The Duke of Lies (The Untouchables Book 9)

by Darcy Burke

  She broke the kiss to gasp softly. As she pushed herself up into his hand, he kissed her again, his mouth claiming hers with hot insistence. Need spread from everywhere he touched and pooled low in her belly before sliding down between her thighs. Instinctively, she spread her legs, inviting him between them.

  He adjusted his weight, and she was suddenly aware of him down there. His shaft, long and hard, pressed intimately against her. A splinter of fear sliced into her, but she banished the memories of disgust and pain.

  Trust him.

  She did. She clutched at his hip, holding him tightly to her. With her other hand, she cupped his head and wound her fingers in his hair.

  His hand slid beneath the edge of her dressing gown, moving toward her breast until he cupped the flesh. What began as a gentle caress became more firm and demanding as his mouth plundered hers and his hips began to move against her pelvis.

  Yes, this was what she wanted. She returned his kiss and arched up into him. His hand left her breast, and she felt him working at the tie at her waist. He lifted himself slightly and pushed the gown apart. Then his hand was back on her breast, his fingers teasing her nipple, separated from him now by just a thin, annoying piece of muslin.

  He took his mouth from hers and spread kisses along her jaw and neck, moving down her body until he found her other breast. He closed his lips over her and tongued the fabric. It stuck to her nipple, and he suckled her through the linen. She clasped the back of his head as she moaned.

  Desire pulsed between her thighs, and she lifted her hips, seeking more pressure. He ground down against her, answering her query. His length pressed against her sex, sending a rush of pleasure through her body.

  “Please. Kit.” She wasn’t sure what she was asking for, but she needed something.

  He rolled to her side, and with the loss of his weight and pressure between her legs, she groaned with disappointment.

  “Shh,” he whispered against her breast. He pulled at the neckline of her night rail, dragging it down over her breast. It pulled taut against her neck, but it didn’t hurt. Not that she would have noticed pain as soon as his mouth closed over her bare breast. His lips and tongue teased and tormented her all while his other hand moved up her leg, pushing her night rail to her waist.

  Cool air rushed over her thighs, her sex. But then his hand was there, his fingers trailing through her curls. He traced around her opening, driving her mad with need.

  “Kit.” Again, she wasn’t sure what she wanted but knew it involved him touching her there.

  Then he did.

  Lightly at first, his fingertips tracing softly over the folds of her flesh. He stroked and pressed with his fingers, coaxing her desire to an even greater height. Then his thumb found that spot that had given her such pleasure when he’d settled between her legs, where his shaft had rested and moved, creating a friction she longed to feel again.

  Just as she began to rotate her hips, seeking that abrasion of him against her, he slid his finger inside her sex. She cried out, surprised but also jubilant at the delicious sensation of him filling her.

  This was nothing like she’d experienced before. This was expert, not clumsy, refined, not rough.

  He sucked hard on her nipple, then grazed the flesh with his teeth. She couldn’t be still. Her body writhed beneath his, her hands moving over him, urging him for more. She rose off the chaise, and her hips circled between the cushion and his touch. His hand worked faster, stroking her flesh, then filling her again. He pumped into her a few times, then withdrew and teased her from the outside, sending her spiraling into desperate desire.

  When he entered her again, it was with two fingers—or so she thought. She began to lose herself. She just knew it was more—spectacularly more—and she rose up to meet his thrusts.

  His mouth met hers in a deeply arousing kiss, wet and hot, and somehow mimicking what he was doing to her sex. He pulled back and whispered, “Come for me, Verity. Let go. Do you understand?”

  She shook her head, her senses in a frenzy as her body tried to comprehend what he meant.

  “You’re going to fall apart—pleasure you never imagined. You’re so close, I can feel it. Just give yourself over to me. Focus on me touching you here.” He pressed that place at the top of her sex that felt so good. “And on my fingers inside you. I know you want to move more. Give yourself up to the movement. Rise up, take me deep inside you.” His words enflamed her as he thrust into her, filling her. She began to understand. That thing rising inside her was reaching a peak. She could feel it too. She was close, whatever that meant.

