Page 17 of The Good Duke (The Licentious Lords #1)

W as there a problem , she’d asked? Simon gritted his teeth.

Only if one considered tugging a fellow off and then climaxing herself while the gent’s potential future bride is under the same roof, awaiting a formal introduction, a problem .

At that, she’d presented him with a lady who bore the same name as the first woman whom he’d ever courted.

Simon cursed long, loud, and blackly.

Only Persephone.

She was the only woman on planet Earth who’d come in his arms, then scamper off to collect his possible wife. The fact that she could do so effortlessly and callously left a bitter taste on his tongue.

All the anger drained from Simon, and he sat. He stared blankly at the door Persephone just sailed through.

God, she vexed him like no other. Where he’d secretly enjoyed their battle of the wits, this time she had gone too far.

As if you weren’t as much a bastard to her , the rational voice that forever lived in Simon taunted.

Nay, he’d been the worst sort of libertine. Where he’d always possessed a lusty appetite for the depraved behind bedroom doors, this particular instance was markedly different.

Persephone was no light o’ love. She was a lady, a former friend, and he’d said and done all manner of wicked things to her; the sort he’d only ever done with the most skilled courtesans.

What was worse, even knowing the inherent wrongness in how he’d treated her, Simon still possessed a hunger to have her in his bed where he could do even more with her… to her.

She, a bold, spirited, obstinate beauty would chafe at submitting to anyone.

Persephone’s loud and desperate moans and the increased wetness between her legs when he’d whispered sinfully delicious words into her ear indicated that, ultimately, she’d love all those depraved things he’d do.

These past days, he’d been consumed by wicked thoughts of what he wanted to do with her. He’d dipped himself in cold baths, lost countless hours of sleep, and slaked his lust with his own hand and her visage in his mind.

And since he was being honest with himself in this moment, he could also acknowledge that from the moment she’d come crashing back into his life, all grown up, voluptuous, and clever-witted as she’d always been, he’d wanted her under him. Over him. He’d wanted to take her anyway and every way, and then invent some new ones.

For, the thing of it was, when he’d taken her in his arms, not just any eager and willing body would have satisfied his hungering. In that moment, and this one, and every goddamned one since she’d arrived, he ached to bury himself in her . And only her.

On the other hand, for Persephone, any man would have sufficed as she’d so equably informed him.

He scrubbed a hand over his face.

Funny, he’d believed himself sufficiently jaded as to feel nothing anymore, only to be proven wrong by the sting of hurt at Persephone using him to slake her lust—lust which she’d matter-of-factly stated had nothing to do with Simon specifically, but rather was an itch that any man could have scratched.

In the heat of the moment and the heart of the act, he’d been all too glad at the fact she’d returned to him, no shy-eyed, innocent virgin—not that she’d ever been shy-eyed.

But when he’d known her, she’d absolutely been virtuous.

Now, his craving for Persephone momentarily—and only somewhat—sated, he considered a shockingly unpalatable question: Who’d been the man to provide her with such exquisite skills in carnal matters?

And given her glorious boldness, talents, and longing for the scandalous words he’d spoken, there could be no doubting she’d had lovers.

That should relieve him. He’d not sullied his former childhood friend. As such, he should sleep easier and be grateful to the man who’d introduced her to the art of lovemaking.

Rage boiled in his gut. A low rumbling started in his belly and reverberated in his chest.

In the greatest moment of hypocrisy in all of Simon’s life, he found himself consumed with a primordial rage. His hands curled reflexively into the arms of his chair as he battled a different hungering—to hunt down the one who’d so masterfully tutored her.

Restless, Simon exploded to his feet and began to pace. Retrieving his cravat and tailcoat, he quickly made himself presentable.

What in hell is happening to me?

He’d left London and shaped himself into a man who could be respected—one not so riddled with self-loathing and afeared of the world’s view of him that he couldn’t properly string a sentence together. He prided himself on his self-control, and he loved to live for his own pleasures.

Now, with Persephone back in his life, he found himself knocked off-kilter at every turn, wanting her so much that she clouded his thoughts about what he really wanted—to leave London, this time for good.

His gaze collided with the globe at the corner of his desk, and Simon stopped in his tracks. He flexed his jaw.

