Page 14 of A Duchess to Reclaim (The Devil’s Masquerade #2)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“G ive me your hand,” Dominic commanded, his tone harsh.

Amelia gave him that same sensual, vulpine smile she’d given him back at Ellworth, and placed her right wrist in his palm. Her silent obedience only served to amplify his arousal, and he had to bite back the wolfish growl trying to force its way out of his throat.

He undid women. That’s what he’d always done, it’s who he was. His dominance turned their minds and bodies into his personal playthings not the other way around. And yet at Ellsworth, that was exactly what Amelia had done.

He had not finished with that kiss. It was supposed to be a reprimand for her sarcasm, but instead she’d somehow turned the punishment around on him. The carriage ride back to London had been full of silent tension and while Amelia had seemed quite content with it and kept a smiling face on the scenery; it had caused a very different effect on him.

While she had no trouble keeping her eyes off of him he hadn’t been able to take his off of hers. He’d studied everything about her. The tilt of her small chin, the curve of her milk and honey cheeks; the slope of her delicate nose and the way her brows and thick lashes highlighted her almond-shaped golden-honey eyes.

She’d changed back into one of her more appropriate London gowns, and he despised the high collar and looser fit of it; keeping him from appreciating the small swell of her natural curves.

“Are you sure this gown is what you want to practice in,” he ground out presently, winding the wrap around her wrist and hand. “It is not exactly practical.”

“It is what I would be wearing if I would have to throw a punch at someone,” Amelia countered. “Might as well learn with the same restrictions.”

Her logic and obvious ability to think more clearly than himself only darkened his mood, and he ground his teeth against the onslaught of need coursing through him.

“Other hand,” he commanded when finished with the first. She did so, and even giggled, giggled at the way he jerked and wound the wrap with frustration.

“Stop that,” he snapped, fastening the end of the wrap in place. “You won’t be giggling like a school girl when you’re about to punch someone.”

Amelia pressed her lips and appeared unbothered as she pulled her wrist away from him and rose to her feet. She turned away from him without a word and toward the punching bag, and gave it a hit.

“No, no, not like that,” he chastised. “God, you’re just going to get ground into the dirt if you hit someone like that.”

“Well then tell me what to do, oh wise instructor,” she replied haughtily, crossing her arms as she glanced back at him. “How do I not get ground into the dirt?”

She was mocking him again. Only this time it was blatantly heightening his arousal as well as his annoyance. He took a stand behind her, gripped her neck, and forced her to look forward at the punching bag. He then moved his hands down to her wrists and pulled her arms away from one another.

“First thing you need to understand is that your size is already working against you if seeking to hit a man,” he replied, kicking her feet wider apart. “Even a man as short as you is going to be stronger, more balanced.”

“I am taller than most women,” Amelia retorted. “I’m only shorter to you because you’re a giant.”

Her comment made him scoff, but he fought the urge to grin.

“Secondly,” he pushed forward, twisting her hips with his hands so her right leg went further back, “You need to understand that if you’re ever in a situation where you have to punch a man, you’re most likely only going to get one good hit. Don’t stay around and let him knock you down. Throw all of your power into one great hit, and run.”

“Where do I run to?” She asked.

He pushed down on her hips so she would bend her knees as he said, “To me.”

Amelia glanced back at him, some of that haughtiness fading.

“Eyes on your target,” he chastised, turning her head back to the punching bag.

He ignored the emotional slither of warmth he’d felt at the appreciation he’d seen in his eyes.

“When you’re throwing that punch you need to take a proper stance. It will help you not just with balance but force. Keep your knees bent, and your right foot slightly back. When you’re ready to hit lean back slightly on your foot and then send all your strength forward into your fist. Like this.”

He stopped talking for a moment and took his own stance by her side, then demonstrated. The bag sailed backward from the force of his punch, and Amelia’s eyes widened. Dominic then caught the bag is swung back toward them, stilling it.

“Your power is going to travel from your foot all the way to your fist. Very much like how a hammer in a pistol does to a bullet,” he explained.

Excitement glittered in her eyes as she quickly turned her head toward him.

“Will you teach me how to shoot next?” She asked eagerly.

