Griffin Stone: Duke Of Decadence (Dangerous Dukes Book 3)

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Then trust me now.’ He blew delicately against that swollen ache between her thighs, causing her to shudder and tremble with the pleasure of that caress. ‘Do you like that?’

  ‘Yes,’ she groaned weakly, fingers now digging painfully into his muscled shoulders. Although Griffin seemed unaware of any pain.

  ‘And this?’ He slowly lathed the rough length of his tongue against her swollen flesh.

  ‘Yes!’ Bea’s cheeks suffused with embarrassed colour at the intimacy even as she rose up on tiptoe as the force of that pleasurable caress ripped through the whole of her body.

  He moved back slightly before taking her hand and tugging lightly until she sat down on the rug beside him. ‘I will not hurt you, Bea,’ he assured her gruffly. ‘I will never do anything to hurt you or endanger you.’ He cupped her face in his hands before his lips gently claimed hers.

  Bea was so befuddled by the end of that long and satisfying kiss that she offered no further hesitation as Griffin pushed her gently down onto the rug before parting her legs and settling the width of his shoulders between them.

  She groaned low in her throat at the first touch of his tongue against that swollen ache between her thighs. Her hands fell limply to her sides, eyes closing as she became lost in the pleasure of that moist and rhythmic caress. A pressure began to build inside her that she did not understand. Did not need to understand. She needed only to feel, as Griffin’s hands cupped the cheeks of her bottom to tilt her up to him, like a sacrifice on an altar.

  ‘Griffin!’ She gasped as the pressure built and built. Until it grew so high, so intense, she felt as if her whole body might explode from the joy of it.

  Until she did explode, deep inside her, the intense pleasure radiating outwards as well as inwards until she lay weak and gasping.

  ‘Wh—what was that?’ she gasped weakly.

  Griffin moved to lie beside her as he slowly licked her juices from his lips. ‘The French call it le petit mort—the little death,’ he translated huskily.

  Bea certainly felt as if she had died and gone to heaven and she was sure that she had never experienced pleasure like it.

  ‘The English refer to it as a climax, or an orgasm.’ Griffin smoothed the hair back from the dampness of her brow.

  ‘I— Does that—does that always happen to a woman when—when a man and woman are t-together?’ she prompted shyly.

  ‘Only if the man cares enough to ensure her pleasure, which sadly too many rarely do.’ His jaw tightened. ‘And if the woman allows herself to become excited or stimulated.’

  Bea gazed up at him searchingly, detecting a bitterness beneath his tone and the sudden bleakness of his expression. She was too satiated, too lethargic to care at that moment as she lay unabashedly naked beside him. Modesty seemed a little silly when Griffin had not only looked at her most intimate of places, but had also licked and tasted her there.

  All bitterness fled as he smiled down at her, his gaze warm. ‘You are a singular woman, Bea. Very passionate and giving.’

  She smiled. ‘I believe you are the one who is remarkable, for having ignited that passion. I— Does a man experience that same climax?’

  Griffin drew in a sharp breath, unsure of how to answer her. It was obvious Bea was an innocent, that her own responses just now had surprised her, her orgasm was a shock to her. How much more shocked would she be if she were to see him achieve his climax?

  ‘Griffin?’

  He closed his eyes briefly before looking at her. ‘I do not know how to answer you, Bea,’ he admitted honestly.

  ‘With the truth?’

  Griffin’s lids lowered. ‘My own arousal is more physically visible than your own.’

  ‘The swelling in your pantaloons?’

  ‘The swelling in my pantaloons,’ he confirmed uncomfortably.

  She sat up slightly. ‘Would you—? Can I see it?’

  He swallowed as he saw how pretty her breasts looked as she sat forward, so firm and uptilting, her nipples still swollen and rouged from his earlier ministrations.

  He gave a shake of his head. ‘That would not be a good idea.’ Felicity had visibly paled the first time she had seen him naked. Despite all his efforts to arouse her, to ease his passage, she had screamed the first time he had penetrated her, until he had retreated again when her sobs had become too much for him to bear. The second time had been no better, nor the third, thus setting a pattern for their physical intimacy that had never changed.

