Deepest Desires of a Wicked Duke Read online

  Her fingers curled into his biceps, gripping tight as he drew his cock lower, parting her lips again. Then he was wedged against her, feeling impossibly thick and full. His hands came back, bracing the bed on either side of her head. His hips moved, slow and coaxing, pressing his cock against her. She was so wet he slid in a little.

  Oh! All that yearning need and now it hurt. It wasn’t fair. Gently, he kissed her. “There might be some pain. It won’t last long. Then I’ll make it good for you. That I can do.”

  She knew he could. She was certain of it.

  The blunt pressure of his penis trying to go in was rather arousing. She moved her hips, somehow realizing she should. With her rocking and Julian slowly moving his groin, gently pressing into her, his cock slid in farther.

  There was pain—a sharp, irritating shock of it. Why should she feel pain? Why should women?

  Her fingernails gouged in. She couldn’t help it. “Julian.” It came out like a squeak.

  “Sin. Call me Sin. I hate that name—Julian. It belonged to a young man I hate.”

  She wanted to know why, but his hips moved forward.

  His thick cock slid in. Her toes curled. Her eyes almost rolled back in her head. So intense! He was in her. They were joined in the most intimate way. If she’d had a barrier, it was gone now.

  Portia needed to be close to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I want your body against mine. Everywhere.”

  He did as she wanted, lying on top of her. But still he held his weight. His chest squished her breasts lightly, his hard belly pressed to her softer one. His body had settled between her legs, stretching her thighs. And his cock was buried deep.

  Then he started to thrust.

  Oh, she’d had no idea. She’d seen people making love, she’d heard their cries. Now she knew why they screamed.

  This was—

  Delightful. Heavenly. Perfect. Sweetness and sin together.

  She hooked her leg over his, pinning him to her. She moved her hips as much as she could, lifting to meet his thrusts. Slow and gentle thrusts. But getting stronger, harder, more demanding. Each smack of his hips teased her clit, sending shudders of exquisite sensation through her. So strong, she moaned and had to bury her face in his chest to muffle the desperate sounds.

  As if he was losing control too, he nuzzled her neck hungrily. Kissed her lips in hot, fast, passionate kisses. His tongue teased hers, mimicking the magic thrusts inside her.

  His hands slid down and he cupped her bottom and lifted her tight. His groin rubbed her clit. He was thrusting so hard into her.

  “Yes,” she cried. She reached down and gripped his arse. Felt the flex of the rock-solid muscles with the rocking of his hips. Sweat trickled off him, hit her lips, and she swept it off with her tongue. Salty. His.

  “Bang me senseless,” she gasped. “Bang into me so hard you shake the bed.”

  She was totally out of control. A wanton creature, moving with him. Wet with perspiration and slick with their juices. Hot and flushed.

  He moved his hands again to brace himself. And he pounded so hard the bed did shake. He moved her whole body on the bed. It was too much—

  No, it was perfect. Perfect—

  The orgasm swept over her like a storm wave striking the island. She was awash in it. Her arms flailed. She slapped his buttocks. Buried her mouth into his shoulder. Oh God, she bit him.

  She held him tight.

  Then he groaned. His mouth tightened and his eyes shut. Pure agony sketched across his face. “Portia.”

  His hips bumped hers; then he shoved them forward, burying himself as deep as possible. She felt hot inside. A sudden flood of heat as he shuddered above her. He stopped moving and stayed on top of her. He pressed his face into the crook of her neck, gasping for breath.

  A jerk of his hips withdrew his cock. A flow of hot fluid came out too.

  And she knew at once what it was. His seed.

  Huskily, he said, his mouth almost touching her lips, “You’re mine, Portia. This marks you as mine. No other man is going to touch you. My come makes you mine now. Forever.”

  20

  Portia was dying with curiosity, but she couldn’t make herself say the words. She was simply too shy to say: What do you mean your come makes me yours?

  She made two attempts to speak the words. Each time, she looked into his eyes and all that came out of her mouth was a sound like, “Gah-ha.”