  And then she knew.

  He squeezed her nipple as he thrust his fingers deep into her sex. Whatever was holding her together simply broke. She was no longer a whole person. She wasn’t even sure she was still Verity. Nor did she want to be. She was a mess of sensation and pleasure, and there was nothing but ecstasy and joy.

  It took long moments for her body to begin to quiet. She opened her eyes and stared up into his face, taut with his own unquenched desire. Rufus had always taken his pleasure, as evidenced by his shouts of satisfaction and the spilling of his seed.

  “I should go,” he said.

  She caressed his face, gently running her thumb over his bruise. “Please don’t. Come to my bed.”

  He inhaled sharply. “Verity, I don’t wish to take advantage.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m asking you to. Please. Take advantage.”

  His face cracked into a smile that made her heart flip over. She began to fully comprehend the love that her cousin Diana had for her husband. Not that she loved this man—not yet, anyway. But she was desperate to finish what they’d started, for so many reasons.

  “You’ve done so much to erase a painful past, I suspect without even realizing it. Tonight you’ve given me a taste of what marriage could truly be, and I would ask you to complete the lesson.”

  “I know nothing of marriage.”

  “Then of sex. It seems you know plenty of that.” She suffered a surprising flash of jealousy as she contemplated how that had come to pass.

  He rolled from the chaise and stood. Disappointment curled in her gut. But only for a moment.

  He offered her his hand. “My lady.”

  She gave him a half smile as well as her hand. “I’m a duchess. It’s ‘Your Grace.’”

  He hauled her up and pulled her against his chest, his arm snaking around her waist. “I meant my lady. You’re mine. Tonight.” He kissed her, his hand twining in her braid and pulling her head back while he devoured her mouth.

  She felt exposed and vulnerable and incredibly aroused. The satisfaction she’d felt moments ago faded behind a swell of desire so strong, her legs quivered.

  He swept her into his arms and carried her into her chamber. Rather than deposit her on the bed, he set her down next to it and immediately pushed her dressing gown over her shoulders.

  She shrugged out of the garment and let it pool to the floor. He made to remove her night rail, but she wanted him in the same state. She put her hands on his waistcoat and unbuttoned it with quick flicks of her fingers. He lifted her night rail to her hips, his hands grazing her bare flesh as she worked, waiting patiently for her to complete her task.

  Struggling to ignore the sensations resulting from his touch, she focused on sliding the waistcoat over his shoulders. He had to let go of her gown to allow her to remove the garment. Instead of lifting her night rail once more, he tugged his shirt from his waistband and whisked it over his head, baring his chest.

  He arched a sandy brow at her. “Is that better?”

  “Much.” She stared at his chest. He had far less hair than Rufus had, and it was lighter in color, just like the hair on his head. And she couldn’t explain it away as being exposed to too much sunlight. Unless he walked around on the ship without a shirt… That image was incredibly enticing, however.

  None of that mattered. She accepted this man wasn’t Rufus. She was thrilled
by that, in fact.

  Then she noticed the scars.

  One near the center of his chest—maybe two inches long. Another on his right shoulder, angrier looking, perhaps four inches. Small red spots at the top of his abdomen along his rib cage. A particularly long one, at least eight inches stretching from his left collarbone and disappearing into his armpit.

  She traced that one with her fingertips. “What happened?”

  “A battle during the war.”

  “You’ve seen many battles, I think.”

  “Yes.”

  She wanted to ask what had driven him to do such a thing, but perhaps he hadn’t many choices available to him. As unyielding as her life had been, she’d had privilege. Clearly, he hadn’t.

  Yet, you would think he was born to this life. He carried himself as a duke ought, and he certainly knew how to talk. She’d pit his intelligence against Rufus’s or any other nobleman she’d met. In fact, he’d held his own quite well with Simon.

