Deeper in Sin by Sharon Page Page B

Caradon’s bed, and she rubbed her eyes. If this was all a dream, she’d best face reality as quickly as she could.
    She blinked her eyes twice.
    No, the magnificent furnishings, the heavy velvet draperies, and the silk curtains tied to the bed columns were still there. She was still sitting in the warm, comfortable bed.
    And the duke—Cary—was still sleeping beside her.
    Hope actually left her breathless. It embraced her heart so tightly, it was squeezing her. But it was a wonderful feeling.
    She was so close! She could feel it. She could convince Cary to keep her.
    She had her book, A Courtesan Confesses, and now she would understand some of the things she hadn’t before. She would learn how to be the best seductress in England, and she would snare her duke.
    Sophie felt a bit guilty, since she was in a delightful, cozy bed while her son, Alexander, and Belle and Belle’s children lived in drafty, damp, meager cottage.
    But all that would soon to come to an end. She could treat Belle and the children to warm, soft sheets. The children could have a bed each. They could build fires in the grates without having to scrounge for scraps to burn.
    Men like the horrible Earl of Devars couldn’t touch her. Or Belle. Not ever .
    The children would have futures. They would never fear workhouses. Belle’s daughter would never fear the horrors of a man like Devars preying on her.
    Sitting up, Sophie watched the duke. The sheets had fallen down, baring his naked chest with its curls of golden hair, planes of hard muscle.
    Just being in the same bed was enough to set her pulse pounding—even though he was on one side of the bed, she on the other, and there was enough room between them to fit three other people. He was so beautiful. Golden hair. Long lashes. Lush lips like on Michelangelo’s David.
    Sophie hugged her knees.
    Last night, he had given her so much pleasure, he had made her see stars.
    Her heart wobbled.
    She wanted him. Wanted, wanted, wanted him.
    It was like how she had felt for Samuel. She’d gone bald-headed after Samuel.
    Surely, pleasure and happiness and love could help Cary forget his painful memories. He was a wonderful man. He deserved to be healed.
    Sophie wriggled across the bed to the duke. It took longer than she’d expected—it felt like crossing a vast plain.
    She pushed down the counterpane and leaned over him. His cock was half erect, even though he was sleeping.
    Taking a deep breath, she bent over and took the tip of it into her mouth.
    The head was like soft velvet against her lips. The skin was slightly sweet with perspiration, a little salty, and there was a tang of a bitter taste.
    He groaned, murmured something. She held just the head in her mouth. Delicately. Her lips formed a tight, but gentle O around him. Her tongue rested against the head. She coasted her tongue wetly around the smooth head and the firmer crown. Her questing tongue found a taut piece of flesh, rather like a bowstring, and she strummed it lightly.
    Against her tongue, his cock seemed to swell. It grew bigger, longer, and much more rigid.
    Something dribbled, touching her tongue. From a little opening in the very tip of his cock came a tangy, salty fluid. Curious. She had no idea men grew wet too. She did when she was aroused, so this was a good sign. She sucked a bit, swallowing, hoping to arouse him more.
    The head and shaft grew, filling her mouth at a shocking rate. Sophie had to draw back. But once she caught her breath, she slid more of him into her mouth. He was rigid now, hard as a tree trunk, and remarkably thick. Try as she would, she couldn’t take more than a third of him into her mouth.
    She must please him. Desperately, she tried to remember exactly what he’d done to her. Delicious things with his tongue. Some rough things. Gentle teasing things.
    At the ball, she had seen the woman’s mouth at the man’s groin, and she was sure his entire erection