A Duke is Never Enough

by Burke, Darcy

  He drove his finger deep inside her, and she bore down, crying out as her release flooded her senses. Her legs quivered helplessly around him as she rode the tide.

  She had no idea how long it went on, but eventually, he eased her legs from him and laid them flat along the chaise. All she heard was the sound of her heart and blood pounding, a staccato rhythm of satisfaction and joy.

  “I had no idea that was possible.” She opened her eyes to see him standing next to the chaise. Her gaze was instantly drawn to the thick bulge of his sex pressing against his breeches.

  The sight of Sainsbury’s long, thin member flashed in her mind. She closed her eyes to banish the image, then opened them again.

  “Do you need help with your clothing?” he asked.

  Such a thoughtful man. So caring and generous.

  Phoebe sat up and brought her legs around to the same side of the chaise as him. Then she scooted over until she sat directly in front of him. “Not yet. I’d rather help you with yours.”

  He looked down at her, his brow furrowed in question. “I can manage.”

  “I know, but I think I’d like to unbutton your fall myself.” She lifted her hand to his breeches and flicked the first button open.

  “Phoebe.” His nostrils flared, and he put his hand over hers. “Not today.”

  “Yes, today.” She needed to expel the Blackguard from her mind for good. “I need to do this. I showed you mine. Time for you to show me yours.”

  “Fine.” The word was tight and hard. “But you’re only looking.”

  He moved her hand to her lap, then finished what she’d started. With each button he freed, her heart beat faster. Shockingly, desire rippled through her again.

  The fall of his breeches dropped, but his shirt covered what she was trying to see. She lifted her hand again, to move the fabric, but he did it first, lifting the lawn to expose his sex.

  It looked nothing like Sainsbury’s. Thick and long with a dark nest of curls at the base, the flesh appeared like velvet. She needed to know if that was true.

  She glanced up at him, her voice carrying a note of apology wrapped in anticipation. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to touch you.”

  Chapter 10

  Pleasure jolted through Marcus as Phoebe’s hand gently wrapped around his flesh. “You were just supposed to look.” He ground the words out as if he were being tortured. And he supposed he was. He’d been working so hard to keep a rein on himself, to stifle his needs for another time.

  “I did try, but you’re too touchable.”

  He nearly laughed, but he couldn’t while trying to maintain his self-control. He’d been trying so damn hard to take things slow with her. “You aren’t supposed to be doing this.”

  “You said that already.” She slid her hand down his shaft, her attention focused entirely on him.

  He thought of her past experience with that blackguard Sainsbury and felt horrible for enjoying this. She shouldn’t be doing it. Not yet. “Phoebe—”

  “Don’t tell me to stop.” She paused as she brought her hand back up to the tip and looked up at him, her green eyes dark and beautiful. “Unless you really want me to. I want to touch you. I’m enjoying touching you. In fact, I’m considering putting my mouth on you. Is that done?”

  Bloody hell. “Yes, that’s done. But you don’t—”

  He didn’t get the words out because she’d pushed back his foreskin, and put her lips on the head of his cock, kissing him. Then they moved down the side, her softness teasing and coaxing him. As if he needed any help in getting to the edge of release.

  “You should probably tell me what to do,” she said between kisses. “Otherwise, I’ll have to make it up.”

  “You’re doing a fine job so far.” His body, taut with lust, shuddered as she tentatively touched him with her tongue. He caressed the back of her head. “Yes.”

  “Yes?” She used more of her tongue, licking along his length.

  He groaned, unsure of how long he would last. And he didn’t want to surprise her or disgust her, given what she’d endured before. “Phoebe, at some point, I’m going to come.”

  She tipped her head back and looked up at him again. “In my mouth?”

  Oh God, did she want him to? No, he was absolutely drawing the line there. “Not today.” He saw his cravat next to her on the floor. “Hand me my cravat.”

  She did so, then stroked him as she dropped her head once more. “You’ll tell me when?”