  She was no longer an utter innocent, but she was still too shy.

  Sin rolled on his back. Portia hadn’t liked that nickname for him, because she didn’t like thinking of him as sinful. But sinful had proven to be a lot of fun. And it was the name he preferred. She’d never known that “Julian” made him think of bad memories. She wished he’d told her back then.

  Grasping her around the waist, he lifted her easily and planted her naked body right on top of his. Her tummy pressed against his cock—which was wet, sticky, and growing hard again. “Goodness, you’re aroused again.”

  “Having you naked on top of me does that to me, Portia, even though I just had the most intense climax of my life.”

  “I don’t believe that. Clarissa hinted at the kind of things you do at orgies. You told me you like dark pleasures.” She flushed. “How could just being with me be more arousing than that?”

  His finger traced her lip. How she loved that. It tingled in her cunny even more than her lip. Then he arched his neck to lift up and kiss her mouth.

  He lay back, grinning. “It’s true, angel. You are special. Unique. Watching you come makes me come with the force of an explosion.”

  Knowing that gave her a glow of confidence she’d never had. So she ventured, “What did you mean that you hate the name Julian?”

  His expression clouded. “It reminded me of things I’d rather forget. Losing you, for one.”

  “But why should you reject your name over that?”

  “Ah, it doesn’t matter, Portia.” He nuzzled her neck. Nibbled her earlobe. Made her giggle. And gasp.

  “Make love to me on top, Miss Love.”

  “On top of you!”

  Sin settled his hands on her hips.

  How she loved his grin—it spoke of wickedness, of wonderfully naughty fun, but of a special delight they’d shared. His eyes twinkled at her. “Sit up on me, love.”

  Sit up on him? He helped her up and she scrambled up, so her bottom rested on his groin. Thick and rigid, his erect cock wedged against her cheeks.

  “What do I do?”

  “You take my cock inside your hot, sweet pussy, love. Then you ride me. You could also take me into your ass on top of me, but we’ll save that for next time.”

  “Next time,” she echoed. The thought, the words, speared her.

  Portia rose up, knees sinking in the bed. She had to press her hand on his chest to support herself. Wrapped her fingers around his hot, sticky cock, she made it stand upright. Slowly, she lowered on him—

  “Oh, it rather hurts!”

  His hands still rested on her hips, and he stopped her from moving down farther, from taking any more inside. Her fingers were curled around him, feeling how thick and hard he was.

  “You’ll be sensitive from making love, Portia. Sore. We don’t have to do this. We can wait.”

  “But I want to do this. Now I want it so much, I don’t want to stop. It’s just that you are so huge.”

  “I love hearing that. You can tell me that anytime.”

  Suddenly he arched up and kissed her right nipple, leaving it erect and shiny with his warm saliva. His motion pushed his erection a little farther inside her. The pain had eased, that made it twinge a little again. But despite the ache, she wanted to feel full. Desire was more intense than nerves about a little pain.

  Smiling into her eyes, he stroked her clit with his thumb.

  Oooh! She had to clutch his shoulders. She loved his hand there. She tensed, because sometimes it was too much, but mostly it felt so good. But it turned h
er to liquid inside. Made juices flow. She was so wet she could take him in deep.

  Somehow she knew to go up and down on him. With a moan, she lifted her hips, then lowered on him. Until he went deep inside and her bottom smacked his bollocks.

  He’d thrust in her, she was bouncing on him. Up and down, hands braced against his chest.

  Sin guided her. Coaxed her to lean back, which intensified the push of his cock head against a tremendously sensitive place inside her pussy. He brought her forward until her breasts dangled over his mouth. He caught her nipples in his mouth, sucked them.

  She loved looking down, seeing her breasts, full and plump, hanging over him.

  “Ride me, Portia. Touch yourself. Play with your clit.”

  She could, couldn’t she? Moving up and down, she shifted her hips until she found the way that teased her the most. And she got to watch Sin while she moaned with each shock of pleasure.

  “Fuck me, Portia.”

