Page 22 of A Duchess Bound (Dukes of Dominance #2)

H is Grace was proving to be especially insufferable since their encounter at the cottage. The man she had only seen occasionally suddenly seemed as though he was everywhere, making sly comments and slipping her notes at every ball, garden party, and soiree.

“ How are you enjoying the ball, my lady ?” he had asked at Lady Hart’s ball.

She hated how she had flushed at the question.

“ I love the solitude of the country ,” the duke had said on another occasion. “ Do you? There are simply so many pleasures that one may find away from London .”

Those words had been accompanied by a smirk and a gleam in his eyes.

No one seemed to have realized, or even suspected, that she might hold some measure of attraction for the wretched man, much less that she might be engaged in an affair with him. Still, his attentions had drawn a handful of remarks.

“ His Grace was rather unkind just then! Why do you think he said such cruel words? ”

“ Did he pass you a note? ”

“ It is strange that he would ask you to dance. I believe he favors young, unmarried misses .”

Enough was enough. That was what brought Dorothy to that rakish man’s house after her own household had long since gone to bed. She had thought that His Grace might be asleep and that she might have to rouse him from bed, but firelight flickered merrily through the windows of his townhouse.

It seemed as though his household kept odd hours.

A knot twisted in her chest. What if he were engaged in some rather disreputable activities at such a late hour?

That would make sense for a rake, and Dorothy had no desire to stumble on that .

After a moment of fidgeting with her skirts before his townhouse, she gathered her courage and approached the door, which opened before she even had a chance to knock.

His butler bowed humbly. “My lady, do come in.”

The man was rather forward.

“Thank you.”

She entered, and the door was promptly closed behind her.

“I shall take you to His Grace,” the butler said, after taking her cloak. “He is in the parlor.”

“Thank you,” Dorothy said.

She supposed that the impropriety ought not to surprise her.

This butler had probably witnessed more of the duke’s dalliances than he would wish to admit.

Lady Dorothy bit the inside of her cheek, thinking of all the respectable ladies that might have crossed His Grace’s threshold at disreputable hours.

She was but one of many.

“Your Grace, you have a guest,” the butler announced at the doorway.

“Thank you, Halls.”

The butler bowed stiffly and retreated. Dorothy entered the room and found His Grace lounging over the settee, a glass of brandy held lazily in one hand. He seemed to be doing nothing at all, but a book discarded on the nearby table indicated some recent industry.

“Your Grace,” Dorothy said, heat rising to her face.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shook his head. “My sweet, I fear that we are far too intimate for you to still call me Your Grace . Gerard, if you would.”

Her pulse jumped. “That is entirely inappropriate.”

“Since when do you care about impropriety?” he asked. “I can think of many other deeds which we have committed that are significantly less proper than how you address me.”

“That is different.”

His Grace—Gerard, she supposed she ought to call him—barked in laughter. “Is it? Oh, my lady! You are absurd.”

He rose languidly and strode to a cabinet, from which he produced a glass. Gerard poured a small measure of brandy into it and offered the drink to her. Dorothy took it, a little defiance stirring in her breast.

“You have no right to insult me for wishing to maintain the image of decorum.”

“No? I do not insult you,” he said, flinging himself once again onto the settee. “And you do not dislike me nearly as much as you pretend. Look at how flushed your face is! You enjoy my words and my request that you call me Gerard . And I suspect you will enjoy me calling you Dorothy .”

“Perhaps, my face is flushed with anger.”

“I doubt that. I am well enough acquainted with you to know the difference.”

She took an anxious swallow of the brandy, which burned a little against her throat. What was she to say to that? Dorothy could not deny that he knew her quite well, far more than any other man did.

“Well,” Dorothy said. “If you know what your words do to me, you should do the gentlemanly thing and cease speaking with me at social occasions. I wish to maintain some measure of discretion.”

“A pity.”

“A pity ?” Her voice pitched higher. “My reputation cannot be sullied! I am trying to see my sister happily wed.”

“Doubtlessly, she will be. I find it remarkable how you are concerned about my behavior, while saying nothing about your own,” Gerard mused.

