Page 16 of The Good Duke (The Licentious Lords #1)

H er body replete from the force of her release, Persephone remained trapped between Simon’s broad, powerful frame and the wall at her back.

Her chest heaving, her skin damp, she fought to rein in her dulled thoughts and steady her racing heart—to no avail.

She’d not been an innocent for quite some time now. As such, Persephone was no stranger to climaxing. Granted , it’d been a number of years since she’d suffered that little death at a man’s hands, and then, only with her former sweetheart, Silas.

For all the ways in which Silas had ultimately proven himself to be a cad, when it came to matters of lovemaking, he had been unfailingly considerate. He’d ensured in their every exchange that Persephone found pleasure along with him.

She drew in a slow, still uneven breath.

But not a single one of those orgasms she’d ever experienced had been anything like this mind-numbing rapture she’d known in Simon’s arms.

Perhaps that is it! Maybe the only reason her orgasm with Simon had been so intense was not because of any hold he had over her, but because it’d been so very long since she’d felt a man’s touch.

Heartened by that rationalization, she at last made herself open her eyes.

Simon expected Persephone to run.

From the sardonic glint in his penetrating blue eyes down to the faintly mocking smile on those hard, skilled lips that had just moments ago devoured Persephone’s mouth, she just knew he anticipated she’d flee.

In fairness, that’s precisely what she’d done following any number of recent encounters with him. And with her chest still heaving from the force of her climax, she wanted to run.

For that reason, Persephone would sooner rot on the spot she now stood than give Simon the satisfaction of being correct.

Unfortunately for Simon, Persephone had enough experience at mustering all her pride and presenting a brave show.

Persephone gave him a pointed look. “If you would be so good,” she said in her best finishing school instructor tones.

He narrowed his eyes.

Good. Better he be all askew than her .

“If I’d be so good as to what, Persephone?” His mouth softened into another of those cynical half-grins. “I am afraid you’ll need to be more specific.”

He grazed his lips along the shell of her ear, eliciting another delicious shiver. “Slide my fingers into your hot quim again and bring you another little death?”

She caught the inside of her lower lip between her teeth.

From the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, heat washed over Persephone, not from a proper blush but instead for the husky quality of Simon’s question and the image he painted.

Even sated as he’d left her, a sharp, familiar ache built between her legs.

Only, Simon wasn’t done with Persephone.

“Or is it you’re thinking about something different? Hmm?” Simon dangled his proposition forth like the serpent with an apple. “Perhaps, this time, you want my mouth on you, my tongue inside your soaking wet channel.”

Persephone grew wet all over again, and she pressed her legs together to bring some relief to the keen ache there.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he murmured. “Cat got your tongue, Persephone?” He flashed another slow grin. “Lucky cat.”

Never breaking contact with her gaze, Simon, with an infinite slowness, took those same fingers that had stroked her to surrender, and which still shone with the gleam left by her juices, into his mouth and sucked.

Her breath caught.

Then, with a smug grin, he removed them and tucked his impressive erection back inside his trousers, then returned as casual as could be across the room and over to his desk.

With his retreat, Persephone hurriedly tugged her neckline back into place and smoothed her dress into its proper place.

Since how and when had Simon become so blasted good at disarming a lady? It’d always been Persephone who’d, on occasion, unsettled him. Now that the slipper was on the opposite foot, she found herself rather detesting being on the other side of it.

She stole a downward glance and frowned.

Hopelessly wrinkled and rumpled as her skirts were, there could be no doubting what she and the duke had been up to this day.

When she glanced up, she found Simon seated and his face a perfect expressionless mask.

This is really enough, Persephone. You are better than this.

Persephone started over to Simon’s desk with a pace as measured as his own leisurely stroll.

Bypassing a seat in favor of the height advantage she secured over him, Persephone remained standing at the foot of Simon’s desk.

“We both needed to do this, Simon.”

“Slake our obvious lust for one another?”

“I would simply call it lust, no one another involved,” she said, clearing that up.

His brow dipped.

“Now that we’ve settled that,” she said, dusting her palms together, “may I suggest we return to the actual business we have together?”

Narrowing his eyes, Simon reclined in his austere, high-backed chair. “What exactly was settled ?” He quirked an eyebrow. “That throbbing ache you had between your legs?”

Fortunately for Persephone, in her tenure, she’d fielded all number of insults, unexpected questions, and more from her troublesome students. She managed to keep her features impassive.

“I’d wager you’re wet even now, Persephone.”

Even the wickedness of his words sent another rush of heat to her throbbing center. “You’d lose, Simon.”

She lied through her teeth. Had he slapped that bet down at White’s, he’d have won a fortune.