The very idea of her wielding a gun had a strange effect on him, and Dominic grumbled up a prayer as arousal surged through him yet again.

“Let us get through this season first,” he muttered.

Dominic then showed her how to properly hold her fists, and then proceeded to let her throw a few punches at the bag. His irritation slowly turned into satisfaction as Amelia dropped her teasing attitude and took his instruction seriously.

“Where did you learn to do this?” Amelia panted fifteen minutes later. “ Why did you learn to do this?”

Dominic chuckled.

“Not as easy as it looks, is it?” He asked, genuinely enjoying himself now.

She shook her head, still trying to catch her breath.

“My mates and I needed an outlet at school and fencing did not have quite the edge we needed, I suppose,” Dominic told her.

Since her hands were wrapped, he picked up her glass of water and brought it to her lips. Their eyes locked as he gently tipped the glass, letting the water slide gradually into her mouth. Something about it made his arousal return with a vengeance, and he grew tense again. He pulled the glass away more roughly than intended, causing some water to dribble down her chin.

“Why did you need the edge?” She asked, ignoring the drops of water.

Dominic, however, could not, and reached up to swipe them away from his thumb. As he did so Amelia’s cheeks flushed brightly, and he felt a wicked glee in seeing her turn colors.

“We all had our reasons,” he replied, letting his fingers rest on her chin.

“What were yours?”

He shrugged.

“Nothing too awful I suppose. My father nearly dragged our finances to the ground before he died and the short time my uncle took over while I was in school did not help matters. I would concentrate on my studies a bit too much. Get wrapped up in the material and end up sitting hunched over my desk for hours. It created a sort of pent up frustration when I would finally rise.”

“So nothing’s changed,” she teased, and he smirked as he gave her chin the gentlest of shoves.

“Was it hard?” She asked next, her tone softer. “Losing your father?”

Dominic shrugged.

“I barely knew the man. Or my mother. I was raised mostly by nannies and tutors so when they died, there was not much to miss.”

The sympathy pouring from his gaze made him bristle at first, but then he stopped himself as he remembered Amelia’s own loss.

“You lost your mother as well,” he said slowly. “That’s why your father was able to sell you. There was no one in his way.”

Hurt laced through Amelia’s eyes but Dominic wasn’t deterred.

“Use that,” he said quickly, reaching up and pointing at her expression, using that moment to take her back to the lesson.

“That anger. Not with your moves, but the strength within your moves.”

“I have no idea what that means!” She replied in an exasperated tone.

He put both hands up, flexing his fingers.

“Right, left, right,” he called out.

Amelia quickly got back into her stance and threw three ill-aimed punches into his palms. He felt her aggression but not her strength.

“Wrong,” he told her, putting his hands down and sliding them into his pockets. “You’re going to want to hit when you’re angry but if you throw punches like that you’ll get knocked flat.”

“Well, I don’t know what you mean!” She retorted again. “Your teaching makes no sense!”

“Your father’s standing before you right now, readying your chains and I’m not there to stop it this time,” he said, raising left hand once more. “Now show me how you’re going to stop him.”

Amelia’s fist shot out toward his face instead of his hand. He easily side-stepped it and with a surprisingly graceful twist, wrapped his body around hers, his hand going to wrist as he moved her toward the punching bag.

“You’re a fool!” She snapped at him, trying to break free from his grip.

“Maybe so,” he chuckled into her ear, “But I’m a fool that’s going to teach you to control your temper in a fight. You had all your strength coming at me in that punch and you missed. You think the person you’re fighting is going to give you an opportunity to right yourself and try again?”

She huffed several angry breaths, but shook her head as she glared at the punching bag.

“Now this time sink back into your body and move with me. I can show you what I mean,” he promised.

This time she did not banter with him; did not question, but took his advice with silence and a look of concentration. In doing so every punch she landed got better; each hit landing with more impact, precision, and quickness. Eventually he backed away from her, letting her stand on her own as he continued to call out shots. By the time they finished an hour later, he was downright impressed.

“So you can take direction,” he teased, his mood now lighter as he began to unwrap her hands.

“When it is important,” she retorted, and as he looked up at her through his lashes, he saw she was yet again giving him that haughty grin.

