Olivia and the Masked Duke

by Grace Callaway

She complied with unladylike haste. Then again, she didn’t have to be a lady with Ben, and the freedom was exhilarating.

  From her position at his feet, she watched him undress and felt like she had the best box in the theatre. She greedily took in his flexing shoulders and the delineated blocks of his chest. Dark hair was sprinkled over his taut skin, a trail bisecting the stacked muscles of his torso. He was a man in his prime, and she could hardly believe that he was all hers. When his long fingers went to the waistband of his trousers, her pulse kicked up a notch.

  Was he going to show her his manhood…finally? She’d only had a glimpse of it that time she’d spied on him in the stables. Having felt the thick ridge pressed up against her, she was dying to see it. The other example she’d seen—brandished at her by that fellow at Cremorne Gardens—hadn’t been all that inspiring.

  Her breath held as Ben lowered the flap; a column of flesh fell forward with weighty momentum. She swallowed. Goodness.

  Removing the rest of his clothes, he gripped the huge rod. Her heart thudding, she watched the slow pump of his fist along the thick and veiny shaft. She noticed the supple movement of his skin and the way it pulled back to reveal a purplish dome. At the base, his male sac hung heavily between his corded thighs.

  His raw masculinity melted her insides like wax. Despite her recent climax, viscous need trickled from her core. Her fingers twitched against her thighs.

  “Do you like what you see, sweeting?”

  The arrogant jut of his chin told her he knew the answer, but she gave it to him anyway.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  His eyes gleamed down at her. “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, sir.” Just saying the word made her feel awash.

  “Very good. Since you are such a well-behaved miss, I am going to let you frig my cock. Put your fingers around me, like this.”

  He took her hand, wrapping her fingers around the thick stalk. He was steel beneath velvet, the contrasting textures intriguing beyond measure. He put his hand over hers, tightening the pressure of her grip, teaching her how to caress him. Her fingers didn’t reach all the way around, so she intuitively added her other hand, and he gave a low, appreciative growl.

  “You are doing so well, frigging my cock.” His approval was almost as arousing as holding him, hot and turgid between her palms. “Tell me, what does it feel like?”

  “You’re so big and hard.” After a heartbeat, she confessed, “And I feel like a wicked girl for liking it so much.”

  He shuddered, a droplet seeping from his tip.

  “Look what you’ve done,” he said in a husky voice. “You’ve made me spill a little seed. A quick study, aren’t you, love?”

  She looked at him from beneath her lashes, her best try at modesty. “So I’ve been told.”

  “Cheeky, too.” His stern glance scattered goose pimples over her skin, and he took his cock from her. The slow, thoughtful pumping of his fist made her pussy flutter. “I believe you require another lesson. Put your hands on my thighs.”

  Her palms moist against the hard, hair-dusted muscle, she looked adoringly up at him.

  “You are going to learn to suck my cock,” he said. “And there are some things to keep in mind.”

  She eyed his member, swaying like a giant branch.

  Hmm, like…not choking?

  Aloud, she asked, “Such as?”

  “Keep your jaw loose. Breathe through your nose since your mouth will be in use. And mind your teeth—that is important.” He raised his brows. “Do you think you can manage all that?”

  Was there anything she loved better than a challenge?

  At her confident nod, he smiled faintly. Then he brought his cock to her mouth.

  “Open,” he said.

  She parted her lips, and the proud heat of him slid inside. Even though she was well aware of his size, the feel of him inside her mouth was rather astonishing. His girth stretched her lips, his length an advancing incursion. Her eyes widened at how much more of him there was to accommodate. He wasn’t even halfway in yet…

  “Stop thinking so much, sweeting.” He cupped her cheek, his sapphire eyes holding hers. “Trust me to guide you. I won’t hurt you. Ever.”

  She knew that, of course. Knew that Ben would take care of her, as he had always done. Remembering that, she relaxed and surrendered into his keeping. His eyes glinted with pleasure as he slid in deeper, his big hand cupping the back of her head. Soon he was thrusting steadily, overwhelming her senses with his maleness. His torso rippled, his features harsh with arousal as he took his pleasure in her.

