Page 9 of A Duchess Bound (Dukes of Dominance #2)

H is Grace consumed all her senses. Dorothy could look nowhere without seeing him. Her lungs were full of the heady scent of his cologne, accompanied by something deep and masculine. And the warmth and weight of his body pressed against her. She ought to push him away. She ought to yell and fight.

Dorothy did nothing but move her hips, burning in an insatiable heat, while her core ached with a need unlike anything she had ever felt in her life. She tried desperately to soothe the fire curling inside her, but she could not manage to press herself against him hard enough to accomplish that.

The Duke of Greenway lowered his head, just as he had that night in the garden. Dorothy leaned forward, yearning for a kiss. He tilted his head back and smiled mockingly. “Your first lesson,” he said mildly. “I only reward good girls. Why did you come here?”

A lump rose in her throat. “For Bridg?—”

“Ah!” he cut her off. “The truth .”

She pulled against his wrists and arched her back, desperate to kiss him. He did not relent, only smiled at her with that familiar condescension. Her struggles, just like her arguments, only seemed to amuse him. Dimly, Dorothy knew he had promised to release her if she only told him to stop.

She should do that. She should demand her release, but?—

But she did not want him to release her. Dorothy wanted him to pull her into his arms, to rut against her and relieve her of the burning she felt inside.

“I—” Shame filled her. “I c—cannot say, Your Grace.”

“Oh, but you must. If you tell me the truth, I might reward you. Poor thing, I can tell that you need me.”

She pressed her legs together so tightly that they hurt. “Your Grace,” she groaned. “ Please .”

“You have only to answer my question.”

She closed her eyes. “I—I came here for you.”

“And what were you hoping I would do for you? Or is it to you?”

Dorothy shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. She could not say the words. It was too humiliating, too embarrassing, too wanton . She was a lady from a respected and well-bred family.

A light pressure against her mouth. She gasped, eyes snapping open.

His Grace ran his tongue along her lower lip.

Dorothy groaned, her hips jolting forward.

Deep inside, she had the sensation of herself curling up.

It was as though she was climbing toward some summit, to some conclusion that she did not understand.

“Answer me,” he murmured.

She could not possibly answer such a question! Dorothy’s throat was thick. She moved her hips, trying to soothe the sensation growing inside her, but to no avail. The feelings inside her felt too strong to contain, and yet they refused to?—

To achieve whatever the end of this might be. Was it pleasure? Her thoughts were all scattered and heady that she could not even recall the few things that she did know about carnal pleasures.

Her body’s needs grew greater than her desire to keep her pride intact. “I—I wanted this,” she whimpered. “All of this. I wanted you to pin me against the wall and kiss me.”

“Good girl,” he said. “So very good.”

She could not muster indignation at the pet name, only a fissure of anticipation because he had said that good girls would receive rewards.

His Grace’s mouth pressed against hers with such force that he stole Dorothy’s breath from her.

She kissed him back with equal fervor. That sensation in her curled tighter and tighter, and she moaned raggedly into his mouth.

His Grace was hard against her stomach, and the realization that he desired her sent a jolt of sensation through her.

She ached. She needed . And worst of all, she could not even say what she needed. It was as though her body had come along and found itself deprived of something wonderful.

The Duke of Greenway broke the kiss, and she gasped for air.

His lips found her neck. He kissed and nipped and scraped his teeth against her skin, leaving a damp trail from her neck down to the tops of her breasts.

His Grace paused briefly to gather her wrists in one hand.

With his other hand, he fondled her breasts, kneading them through her bodice.

Dorothy cried out in a desperate plea. Her nipples hardened, straining against her chemise and stays. “Oh, please!” she begged. “Please, Your Grace!”

“Please?” he murmured, kissing her neck once more. “Would you like more lessons? There is much that I can teach you.”

“Yes,” she rasped. “Yes, please.”

Dorothy’s thoughts fluttered wildly in her mind, like leaves caught amid a summer gale.

He chuckled. “I will teach you…provided that you submit to me.”

The Duke of Greenway’s teeth brushed against her neck. Then, he bit down hard . Dull pain blossomed along the side of her neck, and a ragged groan tore from her throat. Dorothy’s thighs quivered, and her inner walls pulsed. She felt a wetness between her thighs, accompanied by a wave of pleasure.

“ Interesting ,” His Grace breathed against her neck. “Will you submit to me, my lady?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice scarcely louder than a whisper.

He withdrew suddenly and released her wrists. Dorothy stared at him, her arms still stretched over her head, as if he had left her fixed to the wall like that. It was…

It was hard to form coherent thoughts. As she stared at him, awareness slowly drifted back to her.

