.”

With that, he left.