Page 9 of A Duke for Hire (The Devil’s Masquerade #1)

CHAPTER NINE

“ S eraphina, what is this?” Hugo asked, “What is wrong?”

For a moment she stood frozen, looking in absolute shock at the Duke and her house’s butler staring at her in great concern.

How? She thought, ignoring the relief she felt at seeing him. How was he here?

You should not be here,” she muttered, still trying to decide if he actually was or if her imagination was becoming cruel.

Hugo ignored her, giving her a bemused look, and dismissed the butler as he pulled out a kerchief and walked toward her.

For a moment Seraphina felt the urge to go to him, to let her body rest against his, and sob out the rest of her tears. But then she realized that the man her mother had forbid her from was in her home. Alone with her. And that if anyone knew, all hell would surely break loose.

“No, no, you cannot be here,” Seraphina said, nearly stumbling to get away from him.

“Well it is good that I am,” Hugo shot back, giving her a hard look as he snatched her wrist and pulled her close, “Someone needs to be taking care of you. Where is your mother? Why are you alone when you are feeling like this?”

With surprising tenderness, he dabbed his kerchief under her eyes, taking away the fallen tears. He was so gentle Seraphina felt fresh tears attempt to fall, and she pressed her lips tightly together in an effort to stop them.

“That is not your business,” she snapped, feeling her anger at him renew as she wrenched herself away.

Suddenly she hated him for being so tender.

“You have to stop this, Your Grace. You have to stop showing up everywhere that I am, especially in my home!”

“Why do you keep running from me?” He demanded, his handsome face twisting into a frown.

“Why do you keep running toward me?” She shot back. “I already told you no. My mother has told you no. What more do you need to hear?”

“I come to you because it is not your fear of me that has you hesitant, it is the gossip of the ton. The same gossip that forced you to perform a play in order to gain suitors,” Hugo replied with equal vehemence.

“You cannot marry me just because I am not afraid of you,” she argued. “Surely I am not the only one. There is another woman out there who would give you less trouble in your pursuit of her.”

“Not like you,” he countered, shaking his head. “No one is like you.”

Seraphina’s anger suddenly flared into hatred. For his kindness toward her. For the way her body responded to his presence. For the way it all tore at her mind and soul.

“Stop talking as if you know me,” she snapped, “You do not know me!”

“And your other prospects do?” Hugo shot back.

“Don’t be rude!” She shouted.

“Do they?” He snarled.

“They do not have to if they are suitable for marriage, which you are not. I need someone to save my reputation, not make it worse.” Even as she said it Seraphina felt a heavy wave of guilt crash down on her, but she had to get him to leave.

Hugo stepped forward, clearly untroubled by her words, and grabbed her round the waist. More self-hatred poured through her as she felt her body instantly react; the physical attraction between them becoming embarrassingly apparent.

“Let me go, and leave immediately,” she warned, fresh tears pricking at her eyes as she stared at up at him.

Hugo stared back, his gaze cutting into her like shards of glass.

“I will not leave you like this,” he stated.

“Why? Why do you care?”

Then, as if neither her mind nor body could stand to wait for an answer, she pushed away and slapped him hard across the face.

Though sharp, Seraphina’s slap was like the flutter of butterfly wings across his cheek compared to the blows Hugo’s father delivered. Instead of letting her go, his hands tightened around her waist, and he pulled her in until her chest was pressed against his.

“You think a slap to my face is going to chase me away?” He demanded of her. “I have had far worse and not even blinked an eye.”

Seraphina’s rage seemed to dim just a little at his words, and she blinked in startled realization.

“What?” She whispered.

“It does not matter,” he replied quickly, refusing to delve into it. “What matters is that you want me and I want you.”

“But why?” She demanded, seemingly finding her rage again. “And do not dare say that you find me fascinating again.”

Hugo stilled, refusing to say what he felt. That he was drawn to the way she survived her surroundings. That he was fascinated by how she’d turned out so different from the other women of the ton, even if she was good at pretending that she was not. That the carnal beast inside him felt that it had somehow met its match in this seemingly innocent lady.

No. He would not talk about his feelings. To her, or anyone.

“I am not saying it make sense,” he bit out, pinning her with an intense stare “But there is something between us, even if it drives us both insane.”

Seraphina stared back at him with equal grit, but she said nothing.

“You want to know what else?” He asked, and Seraphina nodded.

Unable to help himself, Hugo’s hands traveled from her hips to her back, where he felt the rigidness of her spine.

“What are you doing?” She whispered.

“Your body,” he murmured, caressing a massaging hand up her spine, “It is always so tense.”

“Because you will not let me go,” she insisted.

