The Duke of Ruin (The Untouchables Book 8) Read online

  Her anxiety grew as he stared at her for a long moment, but then his features softened, and his mouth curved into a smile that made her heart pound.

  “You stole my thunder.” He took her hand. His flesh was warm. Electrifying. “I’d planned to ask you again in the morning.”

  Joy mixed with relief, and she relaxed. “You did?”

  “It seems the best solution, don’t you agree?”

  Yes, it was a solution. Just as her engagement to Kilve had been a contractual arrangement, so was this. It was a means to an end. Precisely what her father had always intended. And, whether he liked Simon or not, Diana would be a duchess.

  “I do. Are you sure you don’t…m-mind?”

  Furrows ran along his forehead, and he stroked his thumb across the back of her hand. “I can think of no one else I’d rather marry. Is it acceptable to you? Your speech—I notice it falters a bit when you’re upset.”

  Self-loathing poured through her. She tried to take her hand away, but he held her firmly. She didn’t want to talk about her speech, so she ignored what he said. “Yes, it’s acceptable.”

  He tipped his head to the side, his gaze soft and compassionate. “Your father won’t be able to hurt you anymore.”

  Again, she tried to withdraw. This time, he held her even more tightly and pulled her toward him so that they almost touched. “What did Verity tell you?” she asked, hating to think her cousin had laid her secrets bare.

  “Nothing specific. And I don’t wish to intrude. Just know that I will always do my best to keep you safe.” His gaze was so intent and his tone so rich and candid that she couldn’t help but believe him.

  She wanted to ask him if he was sure he wanted this. Forcing him into something had never been her intent. But then she hadn’t really had an intent. “I can’t help but think we didn’t plan this very well. I never should have dragged you into this.”

  He squeezed her hand and gave her a half smile. “I offered my services if you recall. Whatever anyone may think of me, I possess an unabashedly romantic nature. I wanted Nick and Violet to be together—they deserve their happiness. But it was equally important to me—and to Nick—that you not be left alone to bear the brunt of his stupidity.”

  “I should have realized our proposed marriage was doomed before it even started. Neither of us were very enthusiastic. Not really.” All her excitement—every last dollop—had come from the idea of escaping her parents.

  “Is this the same way?” he asked quietly, his gaze dropping to where their hands were still joined.

  “I don’t think so.” She kept her voice low, as if speaking too loudly would ruin whatever was transpiring between them—this combination of comfort and anticipation. “It feels…different.”

  She hadn’t given much thought to kissing Nick—or doing anything else with him. He’d given her a chaste kiss on the cheek once or twice, but she hadn’t even touched his bare hand. With Simon, however, she could remember kissing him. Even before they’d embarked on this ill-fated journey, they’d kissed and she’d thought of it often. And after kissing him in Brereton, she wanted to do it again. And again. Not to mention whatever else he wanted to teach her in the bedroom. Nick had agreed to give her space, to postpone having children—meaning delay sexual relations. She and Simon had made no such arrangement.

  She gathered her courage and asked, “Is this to be a true marriage?”

  He pulled her closer until her chest met his. “If you’re asking whether I want you to share my bed, the answer is an unequivocal yes. But only if that’s what you want.”

  She took her hand from his and laid her palms against his chest. The cotton lawn of his shirt was thin enough that she could feel his heat through the fabric. Since she’d seen his bare chest in the firelight, she’d wanted nothing more than to touch him, to feel him.

  She inched her hands up until they framed the opening in the neck of the shirt. “Yes, that’s what I want.”

  Rising on her toes, she pressed her mouth to his. He swept his arms around her and crushed her to his chest. Their lips moved together, tempting and teasing, until, impatient, she opened and invited him inside. Rapture made her body pulse with need. She pushed up against him, seeking to feel him any way she could.

  She wanted him now. Her body screamed for his. That sensation he’d built in her…cunny, that was what he’d called it, came roaring back.