  Not that he intended to penetrate Bea. She was an unmarried lady, an innocent still, whether she believed it or not, and once inside her Griffin knew he would be unable to stop himself from spilling his seed.

  No, far better that he should send Bea back to her bed before he returned to his own chamber, where he could douse himself in cold water! ‘I believe you might sleep now if you were to return to your bedchamber.’

  Bea was sure that she would, her body having an unaccustomed lethargy, a feeling of fullness and satiation, and no doubt resulting from her orgasm.

  But she did not feel like falling asleep. She did not want their time together to be over just yet, and there was still that intriguing bulge in Griffin’s pantaloons to explore.

  ‘May I please see?’ She looked at him encouragingly.

  His jaw tightened as he obviously waged his own inner battle. Quite what that battle was, Bea had no idea, but she knew that there was one from the stormy grey of his eyes and the clenching of his jaw.

  ‘You really are a witch!’ He groaned his defeat and began to unfasten his pantaloons. ‘The moment you are frightened you will tell me to stop.’

  ‘Frightened?’ Bea looked at him incredulously as she watched that unfastening in fascination. ‘Why would I be frightened?’

  ‘You are a genteel lady and I am...overlarge, in that area,’ he acknowledged reluctantly as he unfastened the tie of his drawers.

  ‘But that is surely because you are altogether an overlarge man?’

  ‘Yes,’ he bit out grimly. ‘But some ladies find me unpleasantly so. Especially here.’ He folded back his drawers as he spoke the last word, allowing his arousal to spring free of all restraint as he lay back on the rug and stared up at the shadowed ceiling.

  Almost as if he could not physically bear to watch her reaction, Bea realised.

  She sat up completely, her fascinated gaze fixed on his member; surrounded by dark curls at its base, it was indeed an impressive size, but Bea saw no reason at all for fear. She looked up at Griffin’s face, frowning as she saw how pale and strained he looked. ‘Does it hurt to be so swollen?’

  ‘No.’ His voice sounded strange, strangulated.

  ‘Then may I touch it?’

  ‘Bea...’ He broke off his angry outburst as she flinched back, his eyes glittering darkly. ‘If you touch me I am afraid I shall—I shall be unable to maintain control myself!’ he bit out forcefully.

  ‘You will climax?’

  ‘Without a doubt I shall, yes!’

  Bea gave a confused shake of her head. ‘Why should you not, when I have already done so?’ Her cheeks felt warm.

  Griffin drew in a deep and controlling breath. ‘You asked to see and I have shown you. Are you not fearful? Overwhelmed by my size?’

  ‘If I am overwhelmed then it is at your magnificence,’ she assured him softly. ‘And, no, I am not in the least frightened. Why should I be when this is a part of you?’ She touched him gently with her fingertips, incredulous at how soft his skin felt when he was obviously so fiercely hard.

  He was steel encased in warm velvet, her touches becoming bolder still as Griffin made no further objection to her explorations, although the grinding of his teeth spoke of his inner fight to remain in control as her hand cupped him.

  He drew his breath in sharply as Bea’s other han
d then moved to close about him, and, recalling how Griffin had made love to her, she began to lower her head with the intention of feeling him with her mouth, her tongue.

  ‘No, Bea!’ Griffin groaned weakly in protest even as his body burned for more of her touch.

  ‘Will it hurt you if I do?’

  ‘No. But— Saints protect me!’ He groaned as her tongue tentatively licked his length.

  Griffin groaned his pleasure as she licked and tasted, causing Bea’s fingers to tighten as she began to stroke until he began to thrust up into her encircling fingers. She reacted instinctively as she widened her lips and took him into the heat of her mouth.

  ‘You are killing me, Bea!’ Griffin gasped weakly, hands reaching out to grasp her shoulders.

