Page 21 of A Duchess Disciplined (Dukes of Dominance #1)

CHAPTER 20

A s Catherine sat across from William, she reflected on the state of the room. There was a warm, masculine quality about his private sitting room, and when combined with William’s pointed look over the breakfast table, it made her feel anxious. It was as if lightning traced along the path of her spine.

William poured two glasses of brandy and offered her one. Catherine took it from the desk and held it in her hand, swirling the spirit about and watching as the amber-brown liquid climbed the sides of the glass. “Am I to be lectured?” she asked. “Simply because you received an invitation? If you are so concerned about me embarrassing you, you need not even ask me to accompany you.”

“No, that will not do,” William said. “I am a newlywed man, and if I do not arrive with my wife, the gossip will be merciless.”

“I see.”

It was to be a lecture, then.

“I have been displeased with your behavior of late,” he continued. “You find an opportunity to argue at every occasion, and even when you seek to avoid me, you manage to make me feel as though you are defying me. You huff and puff and glare. Such behavior does not suit a duchess.”

Catherine inwardly bristled. “You provoke me.”

“Sometimes. But often, you find reason to be provoked. The most innocuous statement might send you into a fury.”

Catherine could not honestly argue with that. She took a small sip of brandy and nearly coughed at how much the spirit burned her throat.

“A duchess,” William continued, “should not react to displeasures. Even when she is ignored or dismissed, she must maintain a graceful disposition and not play childish games.”

But he seemed to be playing a game of his own. Catherine sipped the brandy and said nothing still. She did not expect William to admit to his own games, for he seemed to believe that he was capable of doing whatsoever he pleased. It was only women who were told to always be proper.

“Remove your clothing,” he said.

She started and stared at him in disbelief. That familiar heat rose to her face. “Excuse me?”

“I know that you heard me,” he said smoothly. “I asked you to remove your clothes, and I expect you to do so. I do not like repeating myself, wife.”

She set her brandy aside and stood, conscious of his eyes on her. William leaned back against the cushions of his loveseat, fixing her with an imperious expression. Catherine’s toes curled in her slippers as she undid the fastenings of her gown and laid the garment over her chair.

William took an idle sip of his brandy and watched her with narrowed eyes. She unlaced her stays, fingers fumbling with the cords that held them together.

Catherine could not have said if it was anxiety or anticipation that caused her clumsiness, but at last, she had removed them. Next, she removed her petticoats and at last her chemise. Her core pulsed with need, arousal forming within her at even the smallest hint that there might be something intimate in nature to follow.

“Nicely done,” William said. “It seems that you can obey.”

Heat rushed to her face. Catherine could not decide what to do with her hands, so she kept them at her sides. Her fingers twitched as she tried to decide if she ought to cover between her thighs or her breasts with their hard, pert nipples. Or should she cover anything at all? William had already seen everything that she had to offer, but Catherine still felt as though being naked before him was…

It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands. “I do not have to obey you in private. I can be myself in private. Remember?”

William rose fluidly and set his brandy aside. “Your wedding vow says otherwise.”

She scowled at him and wondered how long he was going to mention the wedding vow to justify his behavior. “Everyone knows that wedding vows are traditional,” Catherine said. “The words are less important than the spirit of the vows.”

“You are sounding once more like a solicitor, and I do not like that,” William said. “Stand still. I am going to train you to be a proper duchess.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Her impulse to argue warred with her curiosity and her deep-seated need to feel his hands on her and his manhood sheathed inside her.

William touched her upper back, and Catherine jolted in surprise. “Now, my good girl,” he said. “You must remain still no matter what I do. This will teach you restraint.”

“I see,” she said.

Catherine straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. Remaining still seemed simple enough in principle, but already, her breath had quickened. Her muscles were all tight with anticipation of what might come. William trailed a single finger down the length of her spine, and although Catherine remained still, her body wanted to shiver at the small touch. She ached to press against him, for he touched her so lightly. It was as if his touches were a butterfly flitting about a flower.

“I know it is hard,” he murmured against her ear. “I know that it goes against your nature to be so still, but I would not ask this of you if I did not think you could do it.”

Her toes curled. Catherine took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She imagined that she was a woman carved from marble, a woman who would remain still and silent no matter what happened to her.

“Close your eyes,” William said.

She did.

“Very good,” he murmured. “You are so good at being obedient when you want to be.”

William traced a line from one of her shoulders to the other. He moved his fingertips over her collarbone and her throat, down her arms and up her ribs. Catherine clenched her jaw, as the heat between her thighs grew. She must remain still, as he had asked. She wanted to remain still. It was a challenge, and Catherine was determined to win.

With a pulse of need, Catherine realized that a small part of her also wanted to be his proper duchess, his good girl who could endure anything. Abruptly, pain surged through her nipple, as William pinched her there and rolled the pink bud between his fingers. Her eyes snapped open, and a ragged groan tore from her throat.

William clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I said be still .”

He slapped her rear, and she jolted forward with a rather uncomely squeak. A light stinging spread through her right buttock, and she fought back the urge to reach behind her and caress the place where he had struck.

“Be still and silent,” he said. “If you do not obey me, I shall correct you.”

“You are unkind, sir.”

