My Darling Duke

A groan slipped from between his teeth, and it bothered him that she would see him so weakened.

Worried eyes peered at him. “Where does it hurt most? Alexander…please trust me with your pain as you did with your memories.”

The softly whispered entreaty burrowed into his heart. He lifted his chin toward his left thigh. And without hesitation, she gripped his flesh and started a deep press of her fingertips into his muscles. The cramps fought her ministrations, sweat beaded his brows, and he gripped the bedsheets between his fingers.

She muttered soothing nonsense each time he tensed. At times he stilled, and it was the cadence of her voice, and her foolish promises he would be well, that urged him to relax. His mind searched for something to take away the pain. With her touching him, it was quite difficult to transport himself to the varied places he normally willed his mind to in order to escape the pain.

“I could bring you more pleasure than you’ve ever dreamed of.” Truly, his tongue seemed to be disconnected from his mind. Still, he watched her reaction keenly, anticipating the possibilities of her delightful reaction.

Her eyes widened, and the fingers kneading the muscles of his calf paused. “I do not think we should be speaking of pleasures now,” she murmured huskily, resuming her wondrous massage of the knotted flesh of his legs.

How intriguing that she was not repulsed by the twisted muscles.

She bit into her bottom lip, a frown furrowing her brows, her lively, intelligent eyes shooting him curious looks.

Ahh. “You are tempted.”

A flush ran along her body. “I am human; I daresay it is normal to be curious. I’ve heard many whispers throughout the season, and, since I’ve no hope of marrying, I daresay I do not have to be at all proper, do I?”

The notion of Miss Kitty Danvers being more improper…perhaps even a bit wicked, had his groin responding with a sweet, terrible ache. The sensation of arousal was so visceral, sweat beaded on his forehead, and with hungry desperation, he searched into himself, wanting to keep that feeling with him, wanting to know once more the sensation of lust pounding through his cock and hardening it.

Yet his cock did not respond, remaining flaccid within the confines of his trousers. Until her kneading fingers drifted up to his thighs, until the image of her sprawled on the small bed, eyes wide with desire and apprehension, her dress hiked wantonly to her hips as his eyes feasted on the pale skin of her inner thigh, sent a violent ache through his length, causing it to flex and harden.

The shock of it almost caused him to expire on the spot. A certain long-dead part of his body was stirring.

Impossible. Too many years longing. Too many nights dreaming.

“If you wish to be wicked, take off your clothes and come here.”

“You are outrageous, Your Grace,” she cried, blushing something fierce.

“Alexander,” he teased, distantly wondering what the hell he was doing.

Yet she did not run from him in feminine outrage. No, her beautiful eyes measured him, her lips pursed thoughtfully.

“And how would you pleasure me?”

“Strip naked, come sit on my mouth, and I’ll show you,” he drawled provocatively.

Her eyes widened until he thought they would eclipse her face.

“Sit…sit…” This time her entire body blushed red. “I cannot perceive your meaning,” she squawked, pushing his legs away without any finesse and jumping to her feet. “I…I…cannot credit you would be so indecent to even s-suggest…” she spluttered, fisting a hand on her hip.

“Sitting on my face so that I can lick your pretty quim?” And he knew it would be pretty, soft and plump, wet and silky. And sweet mercy. Tight.

Alexander couldn’t say what possessed him to tease her in such an outrageous and wicked manner. With a squeak, she fled from the bedroom, as if he had grown horns and a tail. He chuckled. An apology for his provoking crudeness must be made at once. And atonement, of course.

He shifted, ignoring the pain whispering through him. Before he could make his way from the bed, Miss Danvers returned, a basin clutched between her hands. Alexander narrowed his eyes as she marched over in quick, determined strides. “Miss Danvers, allow me to offer my sincerest apol—”

Icy water dumped over his head, shocking him.

The impudence! With a scowl, he glanced at her. “You wet our bed.”

Her eyes glowed with fire and, if he wasn’t mistaken, defiance and amusement. “Has your ardor cooled?”

An unidentifiable emotion swept through him. It hadn’t risen. Except…a heat stirred low in his gut, and a ghost of desire caressed over his cock, causing it to twitch. He faltered into complete stillness.

It was not his imagination. Sweet mercy.