“This is the third occasion on which you have met me unaccompanied and by the cover of nightfall. That is quite improper behavior for a young lady who wishes to persuade me to practice discretion.”

Dorothy inhaled sharply. “That is different. I am less likely to be observed coming to you by night. You are taking unnecessary risks in crowded ballrooms and gardens, where we are more likely to be observed.”

“With such skills of argumentation, you should be a barrister,” he said mockingly.

Dorothy took a sip of her brandy and glared at him over the top of her glass. “Do not dismiss my concerns.”

“I am not. You must remember, Dorothy —” He grinned slyly. “—I have engaged in several affairs with a variety of ladies, while this is only your first. It is expected that you should be anxious.”

Dorothy sighed and looked askance. “You are the worst man I have ever met.”

“And yet you keep meeting me,” Gerard said, his eyes sparkling. “How strange. You promised to submit to me, and this behavior does not seem especially submissive . I almost wonder if you are purposefully disobeying me.”

Dorothy cast him an offended look. “Your skills for invention are such that you ought to be a writer. I have seldom met a man with such talents for concocting a tale.”

“That is kind of you. It would be kinder if you would provide me with some inspiration for my next story.”

Gerard spread his legs and arched an eyebrow. Despite her resolve to be firm with him, Dorothy’s will wavered. Her gaze wandered down his trim waist to his muscular thighs, lingering a little on the place where his manhood was.

“If you wish for inspiration from me, you must do something which rouses interest,” she said.

The words seemed as though they had come from someone far bolder than she.

“I see,” he said, placing his brandy down. “Would you be sufficiently interested if I said that I want to see you?”

“You are already gazing at me.”

“You know what I mean.” He patted the place between his legs. “I want to watch you pleasure yourself.”

Her breath hitched. “I do not know how. Not—not well enough to show you. It was only once.”

The excuses tumbled from her throat, and Dorothy could not even say precisely why she made them. Why did she still have moments of shyness before this man, who had seen her in every disheveled state again and again?

Gerard’s lips twitched into an amused smile. “I shall instruct you.”

The thought of bringing herself to completion with his guidance sent a fissure of delight coursing through her. “How vulgar!”

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

“You could have chosen a more romantic quote.”

“Perhaps. But I find that this quote is the truest to the situation,” he said. “You know that you want me. Be my good girl and show me how much.”

“You are patronizing.”

“I am right .”

Dorothy set her glass beside his and slowly climbed between his legs. She remained on her knees and hesitantly hitched up her skirts, revealing her sex to his hungry gaze. Cold air swept over her thighs and caressed that delicate place, which quivered already in anticipation of her touch.

“Yes,” he murmured. “See? You are capable of obedience.”

“A gentleman would not gloat over his victory.”

“Neither of us believes me to be a gentleman.”

“That is true,” Dorothy said.

She gathered her skirts in one hand and let the other trail between her thighs. Her fingers brushed over the tight curls of hair and to the pearl nestled at her entrance.

“Before I begin instructing, I think you should show me what you already know,” Gerard said. “I suspect you have been dishonest about your skills. Is it out of some sense of modesty? You can no longer claim to be a blushing maiden, ignorant of such matters.”

She let her fingers drift lower, caressing up and down between her folds.

Jolts of pleasure traced the path of her spine, and the muscles in her stomach tightened.

Gerard watched her with such intensity that it took her breath away.

While he had seen her in a state of undress, bare to him countless times, there was something even more intimate about him seeing her like this .

“When you lie in your bed and touch yourself like this,” Gerard said lowly, “do you say my name? Do you imagine that it is my hands touching you instead, making you wet?”

Oh . Her body tensed at once. The image of Gerard crawling into her bed by night and pressing his lips to her breasts, her stomach, her sex was so compelling that her thighs quivered.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I think of you. But it was—it was only once. I prefer your touch.”

“How flattering.”

Dorothy tentatively pressed a finger inside herself. A little pulse of pain flourished, so she moved the digit carefully, letting her body adjust and loosen.

A low groan tore from Gerard’s throat. “I am imagining that it is my hand instead.”

