The Duke Effect (The Rogue Files #7) - Sophie Jordan Page 0,75
first one nipple and then moved to the other one, pulling it deep in the hot cavern of his mouth until she was shuddering and crying out, one of her hands flying to his head, diving through the thick strands of his hair, clutching him tightly to her.
His teeth toyed and worried her nipple, growling around it, “How I have longed to do this . . .”
She whimpered as his big hand palmed down her stomach.
She thrust out her chest as he continued sucking her breasts, gasping when his hand dipped between her thighs.
His dark hooded eyes looked up at her and he said thickly, “I think it’s time to return the favor you bestowed on me.”
“Oh,” she whimpered, as much from that hot gaze on her as from the wicked, delicious things he was doing to her.
She quivered as he eased one finger inside her at the exact moment his thumb found and pressed down on a tiny little button of flesh at the top of her womanhood that she didn’t even know existed, which was a shame.
She called herself a scientist!
How did she not know such a pleasure point existed on her own body?
She didn’t have time to dwell on her foolishness. Too much was happening.
She fell back on the bed with a sharp cry, arms flung above her head in total surrender as her body leaped and convulsed.
Jagged little moans tripped from her lips, endless and unremitting as she broke, hot release washing over her. Spots danced before her eyes and then she was floating back down, her body easing.
But not for long. The calm was not to last.
His finger stroked inside her clenching channel, building the ache back to a boil.
She moaned.
“You feel so perfect,” he growled. “So wet, so ready.”
And she was. She heard the wet suction of his finger working in and out of her. She felt the moisture on the insides of her thighs. His finger slipped out to play in the moisture coating her sex. “Is this for me, Nora?”
“Yes.” Her voice rose, broken and trembling.
His gaze fixed on her face as he lifted his finger and tasted it—tasted her, savoring her on him in a display of wicked, wanton pleasure. She didn’t know this man . . . this side of him. She’d had no idea it existed.
A beast intent on devouring her. Every inch of her quivered in anticipation, in greedy hunger for more.
More of the beast.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
“You. I want you,” she croaked. She wanted the beast in him to join with the one that prowled restlessly inside her.
Then he was gone. Moving. Unleashed as though he had been waiting for her permission.
She watched as he hopped up to his feet, gaping as he hastily and gracelessly shed his garments, tossing them aside and revealing the lean lines of his body.
He stood in front of her, as naked as she had seen him last night except he looked much more impressive standing over her in this moment. Bigger. There wasn’t an inch of excess on him anywhere. Perhaps that was what years in the army had done for him, hardened his body so that it was a weapon to be wielded against the enemy.
Right now I want him to wield it against me.
The wicked thought couldn’t be helped.
He was corded with sinew and muscle, skin smooth except for the narrow trail of dark hair that led to that jutting part of his anatomy she was already acquainted with.
Her mouth watered in memory.
Tonight she would feel that cock and not just in her hand. Her womanhood pulsed, aching with emptiness, craving to be filled.
He reached for her, his hands seizing her waist. He tossed her farther back on the bed and then came down over her, spreading her thighs wide to fit his body.
He braced each of his arms on either side of her as his face hovered over hers, tension rippling along his jaw.
His hips settled into the cradle of her body, his cock prodding at the core of her.
“Constantine,” she begged at a whisper.
With a growl, he released himself. Pushed inside her with one slick thrust, filling her, stretching her deliciously.
“Ohh,” she gasped at the unfamiliar burning sensation. “Wait a moment.”
He stilled, obliging, but the pause cost him. She could see that, feel that in the strained look on his face, in the tightness lining his body.
She wiggled under him with a strangled sob, her fingers digging into his taut shoulders as if needing sudden