Geek Girls Don't Date Dukes gg-2

by Gina Lamm

  “Good Lord.”

  She stood naked in front of him, her arms at her sides, not bothering to hide her exquisite nudity. He did not know whether to stumble backward to look his fill or to press her full against him.

  She was so lovely. Her full, high breasts pouted and teased him with their erect nipples. Her waist sloped delicately, flaring out to beautifully shaped hips. He could happily stare at her all evening, but she clearly had other notions.

  “It’s your turn,” she said, stepping close and unbuttoning his breeches. “I want to see you too.”

  He didn’t move as she bent to lower his breeches. He couldn’t. He was transfixed by the sight of her delectable bottom as she bent over in front of him. It was too much pleasure for a man, it truly was.

  “Oh, Avery,” she whispered, kneeling in front of him. “You’re beautiful.”

  Before he could ask to what she was referring, her soft hands had wrapped around his manhood. She pressed a kiss to the weeping tip, and he fisted his hands at his sides. Control.

  “Can I suck you?”

  The image of her sweet mouth wrapped around his rod nearly drove him beyond the brink. He shook his head, his hair tickling his shoulders.

  “I would not last if you did.”

  “Later, then,” she whispered, and pressed another kiss to the swollen head. He titled his head back, throat working.

  Her hands ran up his body, from his groin to his abdomen to his chest, winding at last around his back. Her nipples dragged across his chest, her belly pressed against his erection.

  “Touch me,” she groaned against his throat. He was more than happy to comply.

  Starting at her hips, he indulged his fingers in the direction they wanted to travel, upward toward her breasts. His hands closed over the sweet, soft mounds, lightly flicking over their erect tips. She pressed against him, smiling as he touched her.

  “Like that,” she whispered, rubbing her hips against his.

  Something in his lust-filled brain snapped, and he stopped thinking. He acted.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he directed. Once she obeyed, he cupped her buttocks and lifted. Obligingly, she wrapped her thighs around his waist. He nearly wept when her slick mound made contact with his erection.

  He moved backward and sat on the bed, leaving her straddling his lap. In this position, it was easy to lean forward and capture one of her beautiful nipples in his mouth.

  She tangled her fingers in his hair as he sucked, his tongue flicking against the bud, his teeth grazing it. Her hips writhed against him, bathing his hardness in her sweet slickness. It would be so easy to slip inside her this way, to claim her as his. But he wanted to make this last.

  He moved to her other breast as her hands roamed his body. He forgot all his bruises, forgot all the reasons why they should not be doing this. None of that mattered when her hands wrapped around him again, moving up and down in a rhythmic motion that drove him mad.

  “Leah,” he whispered after releasing her nipple from his mouth with a soft pop, “I cannot last much longer if you persist in that.”

  “I can’t last much longer either.” She seemed winded, her eyes dark and lips swollen. “Feel me, Avery. See what you do to me.”

  She slipped from his lap and stretched full-length on the bed.

  Could there be anything so beautiful on earth?

  “Please touch me, Avery.” She’d fisted her hands into his sheets, and her breath was coming much quicker. “The way you’re looking at me is driving me crazy.”

  “How am I looking at you?” He could not resist asking the question, though he could empathize with her desperation.

  “Like you want to devour me.” Her breath came in gasps as her eyes darkened.

  He did. He wanted to taste her. Kneeling between her legs, he parted her folds and lowered his head to her. The scent was intoxicating, sweet and musky and womanly. He could breathe her in forever, but if he did that, he’d never know her taste. And that was a pleasure he’d not forgo.

  He licked the lower part of her folds and moved his way up as her hips writhed against him. When his lips closed around that swollen nub at the apex of her mound, she gave a mewling cry.

  “There! Oh my God, right there, Avery.” The sheets twisted in her grip.

  “As you wish,” he breathed against her hot, wet flesh, and then complied.

  Twenty-Two

  Avery seemed determined to coax her to heaven with his mouth alone. But she wanted much more than his mouth.