“No,” he answered quickly, already feeling some of her tension fading under his touch, “I see it always. I saw it the day we met. The day I found you with Lord Fellon at the gallery before I approached. You hold yourself rigid, as if you cannot relax, no matter where you are or who you are with.”

“Except for me,” he rasped, his voice growing thick as he felt his arousal begin to bloom. “You sink into me, Seraphina, and that feeling is…addicting.”

“I think of our kiss in the gallery,” he went on, “Often. Of how your body relaxed into mine. How you melted into my arms and how it satisfied a craving I did not even realize I had. And I want it again.”

“Your Grace, you must stop, please,” Seraphina whispered, beginning to tremble under his touch. “You cannot talk to me like this.”

“Because you do not want it?” He asked, challenging her, “Or because you have the same craving I do?”

The moment Hugo asked, he also let her go. And though it was not a push by any means, Seraphina felt as if she had been expelled away from the warmth and light and directly into the cold and darkness. Her body shook in retaliation, and she felt herself sway as Hugo finally took several steps back.

Immediately she felt her body grow painfully rigid again, and in silent wonder she realized what he had said was true. She was tense without his touch, and only relaxed once she was encompassed by it. How long had she lived that way?

“What did you do to me?” She breathed, placing a trembling hand on her stomach as she looked up at him from beneath her brow.

“I stopped it,” he replied quietly.

“Stopped what?” she asked, agitated.

“The need to feel perfect.”

His gaze, gentle yet domineering, locked on hers, and he took a slow step toward her.

“I know what you feel because I have gone through it,” he spoke, his deep voice lulling her, “Your body knows. It understands that you do not have to be perfect, not with me. It can relax. It can breathe. Because I see you for what you are and there is no need to pretend otherwise.”

Hugo took another step forward and this time, Seraphina found her moving toward him, and not away. Almost as if a thread had tied them together, and was pulling them back toward one another.

“You feel something for me, Seraphina,” he went on as he took another step, “It might not be love but it is something. Stop pretending that you don’t.”

“And what is it that you think I feel for you?” she breathed, taking another small step toward him without realizing it.

Closing the space between them, Hugo brought his hand up to her cheek, the caress of his fingertips making her instantly dizzy and short of breath.

“I think your body craves me,” he rasped, letting his lip just barely graze across hers.

Feeling her resolve weaken, Seraphina whimpered, and looked up imploringly into his deep green eyes.

“And you?” She asked, reaching a tentative hand toward his chest. “Do you crave me?”

Hugo’s smile spread slowly, handsomely over his face as he let out a deep chuckle.

“You have no idea,” he replied, his hand trailing down to wrap around her throat, “But I would love to show you.”

Seraphina felt her knees grow weak and her entire body grow warm as he brushed the softest kiss across her lips.

“Let me show you?”

He was not begging, she realized, though his tone was as soft as his kiss. No, he was putting the decision in her hands.

Suddenly Seraphina realized she had a choice. She knew she would not be marrying him. Even if the thought grew more appealing by the day, her parents still would not allow it. But she was about to be married to someone else. Whoever it was, he could not make her feel as Hugo did in this moment. This, she realized, was perhaps her only chance to feel such passion.

Head spinning with desire, body quivering with a newfound need, Seraphina looked into Hugo’s eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered, letting her body melt into his, “Show me.”

A heady groan slipped from Hugo’s lips as he felt Seraphina let go of her societal expectations and placed her submission into his hands. He tampered down his own need, knowing he needed to take things slow, and cradled her to his chest as he finally kissed her fully.

A sliver of pain shot through his heart as he briefly tasted the salt of her tears upon his lips. He did not know for sure if he was the reason she had shed them but it weighed heavy on him that they had fallen at all. In a way, he knew that she was right. That their chances of being married were practically nonexistent…and yet, he could not give up.

He did not love her. He doubted he could ever love anyone, even Leah. But he knew with his entire body that he wanted her.

A soft gasp slipped from Seraphina’s lips as he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue part the pillowy borders of her mouth. Another rush of arousal hit him as he drew in her taste. He felt Seraphina tremble in his arms as he laid his possessive claim, and stars burst before his eyes as her arms came up around his neck to wind tightly there.

He pressed her closer to him, wanting no space between them, and with ease, lifted her. She gasped his name softly as her feet disappeared from under her, and with great tenderness, he laid her among the pillows of the chaise. Slowly, she began to kiss him back, her tentative workings growing bolder and more skilled as he pressed his weight down upon her, and soon, he felt her fingertips slide into his thick, black hair.