Dorothy became aware of her heated face, the sweat pooling at the small of her back, and at the back of her knees.

She lowered her arms, wincing at the faint ache in her shoulders.

Her neck ached from where he had bitten her.

The hot wetness between her thighs was like a condemnation. Dorothy cried out, the past several minutes crashing into her all at once. Mortification soon followed. She clasped her hands over her mouth and muffled the horrified sound that ached to emerge.

That terrible man only smiled. “You have until the end of the week to consider my proposal. If you are truly willing to submit to me, all you must do is return to my townhouse and surrender yourself. If you do, I will teach you everything—things you have never even imagined. If you do not, you may consider our affair ended. I will pursue you no longer.”

He turned away from her and nonchalantly poured himself a glass of brandy. Dorothy stared at him with wide eyes. She was suddenly so very cold and damp with sweat, and the proof of her arousal between her thighs.

She ought to say something. She ought to declare that she would never submit to him or any man. Dorothy opened her mouth to?—

To say something. To say anything .

His Grace sipped his brandy and smiled. “Did you have something that you wanted to tell me? Or have I stolen all your words, my lady?”

Summoning the last of her shattered defiance, she crossed the room and seized an empty glass.

She fixed her eyes on His Grace’s face and poured herself a glass of brandy.

With only a second of quivering hesitation, she tossed her head back and emptied the glass in a long gulp.

The spirit burned down the back of her throat and brought tears to her eyes. She swallowed.

“And do you imagine that little display has earned you something?” the duke asked. “Good girls do not drink brandy like that. Are you a common drunkard, my lady?”

Dorothy could not think of anything to say, so she said nothing at all. She stormed from the room, fighting down the impulse to cry. And over what ?

The Duke of Greenway had not forced himself upon her. He had not even tried to seduce her, not really. She had come to his townhouse with the intent of seeing him, and she had not even told Elias or Bridget of her whereabouts.

A throat cleared. She halted abruptly, her breath catching, as His Grace’s butler bowed deeply to her.

He knows, Dorothy thought, her mortification growing.

“Shall I fetch a carriage for you, my lady?” he asked.

“Y—yes,” she said.

“Very good.”

He left her alone in the foyer. Dorothy swallowed hard. She still felt damp between her legs, and she had no means with which to clean herself. Dorothy would have to ride all the way home with that uncomfortable dampness between her thighs.

She was not especially horrified at the prospect.

Rather, there was something almost exciting about it.

That worried her more than if she had detested the sensation.

Dorothy curled her hands into fists, her mind whirling with everything that had happened.

She hated that man, loathed him with every fiber of her being, and yet there was a small part of her that wanted to return to him at once.

To submit, like he had said. But Dorothy did not even really know what he meant by that. Was she supposed to follow his every order like some trained pet?

The butler returned. “The carriage is ready, my lady.”

He had produced the carriage rather quickly, and with cold dread, Dorothy realized this must be a common occurrence. His Grace was a rake, after all. Ladies probably did not linger with him for very long. He might very well have another lady on her way.

“Thank you,” Dorothy said.

She wanted to scream and cry and break something. Possibly all three of those things at once. It took all the strength of her composure and genteel breeding to leave the townhouse with her back straight and her head held high.

“My lady,” the footman said as he helped her climb into the carriage.

Did he also realize what she and His Grace had done? Did the entire staff know of the duke’s sordid behavior? Dorothy swallowed down the lump that rose in her throat. They must think that she was nothing now.

Just another sullied woman who had received all the warnings of rakes and succumbed to one anyway.

“Thank you,” she said.

The footman flashed her a polite smile and closed the carriage door. Dorothy was alone. She took a shuddering breath for air. A second one.

Then, a sob tore from her throat. Tears burned in her eyes. She rubbed roughly at her face with the back of her hand. What had she done? Why had she not simply asked him to stop?

The Duke of Greenway was unquestionably a rake, but he had also sounded entirely sincere when he said he would stop if she only asked.

So why hadn’t she? Why had she let him keep her pinned against that wall?

Why had she let him touch her? She had arched against him and strained to make him kiss her.

The carriage jolted into motion, and Dorothy curled her hands into her skirts. She was ruined. Even though she had never desired marriage, the shame of being soiled still crept over her. This encounter could never happen again.

Whatever the duke had meant when he told her to submit , she could not do that. No, it was best for her to remain as distant from him as possible. She ought to avoid him at every ball and soiree and keep very, very far away from him.

But a sense of unease settled in the pit of her stomach. Slowly, she inched her fingers beneath her gown and traced along the inside of her thigh. The wetness was still there.

She wanted there to be another encounter. Against all reason, Dorothy wanted that man to do exactly this and more to her.