  “Have you looked your fill?” he asked.

  She wasn’t sure she ever could. He was a mass of muscle and sinew. She ran her hands over his flesh, wanting to memorize every plane, every dip, every scar. It was so easy to see him climbing the mast of a ship or fighting in battle.

  He stared at her with keen lust blazing in his gaze. She shivered at the power of his desire and the strength of her own rising to meet his.

  He kissed her again, his lips and tongue tasting hers. He was familiar now, which only made it that much sweeter. His hands came up and cupped her breasts, each massaging and squeezing, then lightly tugging on her nipples. Sensation shot straight to her sex.

  She reached for his breeches, finding the buttons of his fall and working them loose as she’d done to his waistcoat, but with perhaps a bit more urgency. Her knuckles brushed his cock as she worked. When the fall came open, she reached inside his smallclothes and found his shaft. He moaned as he pitched forward into her hand.

  Here was another way in which Kit was not her husband. She could tell he was…bigger. Longer, with more girth. She thought of how that would feel and decided she didn’t want to think about it or compare him to what she’d known before. The whole point of tonight was to drive those memories away and replace them with something far better.

  Wrapping her fingers around his shaft, she stroked him from base to tip, then back again. This much she knew how to do.

  Kit lowered his head to her breast and held her flesh to his mouth as he licked and sucked. She squeezed him, perhaps a little too tightly since he gasped against her.

  She loosened her grip. “Sorry.”

  “No, don’t stop,” he rasped.

  He liked that, then. Emboldened, she gripped him firmly as she slid her hand along his flesh. He moved with her strokes, and she was reminded of the way his fingers had thrust into her. Soon, his cock would do the same, and she found she didn’t want to wait any longer.

  She edged backward and felt the mattress against her bare backside. “Kit,” she urged, gently tugging his cock.

  “Yes, my love?” His endearment made her shudder with need.

  “I would like—” She cried out as he pinched her nipple, then sucked on it with great force. “I would like you inside me.”

  “I would like that too.” He straightened, then divested himself of the rest of his clothing. As he peeled his breeches and smallclothes away, his shaft rose long and hard, his balls tight and round beneath. Yes, he was much larger than Rufus.

  “You look very…big.”

  He stroked his hand between her legs. “And you are very wet. I don’t think there will be a problem.”

  He spent a moment teasing her flesh, pressing his fingers to her opening and then driving inside. She clutched his shoulders as her legs threatened to give out. He seemed to understand, for he lifted her onto the bed, then climbed on beside her.

  His hand returned to her sex as he leaned over and licked at her nipple. “Have you been kissed here before?” He slid his fingers over her folds. “I suspect not, but I don’t want to assume.”

  “No. I never even thought of that.” Which was perhaps silly since Rufus had required her to put her mouth on his sex—something she’d detested doing.

  “Nor did your worthless husband, apparently. I, however, am not worthless, and when we are not in such a hurry to find our release, I will show you how pleasurable that can be.”

  The thought of his mouth and his tongue on her sex was simultaneously horrifying and arousing. And, shockingly, she thought she might like taking Kit’s cock into her mouth.

  He laughed softly against her breast as his fingers delved inside her. “I can see that idea excites you. You’re even wetter now.”

  Kit rolled on top of her. “Part your legs.”

  She moved beneath him, doing as he commanded, and waited breathlessly for his invasion.

  “Guide me, Verity,” he said huskily. “Take my cock and put it inside you. Go as slow or as fast as you like.”

  His words aroused her even more, spinning her desire to an even greater height. She took his flesh in her hand and opened her thighs to receive him. His tip nudged her opening, and the start of ecstasy already flooded her body.

  She pulled him farther, lifting off the bed to meet him. But it was still too slow. “I need you to—” She wasn’t sure. “Move.”

  “Like this?” He speared into her in one deft thrust, filling her so completely that she saw lights behind her eyelids after she squeezed them shut.