He huffed out a laugh and smirked as he shook his head and continued unwrapping.

“So is knocking your father out the reason why you want to learn this skill?” He asked.

He thought she’d at least chuckle, but Amelia only shook her head as Dominic pulled away the loose wrap and began massaging her wrist and palm. As he did so, he felt a shiver go up her arm. In turn, pleasure spiked through him. Not with as much aggression as before, but instead with satisfaction.

“I always thought it was a useful skill,” Amelia confessed, “I just never understood why it was only taught to boys. I feel that women would have more need of it.”

Dominic’s brow drew up as he tilted his chin to look at her face, and saw that her expression was contemplative.

“Why so?” He asked, flexing her wrist gently up and down.

“Because more women are attacked by men than men are” she answered. “Because we have to protect our virtue while men are encouraged to give it away. Because sometimes- too many times- the men who supposedly protect us try to force it from us. When they are successful, even when they are not, it is women who are considered tarnished. Yet are punished by society if we fight back.”

Dominic frowned at the emotionless, matter-of-fact way Amelia described her reasons. He couldn’t combat a single one of them because he knew it all to be true.

“Perhaps you are right,” he said, placing her right hand back into her lap before picking up her left, “Perhaps it is a skill better served by women.”

“You have no idea how much I wish could go back in time to use this skill,” Amelia replied, her tone suddenly thick.

Dominic slowed his unwrapping of her left wrist and looked at her again. Sadness had started to bleed into her far-off gaze.

“What would you do if you could?” He asked, his voice gentle.

“I would deliver a sharp blow to Roland the moment he’d tried to force me,” she replied viciously. “I wouldn’t have been afraid to either, because I would have known what to do. And my father- I would have beaten his head in the night he brought me to that auction.”

Sympathy poured through Dominic as he pulled away the second wrap and repeated the massage on her wrist. There was so much fury in her voice. So much pain. He’d taught her how to turn that into power, but still, the urge to do something about her discomfort was overwhelming him.

“Roland is gone and your father holds no power over you now,” he told her, his thumbs moving in firm but gentle circles over her wrists. “And if he is foolish enough to try to regain it, I assure you someone will certainly beat his head in.”

He was hoping for a smile, but Amelia’s frown only deepened as she shook her head.

“It is not me I am worried for any longer. It is my sisters. He wants to be rid of them already. Whatever money troubles he’s facing, he’s taking it out on them.”

“We will not let that happen,” Dominic replied quickly, his tone gruffer than intended.

Amelia’s eyes snapped back to his, those honey-gold orbs swirling with pain and disgust.

“What can we do?” She asked, her tone accusing. “If we took them he could accuse us of abduction. Even if we explained to the constables that it was for the girls’ protection the law still states that they are owned by their father until he signs them off to a husband.”

Dominic thought for a moment. He’d known since their wedding day that Amelia’s sisters were important to her, but he’d been so busy with carrying on his own life that he hadn’t truly given them a thought more than that.

“I will speak with my people,” he answered finally. “See what we can do. Since your father is so driven by money, perhaps I could even purchase them.”

“They will not be sold!” Amelia shot back, pulling her hand away from his.

She looked at him with narrowed, distrusting eyes; as if ready to run away from him at any second.

“That is not what I meant and you know it,” Dominic said patiently, holding her gaze. “I am saying that if money will incentivize him to hand over parental rights to you, then we should consider it. They would not be my property just as you are not my property.”

“That’s not what you said this morning,” she hissed back.

“I meant that you are my responsibility, Amelia,” he retorted just as quickly. “And I am certainly not your enemy here.”

Guilt flashed through Amelia’s eyes her brows dipped and her plump lips pressed tightly together.

“I know that,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Although he’d been greatly annoyed at her confidence from the morning’s dance lesson, Dominic suddenly craved it. He’d rather her be haughty and difficult with him than so despondent.

“All right,” he sighed, rising to his feet. “I shall do it.”

Amelia looked up at him in confusion as walked toward the door.

“Do what?” She asked.

“Show you how to fire a pistol,” he replied.

Excitement ate away at Amelia’s saddened eyes, and she shot to her feet.