  Bea did not believe that for a moment, knew from the throb and heat of him in her hands, and the fact that he was holding her closer rather than pushing her away, that Griffin would shortly experience that same intense pleasure as she had just minutes ago.

  The petit mort.

  The little death of pleasure.

  And she wanted to give this to him. Wanted to share this with him.

  She had no idea why any other ladies should ever have been frightened of him. Why he should have been so reluctant to let her see and touch him, when his body was so truly magnificent. Nor did she care. At this moment, here and now, there was only herself and Griffin.

  Heat engulfed her own body for a second time at the sounds of Griffin’s groans of pleasure.

  ‘Stop now, Bea! For goodness’ sake, you have to stop...’ Griffin’s protest turned to a loud and aching groan as his own pleasure overtook his control, his fingers digging painfully into her shoulders as he continued to gasp his pleasure.

  The arousal of Bea’s own body rose with each hot and pulsing jet of Griffin’s release, heat engulfing her as she climaxed for a second time, adding her own groans of completion to Griffin’s.

  Chapter Nine

  Griffin was at a loss as to know what to do next, his fingers lightly stroking the dark silkiness of Bea’s hair as she lay with her head against the dampness of his thighs, his body now totally spent.

  As he now felt totally relaxed and at ease in Bea’s company.

  Had he ever felt such a connection to any woman?

  Had any other woman ever given to him so wholeheartedly as Bea just had?

  Had any other woman climaxed just from giving him pleasure, as he knew Bea had?

  Never, came the instant answer to all those questions.

  But what to do now?

  The complications of what they had just done together weighed heavily on Griffin’s shoulders. He did not need to offer marriage, of course. Precarious as Bea’s life seemed at the moment, she did not need to add to that uncertainty by taking such a socially inept man as her husband!

  But should he at least insist she return to her own bedchamber before going to his?

  Would she be happy with that, or would she want him to stay with her tonight?

  Just thinking of lying beside her for the whole night, his body wrapped protectively about hers, was enough to cause his body to throb in anticipation of further lovemaking.

  Lovemaking that should not—could not—happen again.

  Tonight they had given each other pleasure with their mouths and hands, but if it was allowed to happen again how long before they—he—wanted more? Before he wished to possess Bea totally? How long before making love put them both at risk, so that marriage was no longer an option but a certainty?

  Bea was warm and giving, yes, but Griffin did not need her to say the words to know that she would not want to tie herself to a man such as him for ever because of an unborn child.

  Especially so when somewhere a man called Michael was awaiting her return.

  ‘You are very quiet,’ Bea said as she raised her head to look at him.

  Griffin breathed in deeply before speaking. ‘I was just thinking that—’ He paused with a frown as there came the sound of a loud knocking. ‘What the devil?’ He sat up abruptly, a scowl marring his brow as he turned towards the door.

  Bea also frowned at the interruption; she was desperate to know what Griffin had been thinking as he’d lain so quiet and unmoving beneath her.

  Was he as happy as she was, overwhelmed by the warmth of emotions flowing between them?

  Or was he regretting what had just happened between the two of them, and seeking some way in which to gently but firmly express those regrets?

  ‘You must dress immediately,’ he instructed harshly as there came the sound of another loud pounding, causing him to rise quickly to his feet before hastily fastening his pantaloons. ‘Now, Bea.’ He scowled darkly as she still sat naked upon the hearthrug. ‘It would seem we have a visitor, and you cannot be seen like this!’ He gathered up her nightrail and robe and pushed them into her trembling hands. ‘Make haste, Bea,’ he encouraged impatiently as he pulled his shirt on over his head before turning away.

  Bea felt bereft as she watched Griffin march across the room to the door and leave the library without sparing her so much as a second glance.

  As if he had already forgotten the intimacies the two of them had just shared.

  And perhaps he had. Perhaps men did not feel the same way about such things? Did they not appreciate the vulnerability that occurred inside a woman when she placed her trust, her naked self, so completely into the hands of another human being?