“It could be.”

“No, not yet.”

She brought her finger in and out, her hips moving in motion to her thrusts and retreats. Dorothy’s thumb caressed the place where her folds met. Her pace grew feverish, as did her desperation to reach the glorious release that she always did when Gerard touched her.

“Very good,” he said, grasping her thighs.

His sudden touch sent her jolting forward, and she gasped for air.

When Dorothy brought her gaze down, she saw first that her nipples were pert and aching, visible even through her gown.

She spied his manhood, straining against his trousers.

It would be the easiest thing for him to unfasten his trousers and free himself.

Dorothy could spear herself on him. A lump rose in her throat.

“Shall I—do you wish—” she struggled to find a cohesive way of framing her request. “Your manhood is?—”

“Quite large. Quite aching,” he said. “I am in agony, my lady.”

“Let me relieve your agony,” she said, nearly breathless.

Her inner walls responded eagerly to the words, clamping fiercely over her finger.

“Not yet.” Gerard shifted beneath her and brought his hand up to curl around her neck. “Continue touching yourself. I want to kiss you while you come.”

She hissed between her teeth. Gerard’s mouth met hers, indomitable and hungry.

Dorothy groaned raggedly, moving her finger more quickly inside herself.

She added another, ignoring the faint pinch.

Her wetness covered her hand. She quivered and rocked as she kissed him, as if her life depended on it.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close, trapping her hand in place.

Her wrist ached, and her lungs burned for want of air. She gasped and struggled, her body lost in the throes of pleasure. At last, her release thundered through her, like a storm coming over a beach. She screamed against Gerard’s mouth, and he drew back.

Dorothy gasped, shaken from the force of her release. Gerard pressed his forehead against hers and chuckled, the sound reverberating through Dorothy’s heaving breast. “I think you knew far more than you led me to believe, you wicked girl. When next we meet, I must punish you for lying to me.”

Her blood quickened with anticipation. Dorothy’s sex quivered, as if already her body ached for the next encounter.

“Will you deny me again?” she asked, her voice raw. “Again and again?”

“It depends on my mood,” he whispered, his breath scalding against her neck. “Maybe I shall deprive you until you beg for release. Or maybe I shall do something else, something worse.”

She shivered. What could be worse ? What could be more wonderful ?

“It is not much of a punishment if I enjoy how the night ends,” she said, letting her skirts drop.

They did not drop neatly. Instead, the material hung awkwardly between them, crushed between her body and his. Gerard tipped his head back and smiled. “My dear Dorothy, I would advise you not to say that again. Perhaps I will deprive you over the course of many nights?”

She hissed between her teeth. “You would not!”

He winked and shifted around her, swinging his legs over the side of the settee. Gerard took a swig of his brandy and cast her an amused look. “I shall consider being more discreet, but I can make no promises. I derive too much enjoyment from teasing you.”

She swallowed hard. “Please.”

His expression softened. “Perhaps, I can be a little less obtrusive.”

It was not the answer she had wanted, but he seemed sincere. Dorothy supposed that any concessions were better than none at all.

“I should go,” she said.

“Yes. I will have a carriage take you home.” Gerard paused, his brow furrowing.

“I know that you are an exceptional woman, but I would advise you to find a confidante to accompany you if you intend on continuing these nightly visits. London is perilous at night for any woman and infinitely more so for a woman with means.”

“I am taking precautions, Your Grace.”

“Gerard.”

“Gerard,” she agreed. “I promise.”

Still, he was right. As loath as she was to admit it, the night presented greater dangers than being caught engaged in an affair. Still, the thought of finding a confidante was intimidating. Such a person would have the means to ruin her.

“I shall consider your advice,” she said, “just as you will consider practicing more discretion.”

He sighed and smiled wryly. “I suppose that is all I can ask from you.”

“Indeed, it is.”

Feeling brazen, she placed a brief kiss on his cheek and then turned to leave. At least, she had accomplished what she had set out to do. If Dorothy was honest with herself, she would also—reluctantly—concede that she had hoped this visit might result in just the smallest amorous encounter.