Satisfying The Duke & Her Debts (Strong Women Find True Love 1)

"Shakespeare? Perhaps you do have a hint of class in you after all," Isobel smirked in amusement.

"Shakespeare? Classy? He was an actor! A roguish roustabout and a filthy, lewd animal just as I am," Ellery declared proudly. "But we pretend he wasn't. Just as we pretend we ought to deny our desires. Chain ourselves, hold back who we truly are. And for what?" Ellery shakes his head.

"It's what's proper," Lady Duskwood insisted.

"Why do you feel the need to do what's proper - and not what's right? Not what makes you feel free? Why do you feel the need to feed in to the lie that lets a man like Eugenius flourish?" the duke asked.

Isobel stopped herself from responding. She thought on it for a moment - a long, painful moment. He was right. She looked away, vexed by the realization. By maintaining the idea of civility, she had played in to the duke's hands. By refusing to speak of her story, she had allowed him to keep up appearances. She had subjugated herself to that monster - and how many other women had he lied to? How long had he been doing this? How many other men and women lived constricted by the lies of one another? How many hurt from these lies?

"It's... a lot to think about," Isobel responded, not ready to make any drastic leaps. Society's lies must have meant something - else, why would so many uphold them, she asked herself.

"I think it's quite simply, m'lady. You let him lie to you, and he used that to get close, didn't he?" Lord Brighton moved closer, and suddenly she felt herself taken up in his arms again, her heart pounding; her face quivering, fragile and begging.

"Y... yes," she finally admitted. "He... he had convinced me, he could help. I even entertained the thought of extending my hand to him, should be agree to help me with the debts I owe to you. But he... he's no different from you," she sighed. "A creature obsessed with the flesh."

"Oh, there's a few very particular differences between us. One, I'm actually quite good at what I do in the bedroom, love," Lord Brighton smirked. She slapped his lapel, blushing brightly.

"Quiet," she muttered.

"Am I lying? You certainly seem willing, don't you?" he teased.

"...No," she said.

"You're feeding in to the lie again," he chastised her.

"Which lie this time?" she asked with a roll of her eyes.

"The lie that women are meant to be prim, and proper, and not enjoy sex, and the lie that all sex is meant to be boring," he whispered hotly into her ear. "That's a lie if I've ever heard one coming from your lips, Lady Duskwood."

"You don't know me," she said, voice warbling.

"I know your eyes," he missed not a beat in responding. The light gleamed in their gazes and after a moment of tense silence they both reacted - just the same way, the same thought on their minds. Lips locked, hearts pounding, they kissed right in that foyer, her hands shaking; his so strong and firm. She didn't know if he was right, or if he was simply a philandering rebel with no shame.

But she wanted him to be right.

CHAPTER TWELVE

She lay quivering on the bed, curtain drawn across a falling sun; a candle jumped about in the shadowed corner, its flame dancing across her body. She lay nude; her dress pulled from her body, luscious feminine flesh basking in the glow of the fire and the heat of his body looming over her. She could watch him, this time - he had given her permission to lay, and to watch - to watch his body writhe in pleasure, his muscles sizzle as he removed his jacket; as he undid one button after another, erotic and slow and utterly titillated by the sight of her shaking amid his sheets. She holds back a gasp, cupping her mouth when she sees his glistening abdomen exposed; sweat already dripping along his form; the summer heat bore down all around them, the windows pulsing with steam from the warmth of their bodies breathing; twitching, longing lustily for one another.

She didn't understand why she enjoyed being denied - especially, denied by a man like this. Perhaps she thought him a man of loose morality - and the feeling of one so virile denying her, when she could have a hand in marriage so easily... or perhaps she simply enjoyed the feeling of being commanded; of being told what to do, when to do it. But only from her master... only from the man whom she owed everything to. The man she thought she hated - the man she still wants to hate.

But when his hands rolled along the insides of her thighs and squeezed the soft and succulent, pouting flesh of her legs, until his fingertips dug deep and forced her to shake, none of that mattered; the shackled world outside the walls of Lord Brighton's bedroom melted away like sweet, creamy butter lain in the burning afternoon sun. His fingers teased against her blushing folds; she squirmed her legs together, denying him, but when his fingers dug deep into her thighs she felt that pain radiating through her neck - the pain of the brand he had left on her, his claim to her; he was the master, and she, his prey. The thought enticed her, and with a quaking moan just the thought of him parted her legs wide, her breath ragged and her eyes closed, imagining all the thousands of filthy dreams she didn't even know she had, all surfacing now; all the things she secretly wanted this irresistible, gorgeous lord to do to her.

She hesitated to speak; she didn't know if all of his bedroom rules had been suspended. She was allowed to look at him, after all - and every inch of him she saw she wanted to exclaim in hunger how much she longed for his body. His fingers moved swiftly to the leather and copper buckle of his belt, unclasping the garment; he slickly removed it from its loops and lashed it around Isobel's ankles, pulling the band tight, tight enough she could feel the leather chafing hard against her soft skin. He clasped it shut, leaving her legs bound; the sensation struck her oddly at first, but as his fingers ran tantalizingly along her calves, across her hips, onto her inner thighs, she immediately surrendered her inhibitions, barely able to breathe at how amazing it felt to be clasped and teased this way.

"I hope you've enjoyed watching me," he smirked, leaning over her, his kisses leaving a hot and steamy trail across her stomach, following her every dip and curve with his devouring desire, his tongue rolling around her left nipple. It stiffened and her back arched out; it felt so intense, her mind burning at the feeling of his lips lavishing praise on her skin while his breaths teased the sensitive, cold pink dollops of flesh atop her breasts. She opened her mouth to speak, her eyes wide as she realized her bedroom transgression, swallowing her words and watching him with bated breath. Satisfied that his lovely debtor had begun to learn to whom her hot body belonged, Lord Brighton grinned devilishly, pushing some of his wild, sweat-tinged hair from his brow, finally giving her a nod.

"You can speak... for now, love," he whispered, sending a cool breath down her shivering skin as he crawled off the bed, standing once more expectant, tall and triumphant before his quaking quarry.

"L... Lord Brighton—"

"Ellery, I told you," he waggled a finger. "Remember the rules, love..."

"E... Ellery," she said hesitantly, swallowing hard; swallowing in nervous embarrassment, closing her eyes and looking away. "Please—"

"Please," he repeated with a sigh. "A good word to start with, my pet... but I'd open my eyes, if I laid in your position, darling. From the look in your eyes, I get a mite feeling you enjoy seeing my body," he exhaled deeply. "You'd better see what you can of it before I play my next game with you." Her eyes shot open in mild, lustful panic.

"M'lord, please, wh-what do you mean?" her voice shook. She glimpsed him in the candlelight, a faint glow of sun cresting along the chiseled surface of his abs, rippling along his handsome skin. He taunted her with silent promises, fingers slipping into the waistband of his slacks, playing with the button, telling her fiery body that he'd give her what she dreamed of, seeing all of him, so soon... instead, he only teased, pulling his fingers away, leaving her breathing hotly.