Duke I’d Like to F…

by Sierra Simone

  He let out a huff of laughter. “Thought squeezing arses was strictly the prerogative of men.”

  “Thankfully, you and I are far more enlightened to believe such nonsense.” Then, cautiously, “Do you dislike it?” She moved to take her hands away.

  Quickly, he urged her back against him. “Let me show you how progressive I am.” He leaned down and kissed her again, their tongues meeting.

  Need built, fast and hot, and he ached with the desire to be inside her. But it had to wait.

  He pulled back and stroked his thumb across her lower lip. “I’ve something for you.”

  “I can feel it,” she murmured, her hand cupping his iron-hard cock.

  A growl rose in his throat, and he wanted nothing more than to press himself into her touch. But he had another purpose, so he took a reluctant step back. Holding his hand out, he said, “Come with me.”

  She frowned in curiosity, but laced her fingers with his, allowing him to lead her to the table. A smile lit her face as her gaze fell on all the details he’d been so meticulous in arranging, from the array of food carefully placed on pretty plates, to the beeswax candles throwing golden light across the small banquet.

  He held his breath as he waited for her to see the gift. Her smile widened when she spotted the wrapped parcel.

  She brushed her fingers over the cornflowers—they hadn’t wilted, and were as vividly blue as when he’d picked them—before undoing the string. Fastidiously, she unfolded the paper, as though she was loath to tear it.

  “A fine book,” she said, holding up the slim volume. It was, in truth, rather plainly covered, the spine minimally adorned, which was by design. “Looks familiar…”

  “It should. It was once yours, and now it’s yours again.”

  Her eyes widened, then she opened the book and read the title page. “The Scoundrel’s Willing Captive.”

  “The one I nicked from your collection of salacious novels,” he confessed, suddenly shy.

  “You kept it all these years?”

  Heat crept into his face. “Read it too many times to count. I used to sniff at its pages, hoping that I’d catch a hint of your scent. I’d hoped—” He swallowed. “I’d hoped that you’d touched yourself, and then turned a page, so that your fingers fragranced the paper. Just thinking about it, I’d hold the book in one hand and frig myself with the other.”

  She sucked in a breath, her own cheeks stained deeply pink. Her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip. He stared at it, fascinated.

  “Do you want to keep the book?” she asked, her voice breathy. “For…inspiration?”

  “I want you to have it back. I want to picture you holding it, thinking of me with my cock in my hand.”

  Her lashes fluttered. “For someone with limited sexual experience,” she murmured, “you seem to know precisely what to say.”

  “Instinct,” he answered. “And…I never thought myself the sort who felt things like inspiration—I’m a man of the sciences. But with you…” He struggled to locate the right words, to give them shape and set them free.

  She was silent, allowing him to find his way on his own.

  Drawing confidence from her, he said, “You inspire me. You always have.”

  She held the book close to her chest, which rose and fell rapidly. Her face upturned, she stepped closer to him. “I never knew. I almost believed you didn’t like me—whenever I’d come into a room, you wouldn’t look at me or speak to me.”

  “Hell, all I wanted to do was stare at you,” he admitted. “You were so lovely, but more than that, I could feel it within you. This…will. Something wild and strong and beautiful, but you wouldn’t let it out. Perhaps it was to protect yourself. Maybe it was to shield my family from your spirit, powerful as it is.”

  Her gaze dropped. “You sensed this from seeing me across a drawing room?”

  “If I’m wrong—”

  “Not wrong.” She shook her head. “Here I’d congratulated myself on successfully playing the role of demure, proper governess. And I didn’t fool anyone.”

  “But you did. Whenever my parents spoke of you, they always praised your propriety, that you were a good example for my sisters.”

  A wry laugh broke from her. “And yet a sixteen-year-old boy saw through all that.”

  “Not a boy.” Small flares of irritation flickered, because he was not a child, and she needed to know that. “This boy—who’s no longer a boy.”

  “A man,” she murmured. After setting the book down, she stroked her hand along his shoulder, up his neck, and wove her fingers into the hair above his nape. “Kiss me—slow and deep.”

  “I want to. God, how I want to.” He clasped her wrists, feeling her pulse beneath his fingers, trying to memorize her by touch. Because once he said what he needed to, she might push him away and walk out the door. Yet he had to give her the full truth before they went any further. “There’s something you need to know. Something that might make you end this now.”

  Her hands dropped and she took a step back. “You’re affianced.”

  “I’ve no bride awaiting me,” he answered, but had to add, “yet.”

  She said nothing, her face still and unreadable.

  “That farthing’s meaning far outpaces its monetary value, because it contains another of my father’s reminders.”

  “It holds a great deal of weight for such a small coin.”

  He gave a soft snort. “And I carry it with me always.”

  “What is this other lesson?” she prompted him.

  “Every part of a duke’s life is woven into the larger world,” he explained. “None of his decisions affect merely himself, and that includes his choice of wife.”

  “Ah.” She inclined her head, but he needed her to understand him completely.

  “There is no bride picked out for me, but when I marry, I’ll have to consider more than just what my heart wants.”