Another slap. Catherine clenched her buttocks and stifled a groan. William’s fingers rolled her other nipple, and a rush of liquid trickled between her thighs. Her breath quickened, and sweat gathered beneath her breasts. Still, she fought to remain still.

His hands caressed over the marks left by his corrections and down her thighs. William’s fingertips swept through the proof of her arousal, and Catherine’s knees felt weak.

Be still. Be still. Be still.

He approached her from behind and pressed against her, so his hard manhood bulged against the small of her back. He cupped her breasts and kneaded them between his hands. Catherine’s hips bucked, and she realized her error too late.

William rewarded the motion with two quick slaps, one on each buttock. Then, his hands returned to her breasts. His lips pressed against her throat. “Be my good duchess,” he murmured. “I know that you can do what I am asking of you. Be still and let me do as I please.”

She forced down the lump that rose in her throat. Catherine’s pulse raced, increasing in tempo with every ministration. Her center ached madly, pulsing and dripping with need. She ached to rub herself and soothe the growing urge, but she could not. William fondled her breasts, his touches very gently. Without warning, he pinched her nipples. Catherine bit back a groan as the twin points of painful pleasure grew.

William continued pinching and rolling her nipples between his fingers, and Catherine’s need grew so great that her eyes burned with unshed tears. His fingers drifted lower, and he ran them through the curls of hair between her thighs. William’s hand drifted lower, and Catherine’s breath quickened as he approached that one place where she wanted him to touch her the most.

He moved his hand away and slapped her thigh instead. Catherine arched her back. She whimpered with longing. Her thoughts were heady and incoherent with the weight of her desire. Catherine had the wild thought that she might have preferred it if he had instead slapped her center, and the thought of that sharp, stinging slap against the apex of her thighs sent another surge of arousal pulsing from inside her.

“You are not learning this lesson well,” William said, sighing in mock disapproval. “I wonder if I ought to reward you for making the attempt, at least.”

“Please,” she breathed. “I cannot bear it much longer.”

“You will,” he said, chuckling.

Catherine’s entire body trembled, and sweat pooled at the small of her back. She was so very hot, the need inside her like an inferno. By the time William’s torment ended, Catherine was panting for air.

He stepped away, and she heard his heavy footsteps cross the floor. The scrape of a chair followed next. “Come,” William said.

On trembling legs, Catherine did as he asked. She was far too gone with desire to even consider defiance.

“Sit,” he said.

She did, and he gazed at her with a dark expression. A shiver of delight coursed through her.

“Spread your legs.”

Her breath hitched, and she spread her legs apart. Catherine’s core pulsed, and her blood roared in her ears. She was so exposed to him and anyone else who might happen into the bedchamber.

‘Wider,” he said.

Catherine tilted her hips forward, vying for a more comfortable position. She spread her thighs so far apart that it nearly hurt, and William grinned victoriously. “Your task is not to make a sound,” he said. “If you can manage that, I will reward you.”

She wanted to ask how, but because he had bid her to be silent, she only nodded. William knelt before her and placed his hands on her thighs, his thumbs caressing her bare skin. Catherine’s breath came in uneven gasps for air. He could see her wetness glistening on her thighs.

“Close your eyes. I did not say that you could open them.”

She did, dread and desire mingling within her. Catherine felt something wet press against her core, and a gasp ripped from her throat. It was his tongue !

“Quiet,” he reminded her, his breath warm against the coils of hair between her legs.

She clenched the arms of the chair so hard that her knuckles hurt. William’s tongue flicked once more against her center, and her inner walls clenched. He drew his tongue over her pearl and down between her lower lips. Catherine’s hips bucked, and her legs quivered. She clenched her jaw tightly and furrowed her brow, trying not to cry out.

Her muscles all became tense, and her release coiled inside her. The need grew greater and greater until she felt that she could endure it no longer. Catherine felt as though she must break if she was forced to remain silent for just another second. William’s tongue on her thighs and the stinging ache across her buttocks and the dull pain of her nipples all became too much.

“Oh, William!” she cried out, as her orgasm crashed into her.

White light obliterated her vision, and she shattered with the wave of pleasure. It lasted for only an instant, but it felt to Catherine as though she had left her own body. She remained, damp with sweat, panting in the chair.

“You did mostly well,” William said. “Until the very end.”

She opened her eyes, and he grinned at her, looking entirely too satisfied with himself. Catherine’s mind raced as she desperately tried to find some clever retort. Her body and mind were so spent that she could find nothing, though.

“Stand.”

Catherine rose on trembling legs, and William pulled her into his arms. Her body felt so sensitive and exhilarated that the fabric of his waistcoat and jacket felt rough against her. “You seem tired. Perhaps, a brief respite?”

“Yes,” she breathed, finding her voice at last.

In a single, fluid motion, he swept her off her feet. Catherine gasped at the sudden movement, and he only grinned. “Let us take a rest, my dearest wife, and once you are recovered, I think I shall make use of you for my own pleasure.”

Catherine shivered. “You have such a way with words,” she murmured, as the tiredness seeped into her.

William carried her to bed and laid her upon the bedlinens. She gasped for air, her muscles relaxed, and her eyelids fluttered. Catherine’s final thought was that she was—most certainly—a devoted student, if nothing else.