“Leave them on, darling. You have no idea how gorgeous you are.”
Scooping her up, he carried her to his bed, laying her down and arranging the veil so that it draped over her shoulders and flat belly.
“Beautiful.” He kissed the soft skin under her bellybutton.
Lauren’s hands smoothed over his wide shoulders. “Beautiful,” she repeated.
When he settled his mouth against the flesh between her thighs, she arched into the heat of his tongue, an inarticulate cry escaping her lips. With a groan of absolute hunger, Theodore gripped her hips, holding her still for the lashing of his tongue as he drove her over the edge within a matter of minutes.
Kissing his way back up her body, he lavished attention to her breasts, licking and tugging them deep into his mouth before giving the hard buds a teasing nip from his sharp teeth. When she was writhing beneath him again, he chuckled and began ravishing her mouth. Sliding his tongue along hers, he plunged deep and slow until she was whimpering for more, her hands frantically pulling at his body so he would come inside her.
Reaching a hand down between them, Theodore swept two fingers along the slick folds of womanly flesh. With sly purpose, he brushed over her clitoris, laughing softly when she shuddered.
“So wet. Wet and ready for me to take you. Are you ready, darling wife?”
“Please, Theodore. Have mercy on me. Make me yours,” she moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck and attempting to pull him down harder on top of her. “I need… more…”
“Yes, love. I know you do, and I will give you that and more—anything you ask of me.” With a quick motion, Theodore flipped her onto her stomach, his arm anchoring under her belly and lifting so that her bottom was raised higher in the air.
She squealed with the abrupt motion, but as he instructed her on what he wanted, she obeyed with a tortured moan of anticipation. Braced on her knees, face pressed to the coverlet and the veil pooling over her bare back, she was quite a sight. When her arms extended out above her head, her fists gripping the bedclothes, Theodore knew he’d never seen a woman so damned beautiful.
Standing beside the bed, he moved so that he was between her thighs. Her sex glistening with need, a quivering sigh escaped her when he smoothed a hand over the twin globes of her bottom. Perfectly round, the color of cream, and smooth as silk, they called for his hands. To mark them. To soothe them.
He gave one side an experimental swat and was rewarded with a surprised cry that died off in what might be a strangled groan of pleasure. His cock jerked in response. He treated the other side to the same, and Lauren gripped the counterpane harder. Her hips circled before jutting back toward him.
“Wait, darling. I’m coming in. Open for me. Open.”
Taking his cock in hand, Theodore rubbed himself over the exposed flesh of her sex, gratified when she rocked against him, murmuring incoherently. He thought about making them both wait—making them both suffer the delicious torment of delayed satisfaction, but he couldn’t. Not when she made such intoxicating sounds of need. Not when she moved so wantonly. He was mad for her and she for him. He needed her. Now.
Sliding inside her heat was like coming home. It was everything. It was warmth. It was silk. It was love and comfort and a sense of belonging. It was Lauren. That was enough.
“Christ, Lauren. I’ll never get enough you. Never.” He began moving, going so deep he felt the cusp of her womb, his hands gripping her hips, holding her steady for his conquering. He took her pleasure, gave it back a hundred times over, and in return, exploded with ecstasy he would never deserve. He climaxed inside her just as she reached a pinnacle so pure, so sweet it left her sobbing with its beauty.
Theodore collapsed beside Lauren, embracing her so hard she might have found it difficult to breathe in the circle of his arms. Tears dampened his own cheeks.
“You are a gift, Lauren, and I’ll spend the rest of my days thanking God for you.”
The clock struck midnight, and Lauren lifted her head as the final chime died away, studying the features of the man she loved. In the dim light of the room, she saw the faint tracks where tears stained his cheeks. That she possessed the power to wring such emotion from this powerful man was frightening. That he held the same power over her was terrifying.
And beautiful.
His eyes fluttered open, the blue depths shadowed, but Lauren did not need to see within them to know how he felt.
“It’s Christmas,” she whispered, her heart swelling with love.
“Yes,” Theodore replied, rolling so she was beneath him yet again, their mouths meeting over and over. “Let us celebrate with a kiss and a reminder, wife. I am yours, and you are mine. Forever.”
About April Moran
April enjoys writing both historical and new adult romance with a generous splash of heat. When not penning tales of passion, she enjoys traveling with her husband, attending rock concerts with friends, and time spent with family. Brainstorming new storylines is best done while riding her horse or on long walks with her German Shepherd. A tumbler of good whiskey helps tie all the details together and brings her characters to life.
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Her Virgin Duke
by Nicola Davidson
Chapter 1
London
Early December, 1815
“Please don’t do this. Choosing a bride from a list of names is a terrible idea. It’s so…so cold.”
Bennett Innsworth, Duke of Tunbury, sighed as his younger sister Judith’s fervent words shattered the peace in his library. Last summer she had married her forever love, and while he’d once craved the same joy for himself, now he knew better. When ladies looked at him they didn’t see the dashing hero of their dreams or a seductive bedfellow, just a lofty title held by a man who took his duties so seriously that he’d been nicknamed Humdrum Tun. The moniker stung, but then facts often did. He was just so damned reserved and awkward, possessing none of the charm and droll wit that most ton men effortlessly displayed. Besides, who else but a noble daughter would accept the burden of being his duchess? She would need to manage multiple households, act as his hostess for political dinners, undertake charitable works, help him navigate the viper pit known as Polite Society, and tolerate his attentions long enough to birth an heir and spare.
Not exactly easy tasks, even for a coronet and substantial allowance.
“It is eminently sensible,” he replied. “All five ladies on the list hail from ancient families, are the right age, and have excellent manners.”
Judith scowled as she paced the room. At only a few inches shorter than his own six feet, those legs covered a lot of ground. “The same could be said of most Thoroughbreds. Don’t you wish to at least like your future wife?”
“I’m sure we’ll rub along tolerably well. I can’t expect more than that.”