“ Really?!”

“ Not with ammunition,” he specified. “We are in city limits and to do so would be dangerous. But I will show you how to hold it, the proper stance, and how to aim.”

The brilliant smile that spread across her face sent his heart throbbing and he couldn’t help but chuckle at her as she pranced eagerly to his side. He fished the key from his pocket they left through the side door of his in-home boxing practice room, which led directly to his armory. It was the only room in the house that did not have a direct entryway into the main hall, and he always kept it locked.

Amelia gasped as he lit a few lamps in the darkened room, and she peered around at his vast collection. Just as he enjoyed collecting truths, he was the same with weapons. Some were of present design, but he prided himself on the ones he’d been able to collect from not just the past, but all over the world.

* * *

“There are so many!” Amelia exclaimed, looking among the many tables and cases filled with them. “And so organized.”

Dominic chuckled as he took her hand and led her over to his small arms table.

“I like to know where everything is at all times,” he explained, then in almost boyish enthusiasm he added, “I also quite like how they look all laid out like this.”

“They’re beautiful,” Amelia breathed, waving a hand over the gun-laden table.

He drew up a curious brow.

“You truly think so?” He asked.

Amelia nodded.

“Oh yes. Not just the designs, but the power you just know they are capable of.”

She then looked away from the table toward him. You are like these guns, she thought. Beautiful. Powerful. Deadly.

Amelia raked her gaze further down his body. He’d removed his jacket for their boxing lesson and had once more rolled up his sleeves like he had during their dancing lesson. Only this time he’d taken it a step further and undone three or four of the buttons at the top of his white shirt. It allowed a swath of dark chest hair to peek through in a rather enticing way. Slowly she brought her eyes up further and when she reached his face, she found an amused smirk on her lips.

“Already feeling better I see,” he said.

It was true. Her emotions had dipped heavily toward sadness as she recalled her past and her current fears, but somehow, surrounded by Dominic and guns, she felt that sadness melt away.

“I will feel better when I get to hold one like you promised,” she replied.

Dominic’s smirk grew into a grin, and he chuckled as he stepped closer to her side. One hand went to the small of his waist as the other reached down toward the table and picked up the smallest gun.

“This is a Derringer,” he explained to her, holding it out before her. “While many English men carry them now, it was actually created by an American man in 1786. It is a single barrel pistol that shoots a .41 caliber bullet with black powder. It is not dueling gun but is best used at close range.”

Dominic then drew his hand away from her lower back to wrap his body around hers and pick up her hand. With the other, he carefully placed the weapon in her palm. Pleasure, not only from his touch but the feel of the pistol as well, tingled through her fingertips as he guided her hands with his own; showing her how to hold it.

“See that little ridge at the end of the barrel?” He asked, his breath warm against her ear.

Amelia nodded, feeling her body relax further into his.

“That is how one takes aim. You raise the pistol up; arms outstretched, elbows slightly bent. Spread your feet a little farther apart- yes just like that.”

Dominic’s voice dipped into a deeper, huskier tone as he added that little note of praise, and the anger she’d felt only a few moments earlier bled completely away.

“Now line your sight up with that little ridge,” he commanded her.

Amelia followed his instructions, her heartbeat feeling more pronounced as the thrill from holding the pistol interlaced with the pleasure from being held closely by Dominic.

“Very good,” he praised softly into her ear. “Now find your target.”

Amelia looked around the room at her options. There were several animal heads lining the upper walls of the room toward the ceiling. Different species of deer. A wolf. Large cats and other predators. She chose the boar’s head directly across from her.

“Just a little higher,” Dominic advise, tilting her arms up. “There. Perfect.”

He pulled the hammer down at the top of the gun, then wrapped his pointer finger around hers at the trigger.

“Bang.”

A whimper escaped Amelia’s lips as the rumbled word brushed against her ear and her nipples hardened to the point of pain. Her arousal had been a terror to deal with lately, and now was even effecting the way she looked at guns. Yet the very idea emboldened her somehow.

She let her grip loosen on the Derringer so that it was cradled completely in Dominic’s strong hands, then turned in his arms. Unable to help herself, she curled her fingers around the open hems of his parted shirt, and felt another bout of desire course through her as her knuckles brushed against his chest hair.