  Scandalous words, but exciting.

  His fingers teased her, he licked her nipples, and his cock head rubbed her inner walls, rubbed a stunning place. There . . . oh! She tipped her head back.

  It was so good. So good.

  She rode him faster. Rising and falling, teasing herself. Her hair, tumbling free of her pins, danced wildly around them both. She was hot, sweaty. Panting.

  His fingers caressed her. Then—oh!—he teased her bottom with a finger.

  All the spiralling tension burst. Her hands fisted and pressed to his shoulders. She came.

  She jerked on him. Writhed on him. Bit back a scream as pleasure claimed her. Then, the urge to go there again came over her. Greedily, she wanted another climax.

  Lying over his body, she tried to work and wriggle herself to pleasure again. But she couldn’t quite reach it—

  Until he played with her with his fingers again. Sin slid his index finger in her bottom—like a second man’s cock.

  She came again, crying out beside his ear.

  He roared her name. “Portia.” He bucked underneath her, his hips going wild. Coming into her, he lifted her right off the bed.

  * * *

  Sin’s brains had turned into mush. Intelligent thought left the instant he came. Portia was the only woman who’d ever made him feel like this. Even when he’d been nineteen, when he indulged in bondage, brothels, and orgies, his orgasms had never left him feeling like this. He’d used to be left exhausted. He’d never been left exhausted with a smile on his lips and a glow in his heart.

  The look on her face had undone him. Her absolute shock when she came, then the utter delight. She wasn’t faking it, as so many courtesans did, because they were too busy calculating to enjoy sex.

  The way she’d sucked his cock, exploring pleasure with him—it had made him finally see real intimacy in sex.

  He also felt a certain selfish pride. No other man had ever made Portia come. It gave him the desire to crow from the rooftops. But he would never do that to Portia, never boast about her.

  She was special. Unique.

  He’d never known such joy.

  In the middle of murders, being hunted by a madman, he’d found joy for the first time in his life.

  No—the second time.

  The only other time he’d been happy in his life was when she’d said yes. When she’d agreed to marry him.

  He’d let her go then, because he thought she deserved to find happiness with someone else.

  Now, he owed her respectability. He owed her rescue. Not just from the killer, but from the sharp-clawed matrons and hypocritical gentlemen of Society.

  But first—

  Sin rolled her onto her stomach on their damp, messy bed. Rounded and tempting, her two sweet ass cheeks wobbled. She was so slender but curvaceous in delightful places—like her tits and sweet ass. He planted a kiss on both cheeks. Parted them and kissed her small, puckered anus. Lifting her bottom, he licked the bridge between pussy and ass, slid his tongue into her pussy.

  His cock, which should be exhausted, was rising again.

  He had to admit he was proud of it.

  “Do you want more, Portia?” he asked. “Another orgasm?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  He heard the shy note in her tone. Sliding his hand between her legs from behind, he opened her nether lips and teased her clit.

  She moaned. Lifted her hips to him.

  He wedged his cock, now almost rock-hard, against her pussy. So slick, like heated cream. Her pussy would grip him tight, surround him with so much tight heat, he knew he wouldn’t last long. He just wanted to make her come first. He needed to hear her scream with ecstasy.

  Her hair was half out of its pins and he took the time to free her tumble of red hair completely. It glimmered, gold strands shining amongst the rich, exotic red. Burying his face in the silky thickness, he licked her neck. His cock was pressing against her silky pussy lips, with just the head drenched in her juices and held tight.

  He suckled her delicate neck, sucked and kissed until she squirmed underneath him. Moaning for him.

  Yes, this was what he wanted.

  This intimacy.

  God, yes. Sin groaned out loud as he slid into her sweet cunt. Pleasing her was his only desire. With his finger, he toyed with her clit and he slid his other hand over the rounded curves of her ass. Then up along her smooth sensual back. She was supported on her arms, and he moved his hand beneath her to her delectable tits. He bridged her nipples with thumb and forefinger.

  Portia moaned at the teasing pressure.