“Short of coming over here and discovering for yourself,” she drawled, “your arrogant supposition will remain unverified.”

Simon flashed a wicked grin. “That is one way to be sure…” He made to stand as if to come and test for himself.

Reflexively, Persephone backed away.

With a little laugh, one that said he’d been bluffing, Simon settled himself into his chair once more.

She continued to forget, where he’d used to be wholesome and pure, grown Simon had become raffish and naughty. It was the reason he continued tripping her up.

Persephone smoothed her features. For now, he may have the advantage, but he was about to cede the upper hand over to her.

Simon reached for his glasses but froze mid-movement at her next words.

“You will be happy to know, Your Grace, I have been hard at work these past days searching for your perfect bride.”

Glowering, Simon gave Persephone a harsh once over. “My goodness, what a mercenary creature you are,” he jeered. “You’ll come long and loud for me one minute and in the next measured breath you’re able to take, you discuss my future duchess.”

Fire blazed across her cheeks. Persephone cleared her throat. Gathering up his wire-rimmed spectacles, he waved them in Persephone’s general direction. She waited until he’d collected his. “There is more.”

He tossed his head back and howled with sardonic laughter. When Simon’s caustic-sounding mirth faded, he waved his glasses in Persephone’s general direction. “Very well. The more , madam?”

Persephone beamed. “I found her.”

His brow furrowed in an endearingly boyish confusion she recognized all too well. “You…”

“Found her.” She finished the rest of that thought for him.

Befuddled, Simon glanced around like he sought the “her” in question.

Persephone suppressed a smile. She gave a nod.

At his protracted silence, she gave a gentle prodding.

“Simon?”

“Hmm?” he murmured absently.

“I am also pleased to say she is here now. If you’ll excuse me while I go fetch her.”

And with a glib Simon at last knocked from his perch, Persephone gave her curls a little toss and headed off to collect the lady of his dreams so they might properly meet.

“P-Persephone!” he stammered, just as she clasped the handle.

When she had her smile firmly in check, Persephone faced Simon once more.

“Let me be sure I have this clear. You found me—”

“The very lady that you were looking for,” Persephone completed. “Yes, we’ve covered all that. You may thank me later.”

He continued to stand there dumbstruck. “And sh-she is here n-now ?” His voice skidded up an octave.

She nodded.

Silence fell, and Persephone reveled in his discomfiture, lapping it up like a barberry ice.

She batted her lashes. Then she asked, calling forth all the innocence of a doe-eyed debutante, “Is there a problem ?”

Dumbly, he shook his head.

“Splendid. If you’ll excuse me then, Simon…I will be along with Lady Chl—”

The full name hadn’t even left her lips when he dissolved into a choking fit.

His cheeks grew florid.

For the first time since she’d flipped the tables on him, Persephone grew concerned she’d gone too far. “Simon?” she asked, venturing over. “Are you all—”

He stayed her with a hand. “F-Fine. J-just f-fine,” he managed to rasp out between great, heaving gasps. Simon took several moments to compose himself.

Once he’d regained control of himself, a harsh glint iced over his gaze. “Well, let us get on with it. Let me see the first Diamond you’ve brought me.”

Something in his words, in the reminder he’d his sights set on some young, virtuous, breathtaking beauty sent an unwelcome jealousy roiling in her belly. She didn’t want to think about—

“Is there a problem?” His wry query slashed across her runaway musings.

“No,” she said softly.

“Very well.” He inclined his head. “Run along, then.”

Run along.

Persephone fisted her hands at her side. Simon’s was an order because, despite their past and the mesmeric embrace they’d shared, Persephone remained a woman in his employ and nothing more—at that, a woman tasked with finding Simon a bride.

Suddenly miserably forlorn, Persephone made to go so she could just get all of this over with.

“Oh, one more thing,” he called, because of course he now lived to torture her.

Persephone stared questioningly at him.

In a perfectly ducal pose, Simon clasped his hands behind him and trained an austere gaze upon her. “Given we’ve entered the part of our arrangement where you bring forth young ladies, all whom I’ll consider as my eventual duchess, I’d have you refrain from using my Christian name.”

A slap would’ve hurt less than that pomposity.

She bowed her head in proper servility befitting the station divide between them. “Very well, Simon.”

This time, he let her go, and as she closed the door behind her, putting that wooden panel between them, she silently acknowledged that as much as Simon had hurt her with the barriers he’d put up, it was for the best. Persephone needed the reminder she was nothing but a nuisance whom he’d taken pity on and found a purpose for—among those, slaking his lust with.

After this meeting, she’d throw all her efforts not into needling him but finding him the lily-white bride he sought. Then she’d have references and a sum to tide her over until she found her next assignment.