Page 12 of Dominating the Duke

"What am I going to do with you, Eleanor Goodrum?" Percy murmured just before claiming her mouth with his and lowering her body to the carriage seat.

His hands roved across her carriage dress only to stop. She could hear and feel his deep intake of breath. She'd made her ravishment mind-numbingly simple for him. He'd encountered the long row of buttons which should have held her body virtuously out of reach. However, she'd buttoned only three or four of the many fastenings, and there was nothing but creamy skin peeking out between the few sentinels guarding her virtue. She chortled aloud when he pulled the few buttons loose only to discover nothing but El's willing body beneath.

"God, woman--do you never wear stays?" was all he managed to get out between groans before he pulled one of her visibly eager breasts into his mouth for a rough suckle. Her groans mixed with his, and they thumped unceremoniously to the floor of the carriage.

It was El's turn to rip from him the tattered trousers he'd borrowed from his groom. The well-worn, thin muslin shirt followed in short order, baring his eager cock for her pleasure.

She stopped and ran one fingernail gently down the side of the object of her desire. "What an insistent fellow," she said, with a sultry smile. "I wonder what he's looking for?"

Percy grabbed her hand and flipped her beneath him in one frantic move. He claimed her lips and after a kiss so hard and long, she pushed at his chest to let her breathe. "You act as though you think we don't have enough time, and we're in danger of discovery by your high-in-the-instep friends in the ton." She huffed out a long sigh.

Percy was still above her, his cock pulsing steadily against her mound near the entrance to her quim. "Yes, I have much more to lose than you do, Eleanor, but I can't stop. I've wanted to protect you and claim you as my own ever since the night all those years ago you told me about your father's abuse." He moved just enough down toward the nub of her pleasure to elicit another moan from her. "And, yes, we've lost years we'll never get back, but we have these few moments now, and by God, I'm not going to watch you sail away from me again."

She stiffened.He'd never forgotten her either. "I told you we're merely driving around and around," she assured him in a soothing tone. "My coach is always heavily guarded, and the denizens of this neighborhood are used to seeing my carriage roam these streets." She rubbed one of Percy's bare nipples in a lazy circle with the pad of her thumb. "I'm not going anywhere this time. We have all the time in the world and all the protection we need."

* * *

Percy hadn't neededanything with this much intensity since all those years ago when he'd stood on the quay in Bristol with his father and watched Eleanor's ship catch the outgoing tide on an evening breeze. He'd told himself then that someday...someday they'd both be of age; Eleanor could safely return to Combe Down, and he'd stand up to his father, and hers, and make them see Eleanor belonged by his side, as his wife.

But on that day Perseus Whitcombe was but fourteen and the son of a minor baron. Eleanor was barely thirteen and the abused daughter of an innkeeper. Once the sight of the billowing sails of her ship vanished into the far western horizon, his father, as if reading Percy's thoughts, put his arm around the boy's shoulders and said, "She's gone, son, gone to a better life than she could ever have here."

A chamber deep within Percy's heart had slammed shut that day with such a reverberation, he could almost feel his body shake from the finality of the closing. He hadn't opened that door since that fateful day.

Now, the taste of her, the scent of her, the touch of his hands on her skin flooded his senses. He was almost grateful he hadn't known then the woman she'd one day become. He might have abandoned all his responsibilities in England to search the oceans for Eleanor Goodrum. Why hadn't he known the first time they met at Goodrum's? He suspected a part of him had known, but another Percy, the one who'd been locked in that chamber for years, was afraid to admit the dream he'd carried all those years had returned, a flesh and blood woman to be reckoned with.

His cock was tired of reminiscences and began edging closer to the hot wetness at the core of Eleanor. The floor of a moving carriage was not exactly the place he'd pictured claiming her for his own, but...needs must. She opened her eyes then and smiled, urgently pulling at his hips, scratching him with her nails, and urging him on.

When she raised her knees and wrapped her legs around him, he nearly lost control. But when he plunged into her heat and began to move, it was as if they'd never been apart. There was a rhythm to their joining that felt as if they'd been together for eternity.

He'd had many women over the years and a few discreet mistresses, but it was Eleanor whose face he'd seen every time he'd slaked his needs, even when he was alone in the vast ducal bed at Hawthorne Park.

Her breathing quickened and she gave out a sharp cry, which brought Percy to a crest of pleasure that he followed over the edge. He pumped into her body feverishly until he exploded into a heated surrender, spending within her. His breathing finally returned to normal after he feared for a moment he'd die in a mixture of ecstasy and apoplexy from sexual exertion, the likes of which he hadn't undergone, even at the expert hands of courtesans he'd encountered in his youth.

Even though they both lay sated and bouncing through the rough streets of Whitechapel on the carriage floor, neither one was in any rush to withdraw. When El suddenly rolled to her side, taking him with her, he wondered what the hell she was up to. She crawled down to his cock and began sensuous laving with her tongue. Although Percy felt as though he could barely walk at that point, his cock had other ideas. When El rolled him to his back and straddled him, his cock enthusiastically obliged. A half hour later, both of them were sweat slickened, and the inside of her elegant carriage reeked with the smell of sex. He idly wondered if she'd have to rip out and replace the interior to expunge the fragrance of out-of-control rutting.

Eleanor suddenly raised herself back onto the seat and covered her rosy breasts and other physical delights with her devilish clever button-front scarlet wool carriage dress. He remained on the floor, gamely trying to regain his strength for whatever his auburn-haired Amazon jailer had in store for him next.

Once she'd straightened herself and had pulled a silver-backed hairbrush from a leather traveling case, she tossed a clean pair of trousers and a shirt toward him. Obviously, she clothed her grooms in much better style than he did. And then his ears burned with embarrassment. He suddenly realized she'd known beforehand she was going to ravish him. And so did her guards and coachmen.

* * *

El grimacedat the horrified look that had replaced the mien of a well-satisfied man on Percy's face. Served him right. Let him stew in his own juices. And speaking of his juices, she'd cleaned up as best she could with a linen cloth which she'd shared with her proud lover. When she'd raised herself up to the seat to pull on her dress, more of the love they'd made trickled down the insides of her thighs. Her mouth involuntarily curved in a cat-like smile that would have put her pet puss Phoenix to shame.

Rejecting the idea of stockings, she pulled on a pair of thigh-high boots to ready her for the next stop she'd have to make after dropping off Percy near his Berkley Square townhouse.

She knocked on the roof and instructed her coachman they'd be driving on to Lincoln's Inn. She needed to confer with Stephen Forsythe on the legality of a plan she had to permanently prohibit Percy from snooping into her affairs.

She had no illusions about the afternoon they'd whiled away making heated, passionate love. She knew he wouldn't stop sneaking about her estates. El knew better than most how men could separate their love lives from their public lives. She'd spent years perfecting the same attitude.

Percy had hurriedly dressed and joined her on the seat. "I must apologize, Eleanor," he began.

She interrupted him. "Why?"

"For...for spending inside you...if there's a child..."

"There won't be a child," she assured him brusquely, and opened the carriage door when they lurched to a stop at the entrance to Berkley Square.

When he turned to argue, she shoved him out with a booted foot, and he landed on his arse in a steaming pile of horse manure.