  Certainly Griffin would not have been celibate in the years since his wife’s death and yet he remained unencumbered by a second marriage, which would seem to imply that his affections had never been engaged in any of those liaisons.

  Had Bea been foolish to believe that she was somehow different from the other women he had made love to, and that Griffin held some measure of affection for her?

  Or was it just, in her determination to show Griffin she was not the mouse he believed her to be as well as her need to be with him, that she had deliberately chosen to believe that he cared for her?

  Her memories of her own past might be seriously lacking at present, but still she knew instinctively that men were different from women, in that their physical desires were not necessarily accompanied by the same feelings of affection or love.

  Love?

  Did she love Griffin?

  She certainly cared for him a good deal, and would be very sad to part from him when the time came, but was that love?

  ‘Perhaps now that I have persuaded Pelham to go back to bed you will explain what the hell you are doing here!’ she heard Griffin hiss fiercely from outside in the hallway.

  ‘I would rather we were alone together in a private room before doing that,’ a male voice replied unconcernedly. ‘With the door closed so that we cannot be overheard— Hello, who have we here?’

  Bea viewed the newcomer nervously as he stepped inside the library, one blond eyebrow raised in mocking query as he slowly took in her appearance from the top of her head to her toes.

  Lavender eyes.

  The man had lavender-coloured eyes, Bea realised inconsequentially.

  Bright, wickedly sparkling eyes, set in a face of such aristocratic handsomeness that he was likely to take a woman’s breath away at a glance.

  His eyes were fringed by thick dark lashes, his nose was perfectly straight between high pronounced cheekbones, chiselled lips curved into a speculative smile above a surprisingly determined jaw.

  As tall as Griffin, and almost as broad across the shoulders, the blond-haired gentleman was dressed in the height of fashion, despite the lateness of the hour. His superfine was a perfectly tailored black, his linen snowy white, a diamond pin nestled in the folds of his neckcloth. He had a tapered waist and hips, long legs, the layer of dust on his black boots the only evidence that he had a
lmost certainly arrived here on horseback.

  He turned his quizzical gaze on his host. ‘Griff?’

  ‘Bea, this is my friend Christian Seaton, the Duke of Sutherland,’ Griffin introduced tersely.

  The thing he had dreaded when he’d sent that letter to Maystone, that one of the Dangerous Dukes would hasten to Lancashire, had indeed come to pass. The question was, how much had Maystone imparted regarding the situation here?

  He and Christian had a long-standing affection for each other, having attended Eton together, along with the other Dangerous Dukes, but even so Griffin knew that Christian was everything that he was not. Elegant. Charming. Fashionably dressed, no matter what the occasion.

  Women had been known to swoon at Christian. Sensible women, matronly women, as well as the twittering debutantes who appeared in society every Season.

  And Bea, Griffin noted somewhat sourly, had been unable to take her eyes off the man since he’d appeared in the doorway!

  Was that jealousy Griffin felt towards his friend’s easy charm and good looks?

  Ridiculous.

  And yet those feelings of bad humour persisted as he finished the introduction. ‘Christian, this is my goddaughter, Beatrix.’

  Bea offered Christian a shy smile. ‘I prefer to be called Bea, Your Grace,’ she invited huskily.

  ‘I am pleased to meet you, Bea.’ Christian nodded before turning to look at Griffin with narrowed, mocking eyes. ‘Your goddaughter, Griff? Was that the best you could come up with?’

  Griffin scowled darkly. ‘The situation is not what you have assumed it to be.’

  ‘Maystone has made me fully aware of what the situation is, Griff,’ Christian assured him as he strolled further into the room to take Bea’s hand in his before raising it to his lips. ‘I trust you are now recovered somewhat from your unpleasant ordeal?’

  Griffin’s mouth tightened as he realised that Christian did indeed know exactly how Bea had come to be a guest at Stonehurst Park. Just as he could see, by the sudden wariness in Bea’s expression, she was also aware of Sutherland’s insight into the reason for her presence here.