Page 59 of Disciplined by the Duke
Her worries evaporated next. In that moment, her problems didn’t matter. Only the heat, and the pain, and the pleasure did. So relaxed, she couldn’t hold on to her fear and rage even if she’d wanted to. They, too, slipped off of her like a snake’s shed skin.
Sliding her eyes shut, she closed out the world. Her breathing slowed, and she sighed. She was blanketed in warmth, protected. She could no longer feel her limbs. They were weightless. The only thing anchoring her to the earth was Montague’s hand, thump, thump, thumping on her bottom.
The spanking increased in tempo, rousing her from her lethargy. Montague concentrated the blows on the spot where her bottom met her thigh, each strike sending a spark straight to her clit. Her core pulsed. There was no longer any pain. Only heat, and a desperate longing. She needed more.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please.”
The room was filled with the sounds of his hand meeting her flesh. Her body was all nerve endings. The rub of the linen of his trousers against her stomach. The abrasion of the wool against her palms as she clutched at the rug.
“You won’t run from me again, will you, Liz?”
“No, Montague. Please!” Her body coiled tighter, tighter. She couldn’t take it. She clawed at the carpet, bucked against his grip. She knew an exquisite moment, poised on a knife’s edge, pain flooding her system while a wave of pleasure battered against it.
It crashed, and Liz exploded in a million shards. She howled. Sobbing at the release, she clung to the duke when he turned her over and pulled her tight to his chest.
“Shh, my little bird,” he murmured. “Shh.” Tilting her head back, Montague gently kissed her eyes, her brow. He licked her tears away, and rubbed circles on her back until she quieted. “Do you understand now?” Montague trailed a finger across her cheek.
“Yes . . . and no.” She sighed. As the last of her orgasm faded away, so did her focus, her peace of mind. Trying to hold on to the feeling, she squirmed on his lap, rubbing her abused bottom against his trousers.
“Honesty at last.” He leaned down and captured her mouth. The kiss started sweet, grew intense. His cock pressed firmly against her naked bottom, and she pulled back, breathless. “Close your eyes,” he said, his voice a low growl. She obeyed without hesitation, and he lifted her in his muscled arms.
Raw silk met her back, caressed her hot bottom. She was scooted a bit, prodded into position, and her arms were raised above her head. The whisper of a kiss tickled the crease of her elbow. The flutter of his lips as he nibbled down her arm to her wrist sent chills racing down her spine. Wrapping her fingers around a wood joint of the headboard, he said, “Keep your hand here.”
“Why?”
“Shh. And keep those eyes closed.” Her other arm received the same treatment, kisses and caresses down its length until Montague placed her hand on the headboard. The bed shifted. He trailed his fingers down her right leg, lifted her ankle. Pressing a kiss to the sole of her foot, he stretched her leg wide.
Cool air drifted across her wet folds. She gulped a deep breath. His fingers, and mouth, had touched her center before, but she’d never felt so exposed to him as she did now. It made her feel wicked, wanton.
Powerful. He wanted her. And right now, only she could give her duke what he needed.
Picking up her other foot, Montague sank his teeth into the pad of her big toe before laying it down so her legs formed a wide vee. Liz loosed a startled laugh at the unexpected bite, the sound turning to a moan as the duke trailed his fingers along her inner thigh. Legs spread, hands gripping the headboard, she panted in anticipation.
All was silent for a minute, and her nerves rose. The bed shifted, and his body crawled up hers. His naked body. Montague had removed his trousers, and Liz fought the urge to open her eyes, examine him as fully as he did her. Patience, she told herself. She’d get her chance.
He kissed her roughly, his tongue demanding entry, taking what it wanted. But she wanted it, too. Her tongue met his, tentatively at first, then grew bolder, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her desire spiked, and she dropped her hands, needing to touch him.
He pressed them back to the headboard. “Open your eyes, Elizabeth. I want you to see what I’m going to do to you. And what you do to me.”
The first thing she saw was his sandy-colored head kissing its way down her body, pausing briefly to nip at the tip of each breast. As he moved, his cock dragged down her leg, heavy and hard. Her mouth watered at the drop of liquid that glistened at the head. She dug her nails into the wood. She wanted to touch him so badly, give back a little of what he gave her.
“Patience.” He kissed the top of her triangle. “When you put your pleasure in my hands”—another kiss, lower—“when you submit, I’ll give you everything.” He glanced up at her with a wicked smirk, and lowered his mouth.
The first swipe of his tongue had her back arching off the bed. The second made her legs thrash around his head. By the third she was mewling like a kitten.
“Montague, oh God, that feels so good.”
A thick finger pressed into her. “Elizabeth, when I’m inside of you”—another finger joined the first, stretching her, inflaming her—“I think you should call me by my Christian name, don’t you? In fact”—his tongue snaked out and flitted across her clit—“I want you to scream my name. I want my name to be the only thing you can remember when you lose control.”
His fingers, scissoring in and out of her, his tongue lapping at her clit, quickly brought her to completion. Her orgasm rolled through her, like waves gently breaking on a shore. She smiled in contentment. Again, Marcus had taught her something new about her body. There was variety to her orgasms; they weren’t all raging infernos.
Crawling up her body, he held himself above her on straight arms. The gray afternoon light from his bedroom window barely illuminated one side of him while flickers of light from the fire danced upon the other. His arms and torso were chiseled, and a light brown thatch of hair dusted his chest. She arched up, hoping to feel that crisp hair against her breasts, but couldn’t reach.
Smiling, he leaned down and took a nipple in his hot mouth, lazily swirling his tongue around the hard peak. Her fingers gripped the headboard so hard she was sure she was denting the wood. “You were awfully quiet,” he said. “No screaming at all. I must work harder.”
He took her other nipple in his mouth and suckled. The feeling was exquisite. “God, you’re good at this.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. The thought of all the women he must have practiced on made her heart ache a little. He was a duke and she was a chambermaid. Nothing more could come of this than the pleasure of the moment.
The plush head of his cock prodded at her opening and she tensed, knowing her future was changing. Any hopes of a good marriage were ending. But then, those dreams had ended the day her sister was sent to Newgate.