  Eager to serve him, she experimented with her tongue as he plunged between her lips. His groan urged her on, and when she licked the underside of his crown, his thighs turned to steel beneath her palms. His fingers digging into her scalp, he thrust harder, deeper, her pussy fluttering with each pass. All of a sudden, he nudged a place deeper than he’d gone before, and her throat clenched in reflex.

  “Devil and damn.” With a groan, he withdrew. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Don’t stop,” she gasped.

  In a smooth motion, he lifted her so that she lay on his bed, her legs dangling off the side. He nudged her thighs apart, standing between them, and she moaned as he fingered her pussy. Her hands twisted the coverlet as he screwed a thick digit into her, the slick sounds bringing a hot flush to her cheeks.

  “You’re drenched,” he said through harsh breaths. “You liked sucking my prick, didn’t you?”

  She arched her hips for more of his touch. “Yes, sir.”

  “You want more of it, don’t you? In here. In this needy little cunny.”

  He added another finger, his palm slapping her wet folds.

  “Yes, Ben,” she moaned. “Oh, yes.”

  “Maybe one day you’ll be ready for it.”

  She raised her head, narrowing her eyes at his devilish smile. “I’m ready for it now.”

  “Not tonight, love.” He chuckled darkly. “Now stop complaining and come on my fingers like a good girl.”

  Before she could argue, he curled his fingers, touching some magical place deep inside, setting off quakes of bliss. As she trembled in the aftermath, he stood between her legs, pumping his massive erection. He was all power and discipline, all delicious male. She was beginning to understand her own power as well, which was complementary to his and no less potent. He brought her so much pleasure…and she wanted to give him the same.

  She got onto her knees. Even though she was on the bed, he was still taller, looking down at her with hooded eyes, a sensual curve to his lips.

  “Will you please spend for me, sir?” she asked prettily.

  Hunger leapt like a flame in his eyes. “You would like to see that, would you?”

  “Yes, please,” she said, as demure as any debutante.

  Those lessons at old Southbridge’s have finally come in handy.

  “Such a polite young miss,” he said, jaw clenched. “All right, then.”

  His biceps flexed, his fist gliding faster and faster along that thick truncheon of flesh. She wouldn’t have dared to stroke him with such ferocity and felt breathless as she watched him, nearing his finish like a stallion at the Derby. His skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat, the shifting musculature beneath a sight to behold.

  “You wanted it, Livy,” he gritted out. “Here is my seed.”

  He aimed his cock at her breasts, and she gasped as the hot, milky streams lashed her skin. Groaning, he shot his seed copiously, covering her with his essence, the earthy scent curling her toes against the mattress. A droplet trickled down the slope of her breast, and she caught it with her fingertip. She swirled it over her nipple, shivering at the slippery, erotic feel. At the primal rightness of being marked by him.

  “Bloody hell.” His chest heaving, Ben took her face between his palms, dropping his forehead against hers. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

  She smiled tremulously. “I think it might be similar to what
you do to me.”

  “I am never letting you go,” he said fiercely.

  “That is just as well. Because I am never letting you go either.”

  They arrived at Charlie’s before dawn.

  “We’re at Lady Fayne’s, love,” Ben murmured.

  Cuddled up against him, Livy did not want to leave. Their night together had been magical. After making love, they’d both been famished. Ben had carted in the remaining supper, and they’d eaten naked in bed. They’d fed each other, Ben smiling at her voracious appetite. When sauce had dribbled down her chin, he’d licked it off.

  Afterward, he’d lain atop her, courting her with slow, stirring kisses. Pinned by his sinewy weight, his hardness rocking against her mound, she’d found ecstasy twice, and the second time, he’d joined her with a ragged sigh, his pleasure a warm flood over her belly.

  Having shared such precious intimacy with him, she feared the separation ahead.