  She was so wet, one long, slow thrust brought his cock inside her. To the hilt.

  Yes. Lord, yes.

  He withdrew, until only the tip was wet, then thrust in again. Filling her. Diving into pure, sweet heaven. Over and over.

  He kissed her hungrily, cupping her left breast, playing with her clit. She rocked with him, moaning, “Yes. Yes.” Her ass lifted to him, a soft pillow for his groin to impact.

  He moved his hand from her breast, ran down her, fingered her anus.

  “Oh, Sin!” she cried. Her head arched. Her body rocked madly.

  He felt it. The rush of heat and wetness inside her. The pulse of her muscles. But her moans and cries and writhing body let him know she was coming hard.

  She sobbed his name. And he lost control.

  His climax seared him, heart and soul.

  Braced on his arms, he shuddered as the pleasure ebbed away, as his come shot out of him, drained him. He withdrew, collapsed beside her. The bed jiggled as his weight hit. He was too exhausted, sated, to do more than just fall beside her. Then, he managed to wrap his arm around her. On her side, her cheeks pressed to the bed, she faced him.

  Her gray eyes sparkled, brilliant as the sun on dew drops.

  Sin knew what he owed her now. But under what terms? How could he do what was honorable, what was expected, and still make her happy?

  He knew the words he had to speak.

  But he couldn’t make them come out. With them had to come the truth. The whole truth.

  Her eyes shone at him. She looked at him with love. But with more than that—

  Admiration. She looked at him as if he were a man worthy of her love.

  Within minutes, that glowing light would fade, and he would lose her—the only person whose love he’d ever had.

  He had cast aside her love once, had pretended he could fill his life with athletic sex and not feel the loss.

  He’d been wrong.

  Gently, he stroked Portia’s shoulder. Skin like silk, sweetly damp from sex. Their scents filled the room—sweat and come.

  The sweetest smile curved her lips. Breaking his heart. Because he knew, once they were off this island, she might become his duchess, but he would never see her again.

  “I wish we could stay in here, with the door locked, and pretend that everything is well,” she whispered.

  “We can’t, Portia. But I promise I am going to get you off this island
alive.”

  “Such a promise is impossible. But working together, trusting each other, we can end this.”

  He had to explain why he had to let her go—

  “Sinclair! I know you are in there—and alive! Open this door! At once!”

  He bolted upright at the woman’s desperate tone, despite the hazy feeling in his head from three—still astounding to think of it—three intense orgasms. He went for his robe, threw it on. Someone knew he was alive—a problem. This intense knocking had to portend another disaster.

  But he knew he was racing to the door to avoid telling Portia the truth.

  * * *

  Portia sat up, holding the sheets to her. She felt guilty, being caught in bed with Sin. Though in her heart, she no longer knew why. Why feel guilty about this? When surrounded by murder, how could sharing pleasure be bad?

  Sin, wrapped in his robe of heavy, luxurious blue silk, opened the door. Only inches, so she could not see on the other side. She could only see his back, as he spoke to the person who’d knocked.

  It was the Incognita. She’d recognized the woman’s voice.

  “How did you know I was alive, Clarissa?” Sin asked.

  Portia heard the woman’s laugh—but it sounded more strained than silky. “I assumed you were responsible for all of Miss Love’s moaning and screaming behind the door.”

  Heavens, she’d never dreamed she was so . . . loud.

  The Incognita ducked under Sin’s arm and peeked in the room. Portia was caught in the bed, and felt her cheeks heat.

  Then Clarissa smiled. “So you played a trick on us, Sinclair.” The woman tapped her lips. “Perhaps you are the murderer—which is why I came here, armed with a kitchen knife. Perhaps you and Miss Love are in league. But I believe you’re not. I believe you faked your death as a way to investigate, not as a way to lure the rest of us to our doom. So I have come because more people have gone missing. The last three women, other than me and your Miss Love.”

  “Nellie, the cook, and the Old Madam,” Portia cried.

  Sin glanced at her, then turned his attention back to the Incognita. “They’ve left the house, I take it.”