  His hands caressed her spine, then one crept up to her neck. He found her braid and gave it a gentle tug, pulling her head back slightly as he devoured her mouth.

  She nearly melted in his embrace. Wrapping her hands around his neck, she held on for fear she’d simply dissolve into the carpet.

  His hand cupped her hip, and he brought her pelvis flush against his. The hard rod of his cock surprised her, but it felt divine. She pressed into him, desperate for that sweet release he’d shown her too many days ago in Coventry. Her hips rotated, seemingly of their own volition, as she sought satisfaction.

  His lips left hers, and she gasped, both from needing a deep breath that she didn’t think she’d be able to find in her heightened state of arousal and because of the exquisite things he was doing to her body. One hand moved along her neck, teasing her flesh; the other massaged her hip and behind, spurring the frantic movements of her hips. And his mouth, God, his mouth. His lips slid across her jawline until he found her ear. He nipped the lobe, then licked at it before descending along her neck with long, lush strokes of his tongue.

  “Simon, please.” The words spilled from her mouth with abandon. She had no control, nor did she want any. She gave it freely to him and to her body.

  His hand came up her side and brushed the underside of her breast. She sucked in a breath as the sensation pooled in her loins migrated north. Her breasts tingled. He slid his hand inside her dressing gown and fingered her nipple through the thin cotton of her night rail. It grew instantly hard, and she arched into his touch, aching for more.

  His mouth was on her collarbone, just inside the edge of her gown. With a harsh, ragged breath, he lifted his head. “We’ll be wed soon. This can wait.”

  The hell it could. She’d been waiting her whole life for this. For him. “I don’t think I want to. What does it matter?” She clutched at his neck, not wanting to let him go.

  He didn’t release her either. In fact, his fingers continued their soft, gentle assault on her breast. His movements were quite at odds with what he’d said.

  “I don’t think I want to either.” His lips spread into a self-deprecating grin. “Clearly.” His hips twitched against hers, reminding her of the steel of his erection—as if she could forget. And his hand finally stilled. “Nevertheless, I’m going to wait until we’re wed.”

  She groaned in frustration, tugging at the ends of his hair brushing over his nape.

  He arched a brow at her. “Have you forgotten what I taught you in Coventry? You needn’t go to bed wanting.”

  “Of course I haven’t forgotten. But I haven’t tried it alone. I’d rather you did it. I suspect that’s better anyway.”

  Now he groaned, his head tipping forward as he brushed his lips against her forehead. “You are a temptress.” He brought his hands to her face and cupped her cheeks. “And you’re mine.”

  “Apparently, not yet,” she said with dark disappointment.

  With a flick of his fingers, he untied her dressing gown. Then he bent slightly at the knees, his hand whisking up the end of her night rail. She felt his fingertips against her bare thigh.

  Gasping, she breathed his name. “Simon.”

  “Isn’t this what you want?” He caressed her bare flesh, moving slowly but specifically toward her core. “If it’s not, tell me now.”

  “It’s what I want.” So badly.

  He lifted her and carried her the few steps to the bed, setting her on the edge of the mattress. His dark eyes stared into hers, his dark lashes fanning out over the narrowed slits. “Open your legs.” The command was silkily seduct
ive, and she obeyed it without hesitation.

  “Do you remember what happens next?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “This will be a bit different. I’m going to put my fingers inside you.” His thumb found her clitoris and teased it. “You like it when I touch you here. You’ll also like it when I’m inside—and this will give you an idea of what will happen after we’re wed.”

  “Then you’ll put your cock inside me,” she said huskily.

  He pushed out a breath that sounded a bit like a grunt. “Yes.”

  His fingers teased at her folds, coaxing her to open even more. She fully relaxed and yet tensed at the same time as her body reacted to the growing pressure and desire. Then he did what he said; he slipped his finger into her. She clutched his shoulders and gasped loudly.