  “I don’t want to leave you.” She looked imploringly at her beloved. “There must be some way I can help—”

  “We have been through this.” He cupped her jaw, his touch gentle yet firm. “I cannot concentrate on this dark business unless I know you are safe. I need to know that you will not be running around London, in disguise or otherwise. You will help me by doing as you are told.”

  The unyielding set of his features told her that further argument was futile. She swallowed, unable to bear the idea that she might prove to be a harmful distraction.

  “You may depend upon me,” she whispered.

  He studied her, then nodded. “My plan may take weeks to come to fruition. During that time, we will not be able to meet. I do not want those scoundrels to know what you mean to me, for it could put you and my mission at risk.”

  “I won’t see you at all?” she asked in dismay. “I’ll come to you at night. I’ll be careful—"

  “No.” His tone had never held more authority. “If our relationship is discovered, the bastards could use you against me. You must stay away. Give me your word, Livy.”

  Reluctantly, she did so.

  “There is another thing.” He exhaled. “During this time, you may hear gossip about me. Rumors about my conduct. I give you my word that I will be true to you, and I ask for your trust.”

  “I trust you,” she said.

  “There’s my brave little queen.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her with a tenderness that made her heart soar. “When this is over, we will move forward with our future together. You will wait for me?”

  “I would wait forever,” she vowed. “I love you, Ben. Be careful and come back to me swiftly.”

  26

  1843, Country Estate of Beatrice and Wickham Murray

  Livy is 13; Ben is 25

  “I have changed my mind.” Standing on a large rock looking down into the stream, Livy shook her little head, her plaits whirling. “I am not going in.”

  “But it is hot out, and the water is refreshing.” It was getting damned cold, actually. Ben had been standing in the chest-deep water for ten minutes, trying to coax the girl in. “And you are wearing your swimming outfit.”

  “I don’t care,” Livy said stubbornly. “I will go change.”

  “Hadleigh, why don’t you just leave the chit be?”

  He turned his head in the direction of Arabella’s sulky tones. His wife was standing by the side of the stream, several yards away from the rock. She was wearing an immaculate white gown that was better suited to a drawing room than a riverside picnic. Even from a distance, he could see the twin lines of annoyance between her brows. Arabella had not wanted to come to his sister’s house party, which she considered too “rusticated.”

  Even though he thought it was rather obvious—at least to anyone who cared a whit about him—he had explained to her how important it was for him to make amends to Beatrice. His sister was the only kin he had left, and after what he had done, an invitation from her was nothing short of a miracle. He had thought that Arabella, too, might want to mend fences with Bea, who’d once been her bosom chum. Yet Arabella had remained dead set against attending, and in the end, he’d had to set his foot down.

  His duchess had been pouting since they arrived three days ago. She’d been cold and rude to the other guests, which didn’t help his goal of becoming something other than persona non grata in his sister’s life. Frustration built in him, a gnawing ache in his chest that never seemed to go away. He had a sudden urge for the opium that he knew Arabella had brought with her, even though he’d instructed her not to. He and his wife had developed too many bad habits, and he wanted to steer their marriage onto a healthier path.

  Telling Livy that he would be right back, he strode through the water toward Arabella.

  In a low voice, he said, “I am trying to get Olivia into the water because her parents say she hasn’t gone in since the accident, and she used to swim like a fish. If she doesn’t give it a go now, she might have a fear of water for the rest of her life.”

  “Why do you care?” Arabella asked coldly.

  With her raven curls and emerald eyes, his duchess was a stunning beauty. Yet more and more, he saw the ugliness beneath, and it made him weary. He loved her, yes, but after seven years of marriage, he concluded that he did not like her very much.

  Nonetheless, he did not want to give up on the closest relationship he had left. They were stuck with one another for the duration. And he was determined for them to make a go of it.

  Thus, he controlled his temper and said, “I care because she is young, and her future should not be shaped by fear. And what if she falls into water again? For her own safety, she should learn to swim.”

  “That is utter claptrap,” Arabella retorted. “You only care because you like playing the part of her hero. You like that the girl looks at you like some dewy-eyed mooncalf!”

