He didn’t move, save for his rising erection.
But when she’d slipped off her chemise, exposing her large, resplendent breasts, and began unbuttoning the waistband of her skirt, temptation was too great for a duke who had commanded the world since adolescence. Jerking her to her feet, he shoved her skirt and petticoat down her hips, pushed her back on the bed, and fell on top of her fully dressed and shod, still unbuttoning his trousers.
“Don’t say I didn’t try,” he said through clenched teeth, swiftly guiding the head of his cock to her sex. “And don’t fucking say I hurt you.” Goaded past the point of civility, he flexed his quads, swung his hips forward, and plunged into her sleek, ripe body.
He wouldn’t have had to worry about injuring her, his forward progress unimpeded in the slippery heat of her well-lubricated cunt. Relieved, gratified, mostly lecherous and lustful, he settled into a deft, experienced rhythm sure to please his partner and ultimately himself.
Today, everything about Fitz intensified her frenzied ardor-his restive need, the wildness in his eyes, his smooth, restrained thrust and withdrawal that brought a thin beading of sweat to his forehead, the erotic sensation of him fully clothed under her hands, over her, the titillating friction of his trousers on her thighs. He was as hot-headed as she, as skittish and high strung. As immune to reason.
He’d waited for her to return. She knew the feeling; she’d been waiting for him ever since the first night he made love to her. And now he was offering her pleasure as only he could and she wanted it all-every enchanting measure-until he left her. As he would most certainly, she sadly knew. But not right now.
“You please me, darling Fitz,” she whispered, her orgasm fast approaching, passion and tenderness a feverish, heady tumult that warmed her heart and soul.
He looked surprised for a fraction of a second at the winsomeness in her voice, then he raised one brow and smiled. “You’re the sunshine of my life,” he softly said in return, braced his shoe soles against the foot of the iron bedstead, and pleased her even more.
SLIDING OFF HIS jacket and shoes, Fitz held Rosalind close after their first frantic passions had been appeased, her head on his shoulder, the warmth of her body pressed against his. Advising himself against making more sexual demands, he politely made conversation. “Tell me,” he suavely remarked. “How did you like Dr. Swindell? ”
“She was very nice.” Stretching upward, Rosalind kissed his cheek before resting her head on his shoulder once again. “She’s ever so pleasant. By the way, she sent condoms home with me.” She sat up and smiled at Fitz. “I was warned to be vigilant against disease.”
Not entirely sure whether she was serious, he said, “If you want me to use a condom, I will.”
She wrinkled her nose. “At the time, it sounded reasonable, but now I’m not so sure. Am I being incautious? ”
“If you’re asking whether I’m a threat, I’m not.”
“What about”-she reminded herself she was going to be adult about their carpe diem relationship-“others.”
He didn’t immediately answer because he was tempted to say he was uninterested in other women. But he wasn’t quite so irrational. “I’m always careful,” he said instead. “If the circumstances warrant, I use a condom. You decide, though. If the doctor thinks you should, we’ll use them.”
“I’m angry with you when I have no right,” she said with a sigh.
“We’re both in no man’s land, darling. I can’t stay away as you know.” He shrugged faintly. “I’ve decided not to think about it.”
“I did as well until I saw you waiting for me, and then I went crazy.”
He grinned. “We’ll go crazy together.”
“I must say, you do have the most delicious methodology in that regard.” Pleased that she wasn’t alone in her lunacy, she dropped back down on his shoulder and tracing a finger along his jaw shadowed with late-day stubble, changed the subject to something less fraught with emotion. “The doctor had the most gorgeous rose garden. It was absolutely stupendous.”
“In what way? ” He was uninitiated in the merits of stupendous gardens.
“She had every imaginable color rose. They spilled over her garden wall, ran up trellises, covered the entire yard space like a carpet. It looked like a fairy-tale land. She has a gardener, though, which accounts for the garden’s pristine condition, and of course, she has the money to buy all those gorgeous roses.”
“Would you like some roses?” Jewelry was unacceptable, he’d discovered, although sex toys were well received. But he would have liked to buy her other things. A novel feeling after a lifetime of having his retainers buy gifts for his lovers.
“No, no… I don’t have time to take care of a garden in any event. But thank you for asking. It was just so beautiful, that’s all… it caught my fancy. And speaking of things catching my fancy,” she purred. “I do believe its been at least five minutes since I climaxed.”
“Do you think it’s wise? ” An indication of his affection. He would not in the past have been so altruistic.
“Don’t even start again,” she said with a delicious pout.
“Very well,” Fitz replied, understanding there were times to hold one’s ground and times not to. “Let me see to my obligations.” Setting her aside, he sat up and began undressing.
“That’s better,” she lightly said. It would never do to pretend making love was anything more than a game. “And I have orders for you this time.”
Chapter 25
THEY WERE WAKENED early by a loud rapping on the door.
“I’ll go,” Rosalind said, not about to let Fitz open the door. Still half-asleep, she stumbled downstairs to find a telegram messenger at her door and instantly went pale. Outside of the business community, telegrams were only used in emergencies-generally for deaths in the family. Her hand was trembling as she took the telegram from the young boy.
After the youth was gone, she stared at the folded sheet, fainthearted. Finally, she shut her eyes, ripped it open, took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and quickly scanned the brief message.
GROVELAND’S AGENT WAS Here TO DISCUSS Sale Of YOUR STORE WITH MOTHER and FATHER. TWENTY THOUSAND IS a FORTUNE. Very STRONGLY ADVISE YOU ACCEPT Offer WITHOUT delay. ALGERNON.
Her fear turned to anger, and for a moment Rosalind couldn’t decide where first to direct her wrath: at Fitz for sending the agent or at her brother for meddling in her life. As usual.
Since Algernon had the advantage of being beyond range, it was left to Fitz to bear the brunt of her displeasure. However, after a night of incredible bliss and given her unquestionable affection for the man who was the source of unalloyed sexual pleasure, she found herself unable to dredge up a suitable rage. After all, only the day before yesterday he’d said again that he intended to do everything he could to buy her property. She certainly couldn’t accuse him of guile.
By the time she walked through the store and ascended the stairs, she’d calmed down. If she wanted Algernon’s advice, she’d ask for it. As for Fitz’s attempt to influence her family, apparently neither her mother or father had been persuaded. A point for her side, she decided.
Entering the bedroom a few moments later, she held the telegram aloft. “No one died I’m happy to say. Instead, my brother sends news of your agent’s visit. Apparently, he met with my family and Algernon instructs me to sell to you.”
Fitz was lounging on the bed, and as she spoke he closely assessed her tone and expression, neither of which he characterized as lethal. His smile flashed white against his swarthy skin. “A sensible man, your brother.”
“I should beat you,” she muttered, dropping the telegram on the floor as she moved toward the bed.
His gaze was amused. “Please do.”
“Stop, Fitz! I’m very angry with you.”