  “It must be an advantageous match,” she said crisply, “in every regard. Wedding a governess is not advantageous.”

  He spread his hands. “When I was born, I entered a realm where I was merely a player in a larger scheme.”

  “Yet you still reap the advantages of your position.”

  “No denying that. There’s a price to be paid for everything, however.”

  “Such as the selection of the woman who will bear your heirs.” She leveled a smile at him. “Your meaning is taken. Rest assured that I’ve no designs on becoming the next Duchess of Tarrington. I’ve never had ambition to become one of the nobility, or even the gentry. In some ways, gently born ladies have even less freedom than those of us who are commoners.”

  There was relief at her understanding, yet he could not completely suppress his disappointment that they could never be more to each other than two people sharing physical pleasure. It would be all too easy to care deeply for her. Judging by the way he hurried here tonight, and the care he’d taken in making everything ready for her, he already walked that path.

  “Even so,” he went on, determined to give her the choice, “if you decide that this is as far as our affair goes, I won’t stop you from leaving.”

  She lifted a brow. “Do you want to end this?”

  His chest squeezed tightly. “You’re all I think about.”

  “And your ducal duties,” she added, her smile thawing.

  “Those, too. But when I’m not considering petitions and reviewing mountains of documents, I am consumed with thoughts of you. I want you, Cecilia. So bloody much.”

  His breath came quickly, his hands loose at his sides as if he needed to make ready to reach out and seize hold of whatever was offered him.

  “I am a duke, and powerful beyond all reckoning, but you…” He swallowed hard. “You are so much more formidable than I could ever hope to be.”

  “You underestimate yourself,” she said, swaying closer.

  Pleasure and relief coursed through him when she looped her arms around his neck and brought her
body close to his.

  “There’s a matter of a kiss I requested,” she murmured. “It has yet to materialize.”

  He brought his mouth to hers, taking his time as she wanted. There could be pleasure in crashing together, but it could be even greater with a gradual build of hunger.

  She pressed closer to him, her hand gripping his shoulder tightly. His senses were afire with her, blazing with her taste and touch. Soon, they were both panting, hips snug together. Though layers of fabric separated them, he loved the feel of her shifting against him. It was as if she tried to push past the barriers and join flesh to flesh.

  “I’m returning the book, but there’s a condition attached.” When she pulled back to look up at him questioningly, he explained, “Tell me what part of the story you liked best.”

  Her smile was wicked. “You remember the part where they outrun a rainstorm, and take shelter in an abandoned farmhouse?”

  His heart thudded erratically—he’d read that section of her erotic novel many times. It never failed to inspire his fantasies. “She rides him as he sits on a chair beside the fire.”

  “Never done it that way, and I’ve always wanted to.”

  He followed her heated gaze over his shoulder to the armchair tucked into a corner of the cottage. His cock twitched in anticipation. “Get undressed.”

  “The student commands the teacher,” she said with a hint of humor. “In this instance, I’ll permit your insubordination.”

  “And if I make a habit of such wayward behavior?”

  She lifted onto the tips of her toes and lightly bit his bottom lip, jolting arousal through him. “I don’t punish my pupils—but we’ll find something suitable for a recalcitrant student. For now, however, I will take your suggestion under advisement. Are you ready for another lesson?”

  “Please,” he rasped.

  “How to undress a woman.”

  He sucked in a breath, his whole body tightening in readiness.

  She turned around, presenting him with a row of tiny buttons that marched down the back of her bodice. “Undo these—and you’re welcome to take your time.”

  “Prolonging the pleasure makes it even greater.”

  Smiling over her shoulder, she murmured, “Such an excellent pupil.”

  He glowed at her praise. He might not be able to give her promises of a future, yet he could give her the pleasure they made together. As he reached for the buttons, he could not stop himself from stroking a hand down the length of her nape, where her skin was all suppleness and silk.

  “A most outstanding student,” she said, sounding slightly winded.

  He was graceless as he struggled to slip the buttons free, his hands shaking. It was like uncovering the universe’s greatest mysteries as he revealed her, her warm scent rising when her skin was uncovered.

  “Help me remove my dress,” she instructed, lifting her arms.

  “I feel like an ungainly lout.” Holding the soft fabric of her gown in his big hands as he guided the garment up and over her head only emphasized the differences between them, and the contrast stoked his desire.

  “You don’t touch me like an ungainly lout.” She took the dress from him and hung it on a peg on the wall. Now she stood in a long white shift, and he could catch a glimpse of her stays beneath. She was closer to nakedness, but still too garbed for his liking.

  “How do I touch you?”

  “Like a man who wants to revel in his pleasure.”

  “Wants to,” he noted. “But doesn’t.” She saw him in a way that no one else did—including himself. He was coming to adore this perceptiveness of hers. With each of her insights, the ground beneath them levelled, and they met as true equals.

  “There’s more to your passion than you’re allowing free. Yesterday, when we were against the door, I felt it. When you finally do trust yourself to slip from your tethers entirely…” Her smile was slow and carnal. “Which brings us back to your lesson in stripping your lover. Next is my petticoat.”