  She got a portion of her wish when his finger slid inside her. Her muscles spasmed around it involuntarily, and she let out a long, low moan.

  “Are you trying to drive me crazy?” she panted.

  He gave her a wicked smile as he inserted another finger. “Perhaps.”

  “Please, Avery,” she whispered as she pinched her own nipples, wishing he was close enough to kiss. “Don’t make me wait.”

  She lifted her arms to him and he stretched full-length atop her. Their mouths and hands were suddenly everywhere. They rolled and tangled, tasting, touching, licking, and sucking. Leah wrapped her legs around his hips and bit his shoulder.

  “Now,” she said, tangling her hands in his long hair. “I need you inside me.”

  He lifted himself above her, a fine sheen of sweat coating them both in the candlelight. “Are you sure?”

  She gripped him and guided him to her entrance. “Yes, Avery.”

  They moaned together as he slid slowly, inexorably home. Leah’s eyes flew open as he began a rhythm that tapped the deepest places within her.

  She dug her nails into his hips as he drove into her. His deep breaths, mingled with almost animalistic growls, filled her with a deep sense of pride, want, and something else she couldn’t name.

  He looked down at her for a moment, then their mouths connected. Leah took his tongue into her mouth, sucking it in time with his thrusts. His hands cupped her ass, bringing her higher and tighter, forcing his thrusts deeper into her.

  “Avery,” she gasped against his mouth.

  He buried his head beside hers and continued the rhythm that would either make her come or kill her with desire, and at this point, Leah didn’t really care which. He’d made her feel like a goddess, and now his thick heat lay hard in her channel, so deep she thought he touched her womb.

  He reached between them and pressed against her clit.

  She bit back her scream as her world exploded. Her inner walls gripped him as she kissed him, hard, trying like hell to make the moment last forever.

  This was her man.

  This was the one she’d been sent to find.

  * * *

  His body felt light, almost as if he could float away with no cares at all.

  He was still sheathed within her heat. She held him so tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him as if she’d never let him go.

  He held her tightly, bracing himself on his forearms so as not to crush her. He never wanted to let her go either.

  “As much as I hate to make you move, I think maybe you’d better.” Her voice was thick, slurred against his chest. She pressed a kiss there before he lifted free.

  “My apologies,” he said, running a hand down her leg. She was softer than linen, warmer than summertime. And she’d shared herself with him.

  Before he could voice any of this, she reached out and traced a particularly deep bruise on his ribs.

  “I don’t want to kill the mood, but I need to know.” She looked into his eyes, concern threading her words. “How did you get all these bruises?”

  He looked down at his hands, knuckles scarred and callused. She’d shared her all with him. Could he deny her similar intimate knowledge of his own life? He slammed his eyes shut. Even now, after what they’d shared, he could spare her the pain of association with him. If she loved the duke, she’d be safe.

  “Before I tell you, I must know.” He gripped her hands fervently. “What are your feelings for the duke?”
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  Her jaw went slack, her eyes wide.

  “I cannot believe those words just came out of your mouth!”

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, a flag of golden hair trailing behind her as she went.

  “Well, I have a right to know,” he said, rising from the bed as he tried to tamp his anger. “Do you still intend to let him court you?”

  She stilled, holding her petticoat in front of her like a shield. “You don’t really know me at all, Avery Russell.” She resumed her dressing, furious.

  He had to stop her. He had to tell her. But would she spurn him?

  In the end, it would not matter. He could no more have her than he could have the throne of England.

  His words hurtled free like a bird escaping a cage. “I fight.”

  Her movement ceased again. “What?”

  “Pugilistic tournaments. Boxing, if you’d rather.” His palms were suddenly drenched with sweat. It was only when he tried to dry them on his breeches that he realized he was wearing none.

  “But why?” She crossed to him, pressing her palm against his chest. “Don’t valets make enough money? Is it for kicks, like a hobby?”

