Page 41 of Disciplined by the Duke
Her muscles tensed as the cool air met her skin, but he soothed her with his hands, his lips on her neck, until her drawers were pooled around her ankles. Standing back up, he stared at her heart-shaped ass, pink from his ministrations. His cock throbbed with want. Flashes of everything he could do to her swept through his mind. Taking her from behind like a rutting beast. Biting that creamy flesh, scoring her with his mark. Pushing her to her knees and fucking that sweet mouth.
He picked the ruler back up. “This will be more intense, but I want you to welcome it. Welcome the heat, the flash of pain, and the burn of pleasure. Clear your mind of everything but that next stroke. At this moment, there is nothing outside this room that matters. It’s only you, taking what you deserve from me. What you need.” He trailed the backs of his fingers along her crease. “Do you understand?”
She nodded against the desk, a soft moan escaping her lips. She waited patiently for him to continue, seemingly content to exist in the moment, a slight smile curving her lips. She looked satisfied. Happy.
His stomach twisted. There would be no going back to the Black Rose after Liz. No paid whore ever accepted a punishment so sweetly that it made him ache to tie her to his bed for a year and not let her go. That it was a chambermaid who was the perfect foil to his needs . . . He ground his teeth. This night was but a brief glimpse of heaven, a heaven he could never enter. The distance between a duke and a servant was too great to even entertain the notion of a relationship. And his damn code wouldn’t allow him to use a maid for a casual intrigue.
The unfairness of it made his muscles clench, made the next stroke harder than he intended. She squeaked in dismay, only relaxing when he brought his palm up to rub the strip of red that flashed across her skin.
“Keep counting, Liz.” He brought the ruler down again, more temperate this time, but still strong enough to raise a fleeting red mark. “Breathe, and count, and relax into it.”
She sucked in a deep breath, released it. “Twenty-two.”
“Good girl.”
Her soft whimpers and moans grew louder. The next time he stopped to caress her, he let his fingers whisper over her opening, circling the slick entrance before retreating back to her plump bottom. Damn, she was wet. Warmth spread through his body. She was a natural.
She arched her back, chasing after his touch. “Please.”
“Please, what? What do you need, Liz?”
“I don’t know.” Her knuckles whitened around the desk. “Make me stop feeling like this.”
“Feeling like what?” He leaned over her, and ran his fingers through her silky tresses.
“I don’t know!”
He kneaded the base of her skull. “Shh.” Her face was tight with tension. Had she never drawn pleasure from a man, from her own fingers? The evidence of her innocence made his heart pang. Dallying with a green girl came with an extra responsibility. An extra honor. “I realize you don’t know. But you will. I’ll take care of you.” Standing upright, he drew her up with him, keeping a steadying arm around her waist. Sweeping a hand beneath her knees, he lifted her in his arms. The drawers at her feet effectively hobbled her, and damn if the thought of her bound ankles didn’t spear heat straight to his groin.
He settled them on the settee. The flickering candlelight made her dark eyes glitter. Placing a broad palm low on her abdomen, he rubbed soothing circles, inching lower with each pass. She had given so much of herself to him that night that he wanted, needed, to bring her pleasure. Show her what her body was capable of, how to quench the fire that burned in her veins. But most virgins didn’t allow the liberty of a slow finger-fuck without some persuasion beforehand, so he moved cautiously, rebuilding her ache to a fevered pitch.
“Have you ever brought yourself to completion before?” he asked. He stroked up and down her inner thigh. Each pass dragged her skirts higher, brought his fingers closer to her heat.
One of her fists gripped his waistcoat, but her voice had regained its normally placid tones. “No.”
He smiled down at her, satisfaction licking through him that he would be the first to make her fall apart, knowing that he would be responsible for making that serene façade crack. He suspected that very few people were allowed to see her without her mask.
His finger swept through her drenched folds, and she sucked in a sharp gasp. He circled lightly over the little bundle of nerves.
Her eyes went liquid. “Montague, that feels . . .”
“Yes?” he asked. His cock was hard enough to pound a horseshoe into shape, and every twitch of her bottom drove him a little further past reason.
“So good.” She sighed and sank limply into his hold, her legs falling open as much as her drawers would allow.
“You’re going to feel a whole lot better,” he said, his voice gruff. “Close your eyes. I want you to concentrate on feeling the pleasure I give to you and nothing else.” He waited impatiently for her to comply. When she did, he was able to let his own mask slip. He didn’t have to hide what this woman in his arms did to him.
He eyed her reactions hungrily, feeling every bit of pleasure that flickered across her face in his own body. He left his thumb on her clit while one long finger probed at her slick entrance. When the tip of his finger entered her, her warm sheath clutched eagerly at him, and he couldn’t keep back the curse that flew from his lips.
She either didn’t hear him or didn’t care, too wrapped up in her own body’s reaction. Her head dropped back over his arm, exposing her porcelain neck. He probed a bit deeper, added a second finger, careful to keep his thrusts shallow so as not to hurt her. This moment was all about pleasure.
Her walls sucked wetly at him, and he dragged his fingers out and up to slicken her firm nub. Pressing her hips up, she sighed happily when his fingers reentered her channel. His thumb swiped around her clitoris faster, adding pressure when she arched and mewled.
Fuck, she was beautiful. He couldn’t believe he wasn’t taking this needy bundle of woman presented so prettily before him. She was so far gone she wouldn’t protest if he fucked her like he needed. Like she needed. His cock pulsed against her bottom, eagerly agreeing with the sentiment.
But there would be consequences to those actions, consequences that would weigh more heavily on Liz than on him. So he told his cock to stand down, and gripped the writhing woman more tightly so she wouldn’t wriggle herself right off his lap.
Her breathing became short, gasping. Her eyes snapped open and she fixed her gaze to his. “Montague? I don’t . . . I can’t . . .”