  He shot a look over at Livy, afraid that she’d overheard. Luckily, she was peering up at a vee of flying geese and didn’t seem to be paying attention to his row with his wife.

  “Are you mad?” he said in disgust. “For God’s sake, she is thirteen and like a younger sister to me.”

  “Maybe if you hadn’t alienated your actual sister, you wouldn’t be so pathetically desperate for more family.”

  Incredulity slammed into him, loosening his grip on his temper.

  “I would give my soul to undo my sins,” he said with vibrating anger, “but I will not be lectured by you. I think you and I both know that, of the two of us, I am not the only one who has wronged my sister.”

  Arabella blanched. He’d never brought up her shameful abandonment of Bea after Bea’s injury. The two had been the best of friends until Bea’s scar had ruined her popularity. Years ago, Bea had tried to tell him that Arabella had, indeed, been behind some of the cruel monikers aimed at Bea, but he had refused to listen. Refused to believe that the woman he loved could be so heartless.

  He’d nearly lost his sister because of his stupidity. Paid for it in the years of estrangement between them. Now that Beatrice had given him a second chance, he’d sworn to himself that he would do his best by her…and so would his wife.

  “You will be on your best behavior for the duration of this visit,” he clipped out. “No more sulking, no more complaints.”

  “I am not a servant, and I will not take orders from you.” Arabella’s face was now red with fury. “You and your sister think you are so much better than me just because my father’s wealth came from trade!”

  The accusation was ludicrous. His sister was the least snobby person he knew. Her closest friend was a tinker’s daughter, for God’s sake, and she treated her tenants like they were her family. He, himself, hadn’t given a thought to Arabella’s background when he’d proposed to her. Yet Arabella had a way of twisting things in her mind, and he knew from past experience that he could not sway her from her beliefs. He hated his feeling of helplessness. The impulse to find oblivion, even temporarily, rose within him.

  Ju
st then, voices sounded, a group emerging from the woods next to the stream. Ben’s jaw tightened as he recognized his rakehells-in-arms Edgecombe, Thorne, and Bollinger. In the past, he’d done plenty of carousing as part of the Horsemen, but of late he was trying to distance himself. A fresh start for him and Arabella included getting away from corruptive influences.

  The scoundrels weren’t getting his message. Or they found it amusing to confound his efforts to turn his life around. Although the Horsemen weren’t on his sister’s guest list, they must have found out about her party and come to make trouble.

  “I say, is that the Hadleighs?” Edgecombe came over, bowing to Arabella. “What a coincidence.”

  Like hell it was.

  “What are you doing here?” Ben’s words were filtered through his teeth.

  “We were just in the n-neighborhood.” Thorne kissed Arabella’s hand, and she giggled.

  “The better question is, what are you doing in the water, old boy?” Bollinger eyed the creek with a shudder. “It looks positively frigid.”

  “Cold water is good for the constitution,” Ben said curtly.

  “But you’ve left your pretty wife high and dry.” Edgecombe winked at Arabella. “And that is a crime.”

  “Indeed, sirs, this day has been a dreadful bore,” she said with a pout.

  “We are headed to town, my lady, to see a travelling troupe perform.” Bollinger made a leg. “Perhaps you would care to join?”

  “I forbid you to go,” Ben told her in a low voice.

  Shooting him a triumphant look, Arabella declared to the group, “That sounds like the perfect antidote to rustication.”

  Edgecombe gave her his arm, and she headed off with the group. Ben could not chase after her without looking like a fool. As the party disappeared from sight, he punched the water in frustration. Bloody hell, why could nothing go right? Why couldn’t he control the simplest damn thing?

  He felt as powerless to stop the wreckage of his life as he had been to save Griggs’s daughter. Disaster was approaching like an oncoming train. No matter how he tried to stave it off, he was destined to fail. To feel again her fingers letting go of his, to hear the whoosh of air as she’d fallen, dark triumph glittering in her eyes…