Page 16 of The Duke’s Cursed Virgin (Cursed Brides #3)

Chapter Fifteen

“ S o good. You feel so good, Sophia,” the Duke murmured against her breasts.

The cursed lady did not feel so cursed anymore. She felt worshipped .

While his fingers continued their delicious assault, building something that crumbled earlier, hers were in his hair.

She was shocked by how easy it was to rid herself of her scruples, as she pressed his face to her breasts so that he could continue pleasuring her.

“I-I didn’t know men did this to women,” she stammered.

He chuckled against her breasts, gratifying her with his tongue.

“Yes, men do this to women, especially if someone tastes as good as you do, pet,” he said, and she could almost feel his smile against her breasts.

Soon, they were quiet again except for their heavy breathing as he continued teasing her with her release, rubbing her nub while plunging those rough fingers inside of her and feasting on her breasts.

The sensations became more intense, the sense of touch becoming like colors exploding beneath her eyelids. She rode his fingers hard, not even noticing that his mouth had finally released her nipple as he panted hard as if he was feeling the pleasure he was giving her.

Instinct told her to place her hand on his hard manhood. It felt like steel. She rubbed it gleefully until her body started convulsing, her hips moving of their own accord.

She had gone blind.

No. It was the pleasure.

“You feel so damn good,” Theo praised.

He rose to his feet, his erection still massive. Sophia felt too helpless to know what to offer him. She didn’t know what to do. All her movements were reactions. Pure instinct.

She looked at him, expecting smug satisfaction. However, she found something else. Reverence? Was it?

Something caught in her throat as the last few minutes came crashing down on her. Passion. Lust. Loss of control.

She clapped her hand over her mouth when she realized what happened.

“You need to leave,” she whispered weakly. “Your Grace.”

The Duke’s face hardened. His eyes were narrowed and fixed on her.

“You don’t sound like you managed to convince yourself, Lady Sophia,” he said.

Her throat tightened when he reverted to formalities, even though she started it. She glared at him, even though she was mad at herself.

“You must return to the musicale. Lord Holton has been boasting about your help. Someone will notice if you’re not there,” she said.

He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. Then, he settled for tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

“Are you truly concerned for my well-being? Or are you concerned for yours?”

She was flustered. Her cheeks were warm from embarrassment. She was ashamed that he was right. She was more concerned for her reputation. After all, there were some whispers about the Duke.

He did not become the Wolf Duke overnight. Years of reputation for his proclivities made him who he was.

“You may be accustomed to this, Your Grace, but I am not,” she said.

He gaped at her as if he could not believe she just said that. Then, he stepped away, exhaling.

“Very well.”

He smiled slightly. She thought that she saw some amusement, but she could be wrong. There was something else there. A flicker. Then, it was gone.

He quickly turned around and made his way to the door. Then, he turned back to look at her again. A frown was etched on his handsome face.

“This isn’t over, Sophia. You know that I’ll have you again. And you will let me.”

A soft click indicated that he had unlocked the door.

The next click indicated that it was closed again.

Sophia should have been relieved, but she felt like crying. She was so confused. She was disappointed that he left, and angry that he was so presumptuous.

The wisest thing was to keep away from the Duke of Wolvesley.

Yet, the memories of what they did tonight would linger in her mind—she just knew it. She collapsed against the desk, her heart still racing in her chest. She could still feel him inside her, even as she rearranged her dress to look decent. Under the intricate mapping of lace, satin, and small gemstones, her body still throbbed from his touch and kisses.

Everything that happened was a mistake.

And yet she had never felt more alive.

The night had gone his way and it hadn’t.

Theo slowed his breathing and smoothed his waistcoat—an easy feat compared to composing himself before stepping back into the parlor.

Back into reality.

Nothing much had changed yet. People were still intent on making conversation and drinking wine. Nobody had tired of the event yet, and Lord Holton looked mighty pleased. Men surrounded him, most in various states of boredom. This time, they knew they must take whatever their host gave as their wives or daughters probably sang his praises.

Theo was surprised to hear the strains of a violin coming from the parlor.

A man a few years younger than him played it with a lot of passion, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the room. He schooled his features into indifference.

It was hard when Sophia’s scent and sounds still lingered. He should not think of her, especially in a public setting. Things could get awkward—and hard.

The Duke had barely made it to the center of the room when an eager lord approached him. Lord Pembroke was about his age, but the Baron had always seemed older because of his hunch and his tendency to not mind his own business.

“Your Grace!” Pembroke called. His voice was too loud for Theo, who was trying not to draw attention.

“Yes?” he asked, barely disguising his annoyance.

“It’s just that I have not seen you for some time. I expected that you would be by Lord Holton’s side. You were gone for so long that it made me wonder if you were doing something clandestine,” Pembroke huffed.

“Lord Pembroke,” Theo greeted as politely as possible, even as he felt his patience thinning. “I have some matters to attend to.”

“Oh, matters . How mysterious, Your Grace.”

“Musicales and property. Nothing more.”

“Oh.”

While Pembroke didn’t appear to be wholly convinced, he backed away a little.

“And it’s urgent?” he asked, raising an eyebrow while he swirled the contents of his glass.