“Promise me,” she whispered, searching his eyes imploringly. “After this season is over. After this whole mess is over, you take me back to Ellsworth and show me how to properly shoot.”

Dominic’s silver eyes searched hers as he lowered the pistol the table, and she nearly whimpered again as his hands rested on her hips.

“You truly think you would enjoy it?” He asked.

“I think I’m learning to enjoy many things,” she murmured, pressing herself closer to him.

Dominic’s fingers tightened at her hips as a low growl escaped his chest.

“Amelia Hollowcroft, you are without a doubt the most confusing woman I have ever met,” he told her, a smile tugging at his lips.

She smirked as she slid the fingers of her right hand fully into his chest hair.

“It is Astorfield now, Your Grace,” she purred, and tugged at the hair in her fingers.

A growl erupted from Dominic’s chest and in an instant she was losing herself to his kiss. She tried, for a moment to battle his dominance but all too quickly she found herself submitting her control to him; reveling in the way it felt to be able to hand her needs and body someone else.

“Tell me stop,” Dominic commanded between kisses, his tone ragged.

“No,” she moaned, and in her own need to touch him, she ripped at his shirt; sending buttons flying everywhere.

Their sexual tension had been building all day and she needed it released- they both did. The “why’s” and “how’s” of what their relationship was dissolved, and Amelia gave herself over to her desires.

She dragged Dominic’s shirt down his muscled shoulders and he helped her rip the rest of it off him before his hands came back to her body. His fingers clawed at the buttons of her high-collared blouse, and the moment he was able to undo the ones down to the hollow of her throat, he gripped the loosened edges and ripped.

The sound of her dress being torn in two made Amelia whimper with need; and she could barely stand staying still long enough to let him finish the work. The moment she was able to step away from it they flew to another again, their kisses hard and equally possessive as their hands ran rampantly over one another.

“You have vexed me all day, you know that?” Dominic voice quaked with need as he added her corset to the growing pile of ruined clothes.

“You loved it,” she whispered wickedly against his lips as her fingernails bit into his pectoral muscles.

“Damn you but I did, you wicked woman,” he rasped.

He then seized her by the throat with a quickness that only furthered her arousal, and he forced her stand away from him. Dominic’s silver eyes were bright as they traveled down slowly down her naked form. She should have been ashamed, she realized then. Perhaps even shy over being seen like this by a man for the first time…but she didn’t.

There was too much approval, too much need glittering in Dominic’s eyes to feel any shame at all. As he examined her she took the opportunity to examine him, too. Though she’d never admit it she’d spent a night or two imagining what her husband would like naked- and her mind had not done him justice.

His muscles were thicker and more well-defined than her imagination had conjured. Ropes of solid strength wrapped perfectly around his torso and arms; covered only by a spread of black, curly hair that almost formed an upside down triangle that started at his broad chest and ended at his navel.

Her mouth watered as she thought of what it would taste like to run her tongue over every part of him; even down to what his trousers left covered.

“You like what you see?” Dominic asked.

Despite the eagerness of the moment, Amelia blushed at the blunt question as she raised her eyes to his. She met a look of pure desire that was very obviously barely contained. She licked her lips, her grip on his wrist pulsing a little.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Do you like what you see?”

In response Dominic’s grip loosened only slightly around her throat before he pulled her to him again; claiming her lips once more.

“You are so bloody beautiful it makes my entire body ache,” he groaned between kisses.

Amelia’s restraint ceased completely as she heard his words, and as he picked her up to lay her down on the floor, she didn’t even think to stop him. Spread out below him like a feast, Dominic’s mouth traveled from her lips to her neck, his teeth and tongue hungrily tasting every inch of her. Pleasure deep and intense had her whimpering, shivering and pressing him into her when he bit a particular part of her neck; but she shouted out oh! and arched her back against the floor when made it to her breasts.

She marveled at how different the sensations could be; wanting more of both.

“Dominic,” she breathed, her fingers tight in his hair.

He let out a deep growl of pleasure before he nipped at her breast.

“Again,” he commanded, his voice low and raspy.