  He kissed her then, his mouth taking command of hers and driving his tongue into her. She met his thrusts with her tongue and with her hips. He felt so good inside her, as if they were meant to be joined.

  His thumb grazed over her clitoris again, and she dug her nails into his shoulders. His pressure increased, and he used his hand relentlessly, pushing her to the edge of reason, that dark and beautiful place where she’d come apart before.

  He tore his mouth from hers and kissed along her cheek before whispering against her ear, “Come for me, Diana.”

  Her body quivered and then shattered as her orgasm broke over her. His movements increased, taking her through those hysterical moments and guiding her to the bliss on the other side.

  Their ragged breathing filled the room as her body sagged with satisfaction. She opened her eyes and blinked, focusing on him. His face was taut, his eyes dark with lust. “What about you?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  “You said that last time.” And she wasn’t having any of it. “Show me what to do.” She reached for the hem of his shirt, her hand brushing against his cock.

  Simon quirked a smile at her. “You’re not going to let me refuse, are you?”

  She shook her head firmly. “Absolutely not.” She tugged the shirt up, and he helped her pull it over his head.

  When his chest was bare to her, she smoothed her hands over the hard plane. “I’ve wanted to do this since you took off your shirt in front of the fire.”

  His breath caught as her fingertips trailed across his nipples. “You were watching me?”

  She met his gaze and felt a bit of heat in her cheeks. “Guilty, I’m afraid.”

  His finger grazed the underside of her chin. “Don’t ever feel guilty for anything you want where I’m concerned, and don’t feel guilty for wanting pleasure.”

  “My mother told me that what happens between a man and a woman is a necessary evil to beget children. Even kissing isn’t to be tolerated.”

  “Is that why you were so shocked when I kissed you at the house party?” he asked.

  She continued to stroke his chest. She loved the feel of his muscles and was fascinated by the light sprinkling of hair between and around his nipples. She traced along his collarbones and back down over his chest. “No, I was shocked because I liked it.” She lifted her gaze to his once more and saw the stark desire burning in their depths.

  Trailing her hand over his abdomen, she felt his intake of breath more than heard it. She found his waistband, then the buttons of his fall, undoing first one side and then the other until the front of his breeches dropped open.

  He was nude beneath, his cock jutting proudly toward her.

  “I pulled these on in a hurry,” he explained. “When you knocked on the door.” He sounded hoarse, as if his throat were constricting.

  “You’re supposed to be telling me what to do,” she said.

  “Right.” He reached up and raked his hand through his hair, coaxing the strands to stand on end. It made him look wild.

  She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his chest, near his nipple. “You’re terribly attractive.”

  “Are you sure you need direction?” he asked tightly. “You seem to be doing just fine.”

  She smiled against his heated flesh. “What should I do with my hand down here?” She brushed her fingers against the base of his shaft.

  “The thing to know about a cock is that it likes to be touched—in pretty much any way. It likes to be buried inside you best of all, but absent that, your hand can mimic a fair imitation. So can your mouth, but we’ll leave that for another time.”

  Diana was incredibly intrigued. “My mouth?” She looked down at him and ran her fingers along the length. He twitched, the flesh jumping in her hand. He was so warm and soft there, but hard too of course, beneath the velvet of his skin. She licked her upper lip.

  “Diana. Not tonight,” he rasped.

  She looked up at him, intending to argue, but didn’t. She’d do whatever she damn well pleased. She closed her hand around his shaft. “Is this right?”

  “Yes. Now move it up and down. Remember when I showed you how to pleasure yourself, how important it was to keep up the pressure and move quickly, especially as your orgasm builds?”

  She thought she understood where he was going. “I should move my hand rapidly up and down, from base to tip?” She did what she asked, enclosing her hand around him as tightly as she dared.

  He groaned, and she glanced up to see his lashes flutter down over his eyes and his head tip back. Was he enjoying this? She loosened her grip slightly. “Too tight?”