He’d installed that piece in this place where he oversaw his affairs and obligations to the people dependent upon him, so he never lost sight of his responsibilities, but also, of parallel importance, his desires to do that which made him happy—travel and be inspired in his writing.

This impending meeting with the first candidate for duchess got him one step closer to having his affairs settled and putting London behind him.

Simon gave his lapels a tug. Yes, this was precisely what he needed. Nay, wanted !

Knock-knock-knock.

Even expecting Persephone’s return as he’d been and having convinced himself he was all too eager to get on with it, his gut clenched. He should be relieved, and yet…when he married, Persephone would be gone and…

Simon rocked back on his heels.

What in hell was he thinking? He should be only relieved at the prospect of being rid of Persephone once and for all, of sending her on to some other employment, in some other household, with another employer who was anyone but him.

Another rap at the door came, this time harder and more insistent.

Knock-knock-knock.

The knots continued twisting like a vicious vise about his stomach, and he stared dumbly at the front of the room.

Yes, he should be relieved, except he’d come to find since she’d arrived, he’d actually enjoyed sparring with her. That was the only reason, the sole reason, her pronouncement left him feeling this…peculiar shade of regret.

Then the tapping stopped.

His heart ceased knocking about his ribcage.

Good. Perhaps she thought he’d been forced to see to some other official ducal business.

Through the heavy oak panel came the faint, muffled hint of her dulcet tones and those belonging to…another.

My possible bride-to-be.

Sweat popped up on his brow, and he rubbed the back of his sleeve over that dampness. Bloody hell, this was all happening too fast. Too fast.

There came another knock. This time just one that landed more as an announcement. Then the door opened, and the person responsible for that boldness dipped her head through the crack she’d made.

He tensed.

“The footman stationed at the end of the hall said you’d not left,” she whispered.

What a chap. Simon gritted his teeth. If he were one of those mercurial masters, he’d have sacked the man. But he wasn’t.

Persephone cleared her throat. “May we come in, Your Grace?”

We. Not: I.

Because of course, she’d brought his maybe bride-to-be.

Simon gave his cravat a tug. “And this is…p-proper? For her to be h-here, and for us to meet this w-way?”

Persephone gave him a gentle smile. “Of course, it is, Your Grace.”

He hated his title on her lips and had to forcibly remind himself he’d been the one to insist on that formal wall between them.

“You needn’t be nervous.” She spoke in the same soothing way she had when she’d rescued an injured bird and attempted to repair its wing. “I am here to make this as smooth an introduction as possible, Your Grace. And it is perfectly proper,” she added for good measure.

With that, she turned and opened the door all the way.

Simon’s muscles all snapped tightly in a dreaded anticipation.

He waited.

And waited.

Nothing happened.

Absolutely no one appeared. And a giddy relief bubbled in his chest. She’d merely been jesting. She’d—

“Come.”

Simon’s relieved smile vanished, and he tensed.

A moment later, someone appeared. Nay, not someone. Something. A tiny, white ball of fur with a tuft of hair in the center of its head came trotting into the room.

Simon drew back. This was whom she’d brought him. Not a bride but a damned dog. “ What in hell, Persephone? ”

Persephone drew the door shut quickly behind her, laid her palms upon the panel, and leaned back. “I know wh-what you are thinking?” she stammered.

Good, she was the stuttering one now. Served her right.

“And just what is that, Persephone?” he asked silkily.

“Th-that I d-did this to g-get the upper hand on you.”

Persephone darted the tip of that tongue he’d kissed only just moments ago. She dampened those red, sensuous lips and instantly put him in mind of all manner of uses he had for that mouth in a caddish repayment for this latest exploit.

With sleek, unhurried steps, Simon moved out from behind his desk and started toward her. Persephone made to retreat, but with the door behind her, it only rattled a revelation of those cowardly intentions.

With a mocking grin, Simon continued forward. “And you didn’t?” he whispered. “You’ve brought me a dog instead of a future duchess as some sort of game.”

He stopped a pace apart, close enough that he smelled a hint of fear on her.

He widened his smile, infusing a wealth of warning. “Be very careful, Persephone. I don’t take being lied to. Don’t make me punish you.”