She moaned before she could repeat herself, and was punished by a harsh brushing of his teeth to her nipple.

“Dominic!” She moaned, arching herself into his mouth.

A sound of pure, masculine pleasure erupted from Dominic’s chest as she spoke his name louder, and he continued his path down her waist. His tongue dipped into her navel, making her shiver and writhe like an animal in heat, and her legs spread wider of their own volition.

A deep chuckle rumbled from his throat as he leaned up on his elbows and caressed his fingertips over the contours of her left hip and down between her legs.

“Oh, little wife,” he groaned, his fingers brushing sensually over her petals, “You’re already drenched for me. Tell me. Did you think of me while you were in Ellsworth?”

Amelia bit her lip, her brows tensing as she left the briefly left felt the intoxication of their arousal leave her. She couldn’t admit that she had thought of him every moment, couldn’t-

His fingertips glided over her petals, up to her swollen bud, and lightly pinched the delicate bundle of nerves.

“I’m waiting.”

“Yes,” she gasped, tears springing to her eyes as pleasure flooded through. “Yes, alright? I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop thinking about what you did to me in the boxing room.”

Dominic chuckled, the sound downright devilish as he lowered himself to her mons.

“Such a needy little wife,” he teased.

She was ready to stay stop then, to pull him by the hair from between her legs- but then his tongue descended upon her at the exact moment a single one of his fingers thrust into her heated, soaking core.

All thought ceased as pleasure burst through her, and she let out a deep moan of gratitude as all of her pent up need finally found an outlet. His attention made her mind her go blessedly blank; erasing the fears of her Father, of the ton. All of it just…vanished. And she was nothing but a meal for her husband to devour.

His fingers and tongue coaxed and pleasured in rhythmic time. Dominic was an expert lover. She’d never thought otherwise. Didn’t even have to listen to the whispers of the ton to know that. The way he carried himself; the way he handled everyone around him so elegantly and with precision- it was obvious.

Her orgasm rushed forth with intensity and a swiftness, sending stars shooting behind her eyes as she trembled and moaned. Dominic rose from between her legs with an assured smirk and she immediately bristled inside. He might be more experienced, but she had certainly read more books, and some of them had been written like a road map to a man’s pleasure. Now was the perfect time to put her knowledge to the test.

She waited until he glided his body up hers, unable to withhold the shiver of pleasure she felt as he purposely dragged his muscled torso up hers, and clenched her legs tight around his waist. Mustering all of her courage, she rolled.

Dominic’s eyes sparkled with alarm as she suddenly took seat atop him.

“What are you doing?” He rasped, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Simply returning the favor, husband,” she purred, then dipped her mouth to his.

Dominic’s jaw was tight and his teeth were clamped as she kissed him; bristling with distrust. But in less than a second his body was softening, and the forceful, stilling grip he had on her hips became coaxing; urging her to do as she pleased.

She nearly lost herself all over again when she heard his deep, utterly masculine moan as she pressed her kisses from his lips to his throat; finding a particular sensitive spot near his collar bone. When she scraped her teeth there a second time, his entire body tensed as if he’d been hit by lightning, and a deep sense of both accomplishment and pleasure filled her.

Amelia continued her exploration, letting Dominic’s heady moans and gasps guide her toward his most sensitive places until she reached his thick, hardened root. He was straining so hard against his trousers that she felt a bout of sympathy as she untied his stays with trembling fingertips.

His need, she realized as she sprang him free, was just as intense as hers.

“Amelia,” he growled as she flicked her tongue over his deep purple mushroomed tip- and God did she love the tortured way he said it.

“Again,” she whispered, her tone as luring and sweet as a siren. Not at all demanding like he had been. Yet he obeyed her all the same.

This time her name was whispered out like a prayer as his hands fisted into her curls and trembled like two small earthquakes. He didn’t shove her down atop him; didn't demand a thing. If anything, it seemed like he was holding on to her to restrain himself.

Which, in turn, only made her want to continue even more. Dominic writhed and hissed as she took her time with her lips and tongue; exploring his hardened length with a wicked yet innocent curiosity. When she finally decided to slide her mouth down upon him, a low, guttural, almost begging sound tore from Dominic’s throat.