  He looked down into her wide blue eyes. Despite her bravado and knowledge of a world so foreign to him, she was really quite innocent of the harsh realities of his life.

  “The medicine for my aunt,” he began, but a sharp rap on the door interrupted him.

  Leah’s face lit with alarm.

  “Behind the bureau,” he mouthed at her, motioning as he grabbed his breeches. “Quickly.”

  She flew on silent feet, disappearing as a voice called out with another knock. “Russell?”

  He lowered his brows as he opened the door. “Henrietta? Whatever are you doing here?”

  She looked past him into the room, greedy eyes searching for something. “I was going to the kitchens for a light. Our fire had gone out.” She turned to him, a knowing smile on her face. “But I heard voices coming from somewheres over here. You wouldn’t know about that, would you, Russell?”

  “You must be mistaken,” he said. “You know female maids are not allowed in this part of the house. Now please remove yourself from my chambers.”

  Henrietta tried to push past him and enter his room, but he blocked her way with his body.

  She delivered the killing blow with innocent aplomb. “I merely wished to greet my dear old friend Ramsey.”

  His stomach sank, but he fought to keep his face neutral. “You are incorrect. Do not spread your lies further.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but he shut the door in her face.

  He fought the urge to slump against it. He must get Miss Ramsey away before Henrietta’s suspicions became convictions. Thomas Prachett was sure to have a spy hidden amongst the Granville House servants. With his ear pressed against the door, he sighed in relief as Henrietta’s footsteps disappeared down the hallway.

  He rounded the corner of the bureau. “Leah?”

  She had curled up in a tiny ball on the floor. Her hands covered her eyes, and she shook like she’d been beaten.

  Heart lit with alarm, he bent low and scooped her into his arms. “What is the matter?”

  She pointed with a trembling finger. “Spider.”

  Guilt pummeled him straight in the chest. He bore her away as quickly as he could, depositing her on the bed.

  “I am so sorry,” he whispered against her hair.

  “Can you get rid of the spider first?” Her voice was thin.

  Reluctantly, he rose from the bed and returned to the corner she’d been forced to hide in, swallowing her terror as he lied to Henrietta. Not only had he besmirched her name and reputation, he’d forced her to cower like a criminal as her fears overtook her. He was a bastard.

  The spider was nowhere to be seen. After a thorough examination, and only a bit more regret at the deception he’d enact on her, he stomped softly on the floorboards.

  “Did you get it?”

  He nodded as he returned to the bedside. Though he desperately wanted to hold her again, soothe her fears and ease her worries, he knew he could not. He stood over her, looking down as her shivers eased.

  This was no life for her. He was a servant, with no home or funds to support her. Every groat he wrenched from his hardscrabble life went directly to his aunt’s upkeep. How could he doom her to a life of wanting? Of domestic servitude, when clearly she was used to a life much more like that she’d enjoyed at Lady Chesterfield’s? And Prachett could not be held at bay forever. Though she hadn’t seemed disgusted at his former occupation, she would be at the dishonesty inherent in his dealings with Prachett. And once she learned that, she would then revile him as everyone else did.

  He could not have her. Though the words lanced his heart with their brutality, he knew there was no alternative.

  “You must leave. If you are discovered here…”

  She sat upright with a cross expression. “Avery, we have to talk about that. Listen, I…”

  He pressed a finger to his lips. Footsteps grew louder as they approached.

  “Henrietta is returning,” he mouthed. “Be silent.” The hurt in her eyes almost did him in, but he hardened his heart and turned away. After three heavy breaths, he turned back.

  She was gone, his window open.

  He bolted for the casement and leaned out. She was halfway down the trellis already.

  “Leah.” His whisper was rife with the anger he wished he could roar at the thoughtless chit. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving. Isn’t it obvious?” She let out a small cry as her foot missed its hold, and he fought the urge to leap out after her. The trellis could not hold their combined weight, he was certain.