“P-Punish me?” Hurt filled her eyes. “You would t-turn me out.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t let you off that easy,” he purred.

Understanding lit her revealing eyes. The long, graceful column of her neck jumped wildly. “Wh-what kind of p-punishment?” she asked throatily.

“Do you really want to know?”

She moistened her lips again. “I asked, did I not?”

Oh, the saucy mouth on her.

Simon filled his hands with her buttocks and pulled her against his painful erection.

She gasped, and her head fell back, knocking against the door, and certainly announcing their wicked encounter to the footman who’d alerted Persephone of Simon’s presence. And Simon didn’t give two shites.

He placed his lips alongside her temple. “I will spank you, Persephone. I will spank you so hard your luscious arse will go numb and your whole body will quiver, so you won’t know if you’re hurting or lusting for my palm upon your delectable skin.”

At the mental image that came to mind, Simon’s cock grew painfully harder.

He made a show of considering Persephone, whose quick, quiet pants bespoke a shared desire.

“Or,” he taunted, “maybe you would like that, sweet?” He filled his palms with her buttocks and squeezed.

She gasped a breathless rasp of desire.

“Do you want me to paddle your delectable flesh for your sins, Persephone?” he jeered.

“N-No,” she said quickly, but the excited glimmer in her eyes marked her as a liar.

Simon spun her about quickly, and Persephone brought her palms upon the door and canted her sweet arse out. She glanced over her shoulder. Instead of fear, her lashes fluttered with a sin-filled yearning.

He brought his hand down once in a punishing strike.

The dog gave a noisy little yap.

They ignored her.

Persephone moaned and rocked her hips against him. “Please,” she begged.

He chuckled. “Please give you more or please stop?”

Persephone pushed the delectable globes back in answer.

Abruptly Simon released her.

Persephone cried out; her body sagged.

“Do not ever cross me again, Persephone,” he whispered. “Or you will regret it.”

With that warning, he turned to go.

Persephone stared at Simon’s retreating figure and wanted to cry from being left aching and unfulfilled and from a keen sorrow at his apathy.

How coolly indifferent he should be toward her when Persephone remained consumed with thoughts of him and his touch, now filled with an even greater yearning for him to do all those wicked things he’d issued as threats.

Maybe that’s really why you’ve delayed in finding him a duchess. Because she knew the moment he had his illustrious betrothed and married that blushing bride, he’d be out of her life forever.

Which is for the best. Neither of you are the same people. They were strangers to one another, but they’d once been friends and, for that, she owed him the help she’d promised.

A sad little whining reached her. Persephone glanced blankly down. An adorable head cocked and sad eyes on Persephone, Lady Chloe stared back.

“Come here, you,” she whispered and filled her arms with the precious bundle.

The cuddlesome dog instantly burrowed against Persephone, and she took in all the warmth her soft little body conferred.

She burrowed her cheek against the top of Chloe’s head…when Persephone felt eyes upon her.

She glanced up.

Unblinking, Simon stared at Persephone with a confused little glimmer in his beautiful blue eyes. Discomfited by the ambiguous look he trained on her, Persephone held Chloe protectively close.

“Simon,” she called over. “I…I would have you know. You’re right.” Persephone took a deep breath. “Initially, I did have the idea to give you a dog as a means of rankling you.”

She rocked a now-sleeping Chloe in her arms. “The thing of it is, Simon, the list of qualities you seek in your duchess? It does feature traits all dogs possess: unfettered loyalty, a simple mindset, and being selfless.”

Persephone took a step near him and then stopped herself. “You were right to choose the characteristics of a dog in your bride. You, however, chose all the wrong ones. And so yes, as I said, initially I only brought Lady Chloe here to get a rise out of you.”

She searched her gaze over his expressionless, chiseled features. “Until today. Today, it occurred to me how very lonely and how very sad your life has become and how desperately you need a friend.”

Persephone lifted the dogs in her arms. “She will be a wonderful companion to you…if you let her.”

And Persephone would never be around to witness that relationship grow. That was, if Simon even kept Lady Chloe.

Reluctantly, she set the dog down.

The inquisitive pup, like the dutiful creature Simon had sought, trotted over to his side.

Unable to meet the duke’s piercing stare any longer, Persephone dropped a deep, respectful curtsy and left.