  “Yes.” The word drew out on his tongue as she took him back into her mouth. “Phoebe.” He gripped her scalp and took great care not to thrust. It was incredibly difficult.

  Her tongue swirled over his flesh, and he nearly lost himself. Then she sucked, pulling a loud groan from his lips as her hand stroked up and down his shaft.

  He was not going to last. If she took him farther into her mouth, he was done.

  She took him farther into her mouth.

  Holding him firm, she moved her lips down over him, flattening her tongue. Her mouth and hand squeezed around him. His balls tightened, and he gasped. “Phoebe. Move. Just a bit.” He couldn’t help himself. He wanted this from her. He needed it.

  She retreated to the tip, then came back down over him, engulfing his flesh. He watched her suck him, her hand wrapped around his cock, and knew the end was near.

  He closed his eyes and allowed himself to just feel for a thrust or two. Three… Four… That was it. He pulled away from her and pivoted, thrusting himself into the cravat in his hand as his orgasm crashed over him. He grunted as his body trembled with the force of his release.

  When he could grasp hold of his senses, he opened his eyes. Wiping himself clean, he wadded the cravat and tossed it to one of the chairs. Then he buttoned his fall before turning back to her.

  Phoebe sat at the edge of the chaise, her dress back in place as she fought to tie the strings behind her back.

  “Here, let me,” he offered.

  She stood and presented her back. He took care of setting her to rights. “All finished.”

  She turned to face him, her cheeks flushed, her gaze shimmering with contentment. “I hope you don’t mind what I did.”

  “On the contrary, I would walk through fire to experience that again.” Not just the physical gratification of it. More than that, it was her generosity and her sweetness that had enthralled him.

  She laughed. “I can’t imagine that would be necessary.” Her gaze fell on the open neck of his shirt. “Next time, you should take off your shirt.”

  Next time… “I’ll be happy to. Whenever that is.”

  “Hopefully, my mother won’t be with me more than a few days. My father will either come to his senses and forego his investment scheme, or my mother will admit defeat and return home. I do hope it’s the former.”

  He bent to pick up his waistcoat, then pulled it on. “Why is that? Is there something wrong with his scheme?”

  “He’s lost money on two prior investments with this same person.” She began to button his waistcoat for him. It was a rather intimate task, and one that no other woman had performed for him. Surprisingly, he liked it. “Have you ever heard of meeting someone at night in Leicester Square for the purposes of investing?”

  Marcus froze. He put his hands over hers as she fastened the last button. “Leicester Square?”

  She nodded. “My mother said he goes to meet some man there. That’s not how my investments are handled at all.”

  He took her hands in his and pressed his lips together. “Phoebe, this doesn’t sound like a good strategy, particularly if he’s already lost money on prior investments. You said they were with the same person?” Marcus needed to find his bloody cousin.

  “I think so. Mama didn’t know his name, so I can’t say for certain.”

  Marcus looked at her intently. “You must tell him not to invest.”

  “I don’t think he’ll listen to me,” she said wryly. “I tried to offer assistance when I learned the
y were having financial trouble. His pride won’t allow it.”

  The bloody fool. Marcus couldn’t stand by while he lost more money. “I believe this man he’s meeting in Leicester Square—rather, that man’s employer—is a swindler.”

  Phoebe sucked in a breath. “You’ve heard of him?” She narrowed her eyes suddenly. “Is this the same man who cheated Arabella’s father and the former Duke of Halstead?”

  “You know about that?” He let go of her hands and exhaled, then turned to pick up his coat. “Unfortunately, the swindler is my cousin.”

  She touched his arm. “The man you fought with in the park the day we met?”

  “Yes.” He let out an ironic chuckle. “He’s an utter scoundrel, but if I hadn’t fought with him that day, I wouldn’t have met you.”

  Her lips curved into sultry smile. “Then he’s not completely horrid.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid he is. He’s gone missing. I’ve been trying desperately to find him—to stop him. Now, that’s more important than ever.”