She gagged on his length; unable to take him all at the same time. The edges of her mouth burned as she tried to stretch her lips fully around him; and she felt another sluice of juices gush between her thighs as she thought of how it would feel if he were plunging into her sex and taking her purity. It would be incredibly painful, she imagined- and yet undeniably wonderful at the same time.

Amelia clenched her thighs together as if the motion could stop her from feeling so much gathering need, and focused on Dominic’s cock in her mouth. Every deep, primal sound only spurred her to explore him more, and the words she’d once memorized from her books vanished as her body became in tune with Dominic’s singular needs.

Right before his release she felt his entire body tense with such rigidity that she wondered if he might shatter. Then with a deep moan that nearly made her orgasm again, he exploded into her mouth. His fingers clenched tightly in her hair, locking her into place as jet after jet of his seed released into the back of her throat. Almost immediately after she finished his rigid formed melted into the floor, and with a breathy moan of ecstasy, his taut fingers released into a caress; stroking over her scalp in an almost loving gesture.

When she released him his trembling hands moved to her arms, and he pulled her up his body and cradled her tightly to his chest; whispering words of praise as his breaths slowly returned to normal. Tears formed in her eyes as he did so, as if something within her rejected the tenderness of the moment.

“Beautiful, wicked woman,” he murmured, stroking her hair.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the slowing beat of his heart.

“The things you make me feel…sensations I’ve never experienced,” he whispered on.

She laughed, half-happy and half-heartbroken. At least that she could relate to. Never had a man made her feel this way. Not even Roland before he had attempted his assault.

Amelia allowed herself to revel in the pleasure of his warm embrace for a moment, but when she felt her heart began to throb, she pulled away; trembling with renewed need as she searched for her ruined clothes.

“Amelia?” Concern laced through Dominic’s deep, sated tone, sending another deep pulse through her heart, and she bit her lip as she worked to pull her torn dress around her. She couldn’t look at him.

This entire time she knew they’d been battling for dominance in their unique relationship, and at times it was fun- but now she was feeling something else. Something she knew would not be returned.

“Are we done?” She asked.

Her fingers raced under her eyes, swiping betraying tears away from her cheeks. Behind her Dominic sat up and though she didn’t look, she could feel his silver eyes boring into her as he laced up his trousers.

“What do you mean are we done?” He demanded.

“I mean I’m tired,” she replied. “Can I go?”

She tried to say it as carefree as possible, but her voice trembled at the very end; betraying her.

Suddenly she felt his hand wrap around her arm and whirled her around. His other hand came to her chin and before she could stop it, he was forcing her to look directly up into his eyes. More tears threatened to spill from her own as she caught his stark worry shining through as he stared down at her; his handsome face set into a look of pure concern.

“Amelia, what’s wrong?” He demanded, his tone harsh. “Was I too rough?”

The way the pad of his thumb reached up to stroke another one of her tears away was too much, and she pulled her chin out of his grasp and took a step back.

“Stop,” she said.

“Stop, what?” He asked, frustration growing in his tone.

“Stop acting like you care!” She burst out. “Our relationship is just a bargain, remember? Stop acting like you genuinely want anything to do with me when I know you don’t!”

Dominic’s narrowed eyes grew wide.

“I…” He didn’t finish his sentence. Perhaps he couldn’t.

He’d left her. Saved her only to abandon her for nearly an entire year, and then showed back up just give her a string of demands that would save their reputation. There was no care. Just duty that they both had to protect the Astorfield name.

She turned away from again, needing to get out of the armory and somewhere far away from him because her body still hummed with the need for his touch.

“Don’t worry,” she rasped, heading toward the door. “I know we have an act to put on. I will perform better this time around. I am much more determined to get the show over with so I assure you, you won’t have to rescue me again.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Dominic’s gruff tone made her stop and flinch just as her hand touched the door.

“Tomorrow evening we have a ball at the Crawfords and a garden party on Friday. Saturday we are to be at another one of Tristan’s dinner parties. I am having a dress made for the occasion. You will wear it.”

There was no empathy in his tone, no pleading for her to obey. Just a stiff demand. She nodded, her throat too pained and tight to say anything, and left the room.