  “No, don’t stop.”

  She leaned down and touched her lips to the end of his shaft where a tiny bead of moisture had pooled. She licked at it with her tongue and was surprised by the thick, salty flavor.

  “Diana.”

  She looked up once more and narrowed her eyes at him. “My entire life people have told me what to do and when to do it. I want to put you in my mouth. You can tell me how or suffer whatever I manage to come up with.”

  A dark, warm laugh escaped his mouth. “God, you’re amazing. It will be easier if you kneel in front of me. Take me as deep as you like. Or not, it’s up to you. There’s no right or wrong. Use your tongue. Hell, you can even use your teeth—gently, of course.”

  Her teeth? That never would have occurred to her, and she still wasn’t sure how she would do that without causing injury. But the rest she could do. Her breasts tingled and her core throbbed again with need, as if she hadn’t already had an orgasm. She slipped from the bed, and he pivoted so she could kneel before him.

  “Simon, is it possible to have more than one orgasm?”

  “Uh, yes, particularly for women. It’s less common for a man—we take a bit of time to recuperate. Any man worth his salt takes great pride in making a woman come multiple times, and after we’re wed, I’ll show you precisely what I mean.”

  The desire pulsing through her rose to a crescendo, but she pushed it aside to focus on him. She wanted to bring him pleasure—to do for him what he’d done for her. What he promised to do for her over and over. Anticipation curled through her veins as she touched her lips to the end of his cock.

  She gripped the base and opened her mouth, drawing his flesh slowly inside. He glided over her tongue, and she relished the silky softness of his flesh.

  “God, Diana. Yes. That’s”—he grunted—“perfect.”

  She thought of what he’d said—take him as deep as she wanted. Opening wider, she sucked him farther inside until he neared the back of her mouth. He pulled back, then pushed forward slowly. She recalled the movements of his fingers inside her. His cock would move the same way. Which was why she was supposed to move her hand up and down the shaft. She did that now, pulling back with her mouth and bringing her hand up, then plunging forward again with her hand and mouth.

  His moan filled the room and his hand wrapped in her braid, holding her head while she moved her mouth and hand over him. She felt him tense, then he withdrew from her completely. When she tried to draw him back, he caressed her cheek. “Diana, my orgasm includes spilling my seed.”


  She looked up at him. His eyes were opened to bare slits. “I know,” she said.

  “If you don’t stop, I’m going to spill it down your throat.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Some women don’t like it.”

  She didn’t like thinking of him with “some women.” Or with any women. And yet he’d been married. Had his wife done this for him? Had she let him come in her mouth? She would never ask, and decided it didn’t matter. There could be no place in their marriage for her jealousy, not of the woman he’d loved.

  “I want you to.” She gripped his hip with her free hand and drew him back into her mouth, not giving him a chance to talk her out of it. Increasing the pressure of her hand, she used her tongue, as he’d said, and licked along the underside of his shaft. Then she grazed her teeth over the tip. He swore passionately. Yes, that’s what he’d meant.

  She smiled as she took him back in. Then there was no time for thought, just losing herself in the rhythm of this joining, of the give and take of their bodies. He tensed again, and she tasted something at the back of her tongue. He shouted, his hand cupping her head, and then his seed coursed into her mouth, filling her with heat and rapture.

  When he was finished, she felt him sag against the bed. The muscles in his thighs quivered. She pulled away and wiped her hand over her mouth, leaning back on her feet.

  His hands cupped her elbows, and he drew her to stand. “That was astonishing. I am humbled by your generosity. And enthralled by your skill.”

  She laughed. “I can’t imagine why. I’ve no experience whatsoever.”

  “Experience doesn’t matter, not when you’re naturally talented.” He winked at her before retrieving his shirt and pulling it on over his head. “You should get back to your room. We’ll be leaving very early.”

  She looked at him in surprise as she tied her dressing gown closed. “But we have to arrange everything first.”