Pleasure fluttered through him as he felt the gentle scraping of her nails against his skull, and in that moment, the world fell away. He kissed her lips, her cheek, then down to the graceful line of her jaw. He moaned in approval as she tilted her head backward, awarding more access, and for the briefest of moments he let himself lose control and sink his teeth into her neck. Seraphina gasped and shivered beneath him at the small claim, and though he felt the urge to mark her, he pulled away just before it was too much.

The gown she wore was modest, a light blue silk that cut in an even horizontal line just above her cleavage. Even still, he was able to wrest the tight fabric and corset just enough to release her breasts, and he quickly enveloped her small, taut, pink nipple with his mouth. She moaned again, clutching at his hair even tighter, and though he knew he should, Hugo found himself unable to stop.

Stars burst behind Seraphina’s eyes as she felt Hugo’s hot, wet mouth at her breast, and she blushed as she arched her back and pressed more of herself into his mouth. She had thought his kiss dizzying but this was making her entire body feel as if it were spinning somewhere out in the universe.

She should stop him. She knew she should. This was too far and though her mother was not home, the servants were. They could walk in at any time.

Instead, though, she found herself pressing her lips together to stop the moan in her throat, and gave her control over to him. Her entire being felt as if it were transforming into warm liquid as Hugo continued, and she didn’t want to return to the cold again.

On his kisses went, from first her left breast then her right, then down the front of her dress. It was her favorite day gown, and yet in the moment she wanted nothing more than for it to be torn into shreds and away from her body by Hugo’s hands.

His hands.

So soft yet rough as they reached beneath her skirts to caress and grasp her thighs and backside. They hypnotized her. Fire licked wherever his fingertips met her flesh, sending delicious flicks of desire through every nerve ending sparking inside of her.

Care, any sort, drifted away from her mind entirely as Hugo shoved her skirts up to her waist and his head dipped down. His lips began to trail up her inner thighs and she needed no more instruction than that to part her legs wider for him, her body seemed to understand exactly what she- and he desired.

“Hugo,” she breathed, his first name spilling from her lips for the first time as his tongue swirled over her pulsing mons.

A growl poured from Hugo’s throat as his eyes shot up to hers, brimming with fiery light.

“Say it again,” he commanded.

“Hugo,” she obeyed blindly, feeling herself give into him.

A hungry smile formed on his lips, and as he kept his eyes locked on hers, he lowered his head again, and grazed the tip of his tongue over the taut, sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. Pleasure shot through her veins, more powerful than before, and her lashes fluttered as she arched herself once more toward his mouth.

On and on his tongue continued, coating her in pleasure until her relaxed body slowly began to pull taut again. This time, though, it was not stress, and it did not shoot down her spine like a rigid spear. Instead it was as if tiny, invisible threads had been cast from her womb and were slowly drawing her tendons tight, making her tremble. A great gathering of sorts began to pull her arms and legs back toward her body, drawing her tight like corset strings.

Then, when she thought she could not take anymore and was a breath away from begging Hugo to stop- they snapped. Every string snapped at once as a great wave of relief and pleasure coursed through her body.

Hugo lapped greedily, wanting the taste of her climax on his tongue more than he wanted air to breathe. Seraphina had submitted to him so readily that he was reveling in the beauty of it. She wanted him, there was no doubt about it. The truth was in the way she said his name. The way her body still convulsed and trembled from the pleasure he’d given her

In his trousers, his hardened manhood pressed uncomfortably against the restraining fabric. He wanted so badly to pull himself free and find his own pleasure, but something held him back.

“I was wrong,” he murmured, slowly rising up from between her legs.

Seraphina’s eyes, still blurry with pleasure, looked at him in silent questioning as he readjusted her skirts.

“It seems you don’t have to act perfect,” he explained. “You truly are.”

“Your Grace, I-”

“I quite prefer it when you call me Hugo, actually,” he said before she could say more. “You should get used to saying it anyway. When we are married, there will be no use for formalities between us.”

Seraphina sat up then, and under his touch he could already feel that rigidness once more spread through her body.

“Hugo, I still cannot marry you.”

Hugo smirked, then wiped his thumb along his bottom lip. He flicked his eyes up to hers as he drew the finger into his mouth, and pleasure surged through him as he watched her blush a deep red.

“You keep saying that,” he whispered, drawing her close with his other hand.

A smile itched at his lips as he hovered his mouth close to hers. He felt her breath quicken, sending soft huffs of warm air over his lips in an innocent yet teasing fashion.

“But I wonder if you truly mean it?”

Seraphina’s long lashes fluttered as her brow creased, looking as if she was trying to draw strength to pull away from him.

“I…I…”

“You…you,” he rasped, laying the softest of kisses upon her lips, making her whimper, “Will be mine.”