Her reply was a trembling whisper. “Yes.”
With a gravelly moan, he took her mouth in a swift and passionate kiss. His tongue plunged and stroked along hers. Her fingers fisted in his hair as she answered every thrust then sucked his tongue into her mouth. His grunt of pleasure was empowering, and she released his tongue only to close her teeth on his full bottom lip, testing her hold on him.
He chuckled softly and countered with a sharp nip of his own, followed by the soothing attention of his tongue. He continued to tease and rouse and challenge with his kiss, engaging her fully until she felt the first bit of stretching pressure as his finger began to push past her virginal opening.
She broke from the kiss with a hoarse gasp at the unexpected discomfort. He immediately paused and pressed light kisses to the side of her throat. “Shall I stop?”
“No,” she answered quickly, clutching his forearm to hold his hand in place between her thighs. “Keep going. Please. I need to feel you inside me.”
He muttered something incoherent as he pressed deeper into her.
By the time his finger was fully sheathed, she felt no more discomfort. Instead, she experienced a satisfying fullness and the distinct awareness of how right it felt to allow him such intimacy with her body. And when he slowly withdrew before gently pressing forward again, she sighed. The wet glide of his touch along her inner channel awakened new sensations and a deeper craving.
Her fingers tightened, curling into the roped muscle of his forearm as her spine arched beneath him. Tension tightened her limbs and shortened her breath.
The way he stroked and stretched and curled his finger inside her was building that pleasure once again. But it was somehow more intense and yet not enough all at once.
And then suddenly it was more. Her spine bent into a bow as she pressed her head into the mattress.
Two of his fingers were now sliding in and out of her. Stretching and softening, tantalizing her inner flesh, stimulating the sensitive nerves. And then he pressed the heel of his hand to her clitoris, grinding it in circles as he thrust his fingers.
Wanton and wild, she rocked her hips into his hand, feeding the rhythm he’d started. On one deep roll of her pelvis, she felt the hardened ridge of his erection pressing hot against her thigh. On instinct she reached for him, covering his length with her palm in a clumsy stroke.
His body jerked and his breath left his lungs in a heavy puff against her bare shoulder.
She stroked him again. This time, her thumb inadvertently brushed across the exposed tip above his waistband. She was stunned by the scorching heat and satiny smoothness of his skin. Intrigued, she ran the flat of her thumb over his tip once again, discovering the small slit and the bead of silken moisture that rested there.
His head dropped heavily beside hers; his breath was ragged and sharp. Though his fingers continued to delve and stroke her inner flesh, the rest of him had become powerfully still, as though he were afraid to move and dissuade her from her current exploration.
There was no chance of that, however. Katherine was fascinated.
But his breeches wouldn’t allow her to discover much more of him, and she suddenly wanted very badly to feel everything. Finding the fastenings, she fumbled in her attempt to release them. With a sound of frustration, she muttered, “Remove your breeches.”
He laughed softly, roughly. Pushing up to his elbow, he shook his loosened hair back from his face and grinned down at her. “Is that an order, duchess?”
Not the least bit bothered by the nickname, she smiled up at him. “An urgent one.”
“Then I dare not delay.”
He leapt gracefully from the bed to stand beside it. Katherine rolled to her side, cushioning her head on her bent arm as she watched his hands fly over the fastening of his breeches. A moment later he was shoving them down past his taut and narrow hips. Bending forward, he quickly removed his boots and stockings then tugged the breeches free.
When he straightened again, she held her breath, savoring the moment.
Magnificent.
It was the only word that came to mind at the full sight of him. Every inch of him was the embodiment of masculine strength and beauty. Even the arrogant tilt of his mouth and the blaze of sexual fire in his eyes. And especially the long, hard curve of his erection standing proud against his belly.
Katherine realized with sudden shock that that thick and throbbing part of him was supposed to somehow fit inside her. Though the mechanics of it seemed utterly incomprehensible, it didn’t stop her body from reacting to the thought of experiencing that sexual intimacy with him.
“Intimidated now?”
Her attention flew back to his face. Though his lips were twisted into a smirk of arrogance, she thought she saw vulnerability flickering in the heat of his eyes.
But that couldn’t be right.
This was Mason Hale. Undefeated in the ring. A fearsome scoundrel of London’s East End. There was likely nothing in the world strong enough to bring him down.
You could destroy me so easily.
When she didn’t reply, he chuckled throatily and stepped forward. She rolled onto her back as he stretched his great, heavy body atop her. The heat and hair-roughened texture of his skin were stimulating, as were the kiss he pressed to her mouth and the way he slipped one arm beneath her shoulders and the other beneath her hips to hold her against him in a solid, encompassing embrace.
“It’ll work. Trust me.”
She did trust him. Somewhere between their first meeting and this moment, she’d come to trust him implicitly. She looped her arms around his neck and lifted her head to flick her tongue over his lips. “Show me.”
“Demanding wench, aren’t you?”
She slid one of her legs out from underneath him and hooked it over his hip. Tilting her