  She stepped toward him and curled her arms around his waist. “Thank you. I’ll try to talk my father out of it.”

  Marcus hated that he’d already lost money to Drobbit. He couldn’t let that happen again. Only it seemed imminent. Which meant… “If your father is planning to make another investment, he would know where to find my cousin—or at least his assistant, Osborne.”

  She looked up at him with a shrug. “I suppose? I could try to find out, if that would help.”

  “It would, thank you. I need to put a stop to Drobbit’s villainy.”

  She pulled her hands to his front and slid them up his chest. Then she tucked them into the collar of his shirt so her bare hands were against his flesh. Desire swirled within him. He was sorry she had to go.

  To punctuate that sentiment, she stood on her toes and kissed him, her lips and tongue teasing him into a half cockstand as if he hadn’t just reveled in a powerful release a short time ago. It was she who ended the embrace, stepping back from him with heat and desire in her gaze.

  “I must return home.”

  He wanted nothing more than to take her upstairs to his chamber and lock them both inside for the rest of the day. Forever, maybe.

  He bent to retrieve her gloves, which he’d dropped at some point after they’d come to this room. Then he fetched her hat. “Yes. Keep me apprised of your house guest.”

  She laughed softly. “I will.” She glanced at his coat as she took her gloves from him. “I don’t suppose you can properly dress given the state of your cravat.”

  “No.” He grinned, then turned to open the door to the drawing room. He held it for her. “After you.”

  She walked past him, then waited for him to follow. “Won’t your retainers see your…state and conclude what we’ve been about?”

  “Perhaps.” Probably, but he didn’t care. “They are incredibly discreet.”

  “Because you bring women here regularly.” The words chilled him on their own, but she said it so pragmatically that he flinched.

  He moved closer to her. “I don’t.”

  He had, however, hosted the occasional party that often included sexual activities. Just a few weeks ago, he’d hosted a party with courtesans for the purpose of drawing Drobbit and Osborne out. It had worked. Hell, he’d do it again, but since Drobbit knew he was aware of his schemes, Marcus doubted his cousin would come within ten feet of his house.

  “To be fair, you didn’t bring me here either.”

  He took her hand. “Phoebe, I can’t pretend I haven’t been with other women. You know my reputation. It’s not inaccurate.”

  “Are there any now? Other women.”

  “No.” And there’d never been one like her. A virgin with whom he planned to have an affair. Actually, weren’t they already having one? He gazed down at her, unblinking. “There is only you.”

  Her eyes heated with pleasure. “Good. I don’t like to share.”

  He pulled her against his chest. “Me neither.” He kissed her, a hungry claiming of her mouth that declared his intent to take her—and no one else.

  After several minutes, they parted, and she rested her head against his chest with a sigh. “I really must go. My hat?” She exchanged her gloves with him for her hat, and when she had the latter fixed atop her head, she took the gloves back, swiftly donning them.

  He offered her his arm and escorted her downstairs.

  “I’ll let you know when I’ve spoken to my father.”

  “Yes, do.” He resisted the urge to kiss her again. Instead, he watched her as she departed and didn’t close the door entirely until she was in her coach and it was moving away.

  He turned to see Dorne watching him with a peculiar expression. “Whatever you’re thinking, just keep it to yourself.”

  The butler inclined his head. “Of course, my lord. May I say that Miss Lennox seems charming?”

  “She is.” She was also intelligent, witty, delightful, kindhearted, and an utter joy to spend time with. And the things she could do with her tongue…

  Marcus dashed up the stairs to fetch his abandoned clothing from the music room. Once there, he was assaulted with the musky smell of their sex. He lingered.

  When at last he left, he turned his mind to Drobbit and the urgency he now had in stopping the man. It was time to tell Harry everything he knew, Drobbit be damned.

  And when he got his hands on his cousin, the man was going to be very sorry he’d chosen Phoebe’s father as his next victim.