  “Do not be so rash,” he said, gripping the hair atop his head in frustrated fear. “I never meant for you to—”

  “I know that, you doofus.” She jumped the last few feet to the earth, stumbling as she righted herself. The roar in his ears quieted somewhat as she glared up at him.

  “I don’t want to cause you any problems, but we have to talk. Soon.”

  She turned and walked toward the street, her dark cloak quickly hiding her from his worried, watchful gaze.

  “The little idiot,” he snarled as he threw his shirt and boots on, throwing open his door and bolting down the stairs after her. “To think she walked alone in the streets and climbed the damned trellis three stories up. I’ve a mind to throttle her.”

  But as he threw open the kitchen door and sprinted after her, he knew that while there were many, many things he’d like to do to her, throttling her was not one of them.

  Thoughtless, beautiful fool.

  Twenty-Three

  Leah kept looking over her shoulder all the way back to Lady Chesterfield’s house. She had the odd feeling that someone was following her. But even though she kept watch, she could never see anyone.

  It was probably Avery, wishing he could kick her ass for sneaking into his bedroom and nearly getting him caught with his pants down.

  It was pure pleasure to kick off her boots and flop into bed with a sigh. She stared at the ceiling, wondering what tonight had meant for Avery. Had it clarified the feelings in his heart the way it had for hers?

  She rolled over onto her belly, bunching the pillow beneath her chin. When she was younger, she’d liked nothing better than getting lost in a book, a movie, a video game. When her life was more interesting, like when things with Kevin were heating up, she left her escapist life behind and enjoyed living in reality. But when things had fallen apart, she’d run to those comfortable old friends immediately, drowning herself in the distraction.

  Avery was confusing but exciting. Would he get tired of her too? Would he want to come back to the twenty-first century with her? If not, she’d be back to burying herself in her apartment with nothing but Mario and Mr. Darcy for company.

  Her dreams swirled with the worries she couldn’t leave behind even in unconsciousness.r />
  * * *

  Avery awoke with a sense of foreboding.

  With a steadying breath, he rose to his feet and crossed the room. A small square of paper lay innocently by the crack at the bottom of the door. The plain, rough paper crinkled under his hands as he unfolded it. In the moon’s predawn glow, he read it.

  Russell,

  Your lady friend, or should I say Miss Ram, visited you quite late last night. Terrible things can happen to a young lady on the streets of London after dark.

  The Swansdown is set. You know what to do.

  Prachett

  Avery gripped the note so tightly that the paper ripped.

  There was no question of obeying Prachett now. No matter what it cost him. He’d do anything to keep Leah safe.

  Even lose his own soul.

  * * *

  The carriage bounced along, making Lady Chesterfield’s ostrich feathers wave excitedly. Leah sat across from her, glumness hanging over her like Eeyore’s little black raincloud.

  It had been almost two weeks since she’d seen Avery. Two freaking weeks. During that time, the duke had been their almost constant companion, showing up at every function she and Lady Chesterfield attended. He’d sat between her and Lady Chesterfield at the theatre, the two of them making The Taming of the Shrew much more about the societal tête–à–tête than it was about the performance. Leah despised people that talked during movies. Plays? Oh, her blood had bubbled like acid that night.

  Too bad they hadn’t gotten her subtle hints. She couldn’t have been outright rude, or Lady Chesterfield would have either passed out or killed her, neither of which appealed to Leah.

  Garden parties, balls, soirees—he was there for them all. It was probably a good thing, but Leah had a hard time viewing it that way. To hear Lady Chesterfield talk, the rest of the ton had had a much harder time swallowing the Leah-is-the-cousin-of-the-late-baronet story than His Grace had. The Duke of Granville’s attention had gone a long way in convincing the rest of society to accept Leah the way they had. Lady Chesterfield couldn’t be happier. She smiled, she laughed, she flirted with the duke. Leah was beginning to wonder why her patroness wouldn’t admit she was halfway in love with the duke herself. It was obvious to everyone except Lady Chesterfield.