Page 63 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

Pierce gave a quiet, satisfied laugh behind her. "I shall take that as praise," he said, his fingers continuing their steady rhythm.

Margaret opened one eye. "Do not become insufferable."

"I am afraid it is too late," he replied, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

She smiled despite herself, then sighed as his hands moved lower and lower until his hand was inside her dress and cupping her breast.

She gasped.

"You tell me to stop," he said quietly, "and I will."

Margaret's eyes widened, but she did not move away. "I do not want you to stop."

The words settled between them. He continued gently kneading her mounds. His finger grazed over her taut rosebud.

The sensation was soothing, almost hypnotic. Everywhere his fingers passed seemed to loosen beneath his touch, leaving behind a pleasant warmth that travelled through her to a pulse beginning to throb between her thighs.

"You are very beautiful," he groaned.

She looked at him over her shoulder, her dark eyes bright with lust. "Am I?"

"You know that you," he acknowledged, and then pressed his mouth over hers.

The kiss was deep and hungry. His hands continued to press into her bosom, massaging and pinching her rosebuds.

"Oh, Oh Pierce," she moaned between kisses.

"You will drive me insane saying my name like that," his voice thick with desire.

His hands moved down her belly. His touch remained careful and respectful, yet the intimacy of it made her heart beat faster. She had spent so much time insisting that she felt nothing for this infuriating man that she was beginning to suspect her arguments had become less convincing even to herself.

"You are very good at this," she admitted, relaxing her back against his chest.

Pierce's mouth curved with unbearable satisfaction. "I know."

She shook her head, looking forward again. "There is no humility in you whatsoever."

"Humility has never loosened a woman's bliss," he replied, his hand moving low until they were between her thighs.

"Oh!" Margaret froze. She did not know what to do.

"I'll stop if you want me to. I only want to touch you with my hand, nothing more. If you want me to stop, say so, but if you do not want me to, then open yourself to me," he said with all the confidence of a man that knew exactly what he was doing.

I should walk out of here this instant, but I cannot.

She opened her thighs wider, propping one leg on the chaise lounge.

Pierce released a hungry groan in response.

His hands slid down and came to rest on her sensitive button, where he massaged around with slow, careful circular motions.

"That's… that feels…" Margaret could scarcely speak.

"It feels as it should. Do not fight it. Let it bring you to release, my Duchess," he said.

Margaret felt the last remnants of stiffness gradually disappear. The movement was methodical and gentle, and she found herself sinking deeper into the chaise as the warmth of the room and the quiet rhythm of his hands lulled her into complete desire.

"There," Pierce murmured, watching the tension leave her body. "You are beginning to relax; trust my hands."