  * * *

  After three days with her mother in residence, Phoebe was at her wit’s end. She’d come to realize one of the things she loved best about her independent life—she didn’t have to live with her parents.

  Mama had taken up a position in the garden room, Phoebe’s favorite place. There, she took breakfast, read the paper, ate luncheon, did her needlework, wrote correspondence, and talked. And talked. Phoebe had forgotten just how much the woman liked to talk.

  And then there was the fact that Phoebe wasn’t able to pursue her affair with Marcus. She’d considered paying another call and telling her mother she was visiting Lavinia. However, that idea had evaporated when Lavinia had gone into labor the day before yesterday. She and Beck were now the proud parents of a baby boy.

  Then Phoebe had planned to say she would visit Jane. Before she could do so, Jane and her mother had arrived. Mama had invited them, unbeknownst to Phoebe. She’d begun to feel as if her house wasn’t actually hers.

  The worst part was that Mama had dragged her to church yesterday in the hope of seeing her father. He hadn’t gone. Plenty of other people had, however, and Phoebe had been keenly aware of the derisive looks and whispered remarks. Mama, for her part, had seemed oblivious, and for that, Phoebe was grateful.

  So here she was, back at her parents’ house in the hope that she could convince her father to make amends.

  Foster welcomed her and immediately asked how her mother was faring.

  “She’s quite well,” Phoebe said. “Though, she misses Papa.” While she was still angry with him, it was clear from the amount of time she spent talking about him that she was ready to come home. Even if she didn’t realize it.

  “I came to see if I can’t find a way to smooth things between them. Will you tell my father I’m here?”

  “He is in a meeting, but I will let him know,” Foster said. “Do you want to wait in the sitting room?”

  “I will, thank you.”

  Before she turned, Foster said, “I know you’ve been keen to determine how Harkin and Meg are faring since they were let go. Both have found positions. Harkin has become maid to Lady Knox, and Meg is working in, er, Mr. Sainsbury’s household.” He glanced away with a bit of discomfort as he said Sainsbury’s name.

  Phoebe’s stomach tightened. “I’m pleased to hear about Harkin.”

  “But not about Meg?” Foster’s brow furrowed. “Should we be concerned about her employment?”

  Summoning
a weak smile, Phoebe said, “I’m sure it’s fine.” She’d check on Meg to make sure.

  Phoebe made her way toward the sitting room, her mind churning. She nearly ran into a man who’d apparently just left her father’s study. He was very tall and carried a walking stick. “Pardon me,” he said with a deep voice before continuing on his way.

  Pausing on the threshold of the sitting room, she watched as he went to the entry hall. Then she turned and circuited the room as she waited for her father. She frowned halfway around, noticing that a few things were missing.

  Papa came in, and it seemed a dark cloud followed him. Deep creases lined his forehead, and his brows were pitched at a sharp angle over his hazel eyes. “Is your mother with you?”

  “No. Papa, have you sold some things, such as the silver box that sat on the mantel?”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  Phoebe folded her arms. “Who was the man I saw leaving your study?”

  “Also none of your concern.”

  She frowned. “I will always have concern for you. And for Mama. She needs to come home.”

  “Does she want to?”

  “Of course.” Deep down, Phoebe was certain of that. “Just as you want her to.”

  “Is she going to harangue me about what I do with my money?”

  “Is it so terrible if she does?” Phoebe unfolded her arms and took a few steps toward him. “Papa, she’s worried about losing more money to this mad investment scheme.”

  “She called it mad?”

  “No. I was being hyperbolic.” And she shouldn’t. Not with him, and not now. “She has a right to be concerned. You’ve had two investments go poorly, you’re selling things, and you’ve had to let retainers go. There’s no shame in admitting things didn’t go as planned. If you must invest, do something different. Don’t use this same person.”

  His eyes sparked with anger. “I’ll do whatever I please.”