“Rather urgent, of course,” Philip drawled, coming to the rescue. Theo braced himself for comments about damsels in distress. His friend had not failed to lighten his mood a little. “Tedious but dreadfully important, I may say. Something only the Duke of Wolvesley can attend to.”

“Huh? But I thought it was about property and musicales,” Pembroke murmured, frowning.

“That’s just part of the conversation, Lord Pembroke,” Philip explained. “But think of those topics—important in themselves—and discuss them with someone important, like a foreign diplomat.”

“A foreign diplomat! Is there a way you can introduce me to him, Your Grace?” Pembroke asked.

This time, it looked like the Baron believed everything that Philip said. However, it had caught Theo’s attention and interest that he wanted more.

“Another time, perhaps,” Theo said, trying to remain pleasant.

“That was close,” Philip commented. “Of all the people to notice that you were gone, it had to be Lord Pembroke.”

“He always sticks his nose in other people’s business,” Theo grumbled.

“For good reason, my friend. The man has no marriage prospects, except the young ladies their mamas had been trying to force upon him.”

“No, it is the other way around, Philip. The ladies are being forced to accept the Baron as a marriage prospect,” Theo said dully.

He was never one to insult others, but Pembroke had gotten on his nerves and too close to his secret.

The two quickly walked away before Pembroke could pry into Theo’s affairs further.

“It seems that somebody special has taken up much of your time,” Philip teased.

“You may be accustomed to this, Your Grace, but I am not.”

But Theo wasn’t. He didn’t like people prying into his private life. He had done his best to protect the women who had been in his bed. He didn’t like people talking about him either. He was not like other men who enjoyed gossiping about their prowess with women.

The music had shifted to something lively, but he was still jittery from his tryst with Sophia. He should not care so much about how she saw him. All he wanted was for his promise to be fulfilled—that he would get to taste her again.

“There is nothing to tell, Philip. Perhaps you have some stories about your earlier diversions?”

“As you just said, it was merely a diversion. In your case, however, I could tell it was far too serious than you would let yourself admit,” Philip remarked before finishing every drop of his brandy and setting the glass down on a servant’s tray.

“You are enjoying this,” Theo observed.

He should not even be surprised. Philip was his closest friend. They knew each other inside and out, and that was why he could never hide Sophia from him. Not really.

“Of course. I enjoyed outwitting embarrassingly nosy men like Pembroke. However, that does not mean that I would be quiet and less than my inquisitive self.”

“Fair enough.”

“Where were you, anyway? I saw the panic in your eyes when Pembroke approached and bombarded you with inappropriate questions,” Philip asked. “Should I ask? Do we have to meet a foreign diplomat about some unsavory matters?”

“No. It has nothing to do with foreign diplomats. Or musicales. Or matters of property,” Theo said, frustrated.

He combed his fingers through his hair, remembering how Sophia’s fingers were pulling at the strands earlier. He didn’t care about the shooting pain. All he could focus on was the pleasure of her turgid nipple on his tongue.

Oh, she was so sweet.

“Ah. I think I know what kind of urgent matter it was. I suspected it, but I was not completely certain. I am often a victim of such urgent matters,” Philip said playfully.

“A victim? You?” Theo scoffed.

“At first, I thought you were merely enduring Holton’s musicale like many of us, poor dear souls. Then, I remembered that you were one of the people who planned this whole thing. She was always meant to be here, wasn’t she? So, you went and sought your own entertainment, after all.”

Theo glared at his friend, who merely gave him a mock salute with what could be his second or tenth glass for the night.

“She is not mere entertainment, Longford,” he corrected his friend angrily.

“Ah. That was what I was waiting for. Confirmation. Relax, things will remain secret. You know me well enough.”

This time, it was Philip’s face that darkened. He raised his hands in mock surrender, but there was no mockery in his expression now.

Theo knew that he could trust Philip. In the end, he might need a friend to be there for him when he got burned.

Sophia was a fire that had remained hidden for a long time. Normally, young women were warned against the young men who could ruin them. When she pushed him away earlier, with shame on her face, he was the one who felt ruined.

“Where were you?” Theo heard Mary Fraser ask her companion.

“I was, as is usual in such gatherings, bored,” Sophia said convincingly, looking resigned.

However, Theo’s keen eyes saw how her hands trembled behind her back.

“Oh, dear. I was certain it was Lady Beatrice and her group of friends who made you leave the parlor,” the Dowager Countess said, taking Sophia’s hands. “Do not let them tell you what you should or should not do.”

Theo saw Sophia’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. She was undoubtedly thinking of what she had done earlier.

No, nobody could tell Lady Sophia what not to do, because she would do that herself.

“You are heartsick, Wolvesley,” Philip commented dryly.

“I am not. I am simply curious.”

“Don’t you want to approach her? Talk to her again? Call on her. If you are serious about her, you won’t merely trap her in secluded rooms. Even I, as a well-known rake, know that.”

“Something happened with Miss Martin for you to gain such deep wisdom?” Theo asked.

“You must stop steering the conversation away from yourself. This is about you, Wolvesley,” Philip reminded him.

Theo had no more patience for mere conversation. All he could think about was the next time he could kiss Sophia again.

He would make sure there would be another time, and more.