  She clasped his backside, feeling the clench of his muscles and the velvet smoothness of his skin. “Yes. Don’t stop. Please.”

  Bracing one hand near her head, he put the other on her hip, clutching her as he withdrew, then pushed forward again. “Lift your legs.” He guided her to show her what he meant.

  He slid even deeper, touching something deep inside that made her want to weep with the pleasure of it. She held him tight as he drove into her, hard and sure, over and over. Pressing her heels into his backside, she arched up to meet his thrusts, crying out as the friction sent her deeper and deeper into dark, passionate need.

  His fingers dug into her, then he lifted his hand to smooth a curl back from her face just before his lips claimed hers. He swallowed her cries as their movements grew more frenzied. The pleasure that had built before in her study was nothing compared to this. She felt tossed atop a cresting wave, or at least imagined how that would feel.

  His teeth snagged her lip as he broke the kiss. “Come for me now, Verity. Come.”

  She knew what that meant now and surrendered to the pleasure. Her muscles clenched around him, and he shouted as he thrust hard and deep. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her. She was mindless with joy and never wanted it to end.

  Gradually, he slowed, kissing her softly as her world came back into a dull focus. She caressed his back, her legs relaxing around him. After a few moments, he withdrew from her and moved to her side.

  “Now, I should go,” he murmured before dropping a kiss on her shoulder.

  She turned her head to look at him. “I want you to stay.”

  He stared at her, their eyes communicating in ways their mouths perhaps could not. Not yet, anyway. His lips curved up into that heart-stopping smile she’d come to adore. “If you insist.”

  “I do.” She pulled back the coverlet and slipped into the bed, holding the bedclothes open for him to join her.

  He did, sliding his body next to hers and gathering her against him. He kissed her hairline, her temple, her brow. “Sleep, my love.”

  She did—and never more soundly.

  Chapter 14

  Light was just creeping beneath the curtains on the windows as Kit awakened. It took him a moment to recall where he was—and why. He lay on his side with Verity nestled against him, her back pressed against his chest. She was warm and soft, and he smiled at the fortune he’d been dealt.

  But it was so tenuous. His happiness faded a bit, which made him determined t
o hold on to what he’d found. Would she let him? It seemed they both wanted the same thing—to keep the family they’d become. And yet so many things stood in their way. They ought to go to London so that he could be officially declared the duke.

  He tried to imagine what that would be like—balls and parties and clubs. Presumably, he was already a member. Hopefully, someone would know which one… He knew from the account books that Rufus hadn’t kept a house in London, but then he’d been duke for only a short time before he’d disappeared. The prior duke—Kit’s father—had leased one, according to the ledgers. That seemed an odd situation for a duke, but what did Kit know?

  He inhaled the sweet violet fragrance of Verity’s hair. The braid was still intact, but several locks had come loose. He longed to unravel the mane and run his fingers through the silken strands.

  What was stopping him? She’d have to unbraid it when she awakened anyway. Or so he thought since he’d never seen her in a braid except when she was prepared for bed.

  He untied the ribbon at the end and set it behind him. Then he carefully worked his fingers through the braid, unwinding the locks with care and relish. She stirred in his embrace, sighing softly as she pressed back against him.

  The contact of her backside with his cock brought it fully erect. He finished unbraiding her hair and buried his face in the dark curls.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice low and heavy with sleep.

  “Reveling in you.” He found her neck and kissed her repeatedly, moving his lips along her flesh and feeling her shiver.

  “That’s a very flattering thing to say.”

  He moved his hand to her breast and cupped the warm globe before using his fingers and thumb to tease her nipple. “And what will my flattery earn me?”

  She gasped softly as she wriggled her backside against him. “Nothing. I don’t trade myself for pretty words. But since I know you’re a man of more than just pretty words—” She broke off in another gasp as he trailed his hand down over her abdomen and stroked between the folds of her sex.