Free Dark Duke by Sabrina York Page A

good?”
    “Yes. More. More.”
    He chuckled, though she could tell he was slightly
distracted. His features were taut, his skin stretched over his cheeks. His
color ashen. “Demanding wench. Ah!” Another plunge, another. “So tight. Jesus.”
    She shuddered around him as spirals of delight rose within
her. She couldn’t believe it, but she knew her crisis was rising again.
    He moaned as she clenched, and his lunges deepened. They
became shorter, faster, harder, each and every one hitting the mark.
    She buried her face in his throat, trying to muffle her
squeals. It was phenomenal, this feeling, this possession, this bliss. In and
in and in. She wanted it to go on forever.
    And, Lord love him, it did.
    Her arse burned, as did her nipples, for with his every
move, the wiry hair on his chest abraded them. But it was delicious. She loved
it.
    And then his strokes took on a new intensity, a harsh,
desperate tenor. His cock swelled inside her and with it, the unbearable
tension, the agonizing need for—
    Her body seized. Everything narrowed down to one exact point
of her being. That quivering place in her womb, kissed as it was by his furious
thrusts. Her vision went black as delight, unlike anything she had ever known
or dreamed of, took her, shook her. Wave after crashing wave of delicious
delirium washed over her until there was nothing left but the awareness of his
cock, jerking inside her, bathing her with warmth.
    In the end, there was nothing left of her that wasn’t part
of him.

Chapter Eight
     
    Edward wasn’t sure how he came to be in the drawing room at
teatime that afternoon. Normally this was a happenstance he would avoid at all
costs.
    It was probably Kaitlin’s fault.
    After their astonishing frolic that morning, he would follow
her almost anywhere. While he considered himself a man of the world, no
delusion would allow him to belittle the impact of their encounter.
    It had been, in a word, transporting.
    Funny that. He’d been with some of the most highly trained
courtesans in the world. Partaken in the most debauched activities. Had a damn
lot of fun.
    This had not been fun .
    It had been divine. Better than divine.
    He’d spent a great deal of time after she’d left his study,
trying to think of a word that described what they’d shared, but he couldn’t.
Every word he came up with sounded feckless and shallow.
    In fact, he was feckless and shallow. When he looked
on the endless parade of mindless diversions his life had become, he was
mortified. What was it about her that made him look at himself with fresh eyes?
What was it that made him see—finally see—what was missing?
    She was no courtesan. No practiced whore. But that
fuck—though he had to allow it had been much more than a mere fuck—had been the
best of his life.
    He wanted more.
    So here he was. Following her like a dog.
    Enduring anything just to have the opportunity to be with
her. Look upon her glowing smile.
    Yes, he would even follow her into the maw of certain doom
that was teatime with the Wyeths of Perth.
    They weren’t all there. Thank God for small favors. The
younger ones had been taken to the park in the middle of the square by a brave
and enterprising maid—who would be getting a promotion—to rain their terror on
the neighbors for a while.
    Only Hortense, Violet, Ned, Malcolm and of course Kaitlin
and himself sat around the tea table.
    She looked beautiful, serene, quietly working on an
embroidery hoop as the others chatted. Edward occupied himself with devising a
strategy for getting her alone again. And soon.
    He should probably have her in a bed the next time. The
divan had been a trifle limiting—
    “Well,” Aunt Hortense gusted, scattering his thoughts to the
four winds. “I had a missive from Perth.”
    “Really?” Violet raised a brow.
    “Apparently Agnes is on her deathbed.” Hortense poured
another cup of tea.
    “Finally,” Malcolm grumbled. Ned kicked him under the table.
    “How many times is