  Turning around once more, she gestured to the ties of the long white garment. He was only slightly more adept at undoing them than he was the buttons of her gown.

  “Handling tiny geological samples presents no difficulty,” he muttered. “But now my fingers feel like sausages.”

  “Desire can make anyone clumsy.” She pulled off her petticoat and put it with her dress, so that now she was only in her stays and shift.

  He lost his breath at the sight of her, her lovely bare skin dotted with tiny golden freckles. Her breasts rose above the top of her stays, barely covered by the sheer shift, and he loved that she stood still and magnificent as he drank her in with his gaze.

  He exhaled, torn between frustration and arousal. “Who’s responsible for putting women in so many layers of garments?”

  She chucked low. “No one benefits, except the mantua makers. Now, the laces on my stays.”

  It took far too long to undo the ties—he ached for her naked flesh. And yet it was over too quickly— he wanted to savor the experience of undressing her. Soon, she stood before him in only her shift. The sheer fabric barely concealed the hardened tips of her nipples, and he could just make out the triangle of curls between her legs.

  “Talk to me,” she murmured. “There’s something delicious in hearing your lover’s thoughts.”

  “I want inside your body, and your mind,” he said on a rasp.

  “Then let me into yours.”

  “You’re so lovely.” It wasn’t easy to speak or give shape to the raging need within him. Yet as the words left his lips, her gaze grew both aroused and soft. Perhaps she’d expected him to say something crude. “If you only knew how many times I’d tried to picture you like this.”

  “Why stop here? Take off my shift.”

  He helped remove the flimsy garment, his breath rough. Now she was clad in nothing but a knowing smile, and as she plucked the pins from her coiffure, her hair tumbled over her shoulders.

  He sank down to his knees as he beheld her—full breasts tipped with large, tawny nipples, rounded belly, a gorgeous nest of honey-colored hair between her legs. “By God.”

  She stepped to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face into the softness of her stomach. He rubbed his cheek against her silken flesh, his breath ragged.

  “Go lower,” she instructed. “Taste how much I want you.”

  He nuzzled down, and she inhaled sharply as he dipped his tongue between her folds. The taste and smell of her arousal was a conflagration in his blood.

  “I want you to—” he began, then stopped himself as that shadowed, demanding thing within him tried to seize control.

  “It’s all right,” she whispered. “Take control. Tell me what you want.”

  The creature inside him growled in approval. “Widen your legs for me.”

  She made a soft whimper, and to his delight, she complied. “Use everything I’ve taught you.”

  He caressed her pussy with his fingers, then his tongue, and her hands clutched at his head.

  “Yes—yes,” she urged him.

  He lapped at her, sucking and licking and devouring her like the feast she was. When he thrust two fingers into her passage—touching her as she’d instructed in the schoolroom—she moaned. Within her was the secret place, swollen with need, and he stroked against it as he flicked his tongue against her clitoris.

  She came with a cry, holding him tightly to her as she ground against his unrelenting mouth. He gripped her trembling thighs to keep her standing, and her knees wobbled.

  Kissing his way up her stomach, he kept her upright while he rose to his feet. Her fingers still wove into his hair, and she tilted his head to kiss him.

  “You liked that.” He’d pleased her—the fulfillment of his greatest wish.

  She stroked her hand along his jaw. “When natural talent meets a willingness to learn, the benefits are boundless.” Before he could preen, she went on, “Still haven’t given me everything I want.”


  He glanced toward the waiting chair, then back at her, and her smile was replete with sensuality.

  Reluctant though he was to let go of her, he had to in order to take off his clothing. He pulled everything from his body in a frenzy of movement, the task made difficult by the avarice in her gaze as she watched him disrobe. He was grateful for the work he did to maintain his condition—if only to see how much his form pleased her.

  When he was finally nude, he strode to the chair and brought it beside the fire. His limbs were electric with energy and need, the chair weighing nothing as he placed it precisely where it had to be to fulfill her fantasy. He was rewarded by her approving nod. Her gaze flicked to the chair in a wordless command. At once, he sat down to wait for her.

  She walked to him, a timeless siren swaying her hips with each step. Though she seemed breathless with eagerness, she took her time crossing the distance, as though she savored not just their joining, but the delicious tension that stretched out in the space between sex. Here again, she taught him. There could be enjoyment in the delay of pleasure, and in cultivating anticipation.

  Yet she was no goddess. She was as much a mortal being as he, and that made his need and admiration for her expand like the corona around the sun, engulfing them both in heat and radiance.

  By the time she stood in front of him, his chest heaved and his cock ached as it strained up toward his navel.

  “Are you ready?” she asked throatily.

  “Fuck, yes.” Perhaps he should have been more eloquent, but it was impossible to find pretty words when he was dying with want of her.

  Before she could instruct him, he opened his arms. He could show her that he’d taken her lessons to heart, and that he was becoming the powerful man she believed him to be.

  She came to him right away, positioning herself. The chair was amply proportioned. Following her lead, he helped arrange her limbs so that she straddled him. Their bodies fit together snugly, surrounding them in heat of their own making, even as the fire sent out its own glowing warmth. He clasped her rounded hips, loving the softness beneath his palms.