Page 40 of The Duke’s Unwilling Bride

He slides his fingers up the crack of my bottom and along my spine, drawing out soft whimpers I’ve never heard leave my throat before. They’re quiet but needy, insistent, and completely wanton. Soon, he’s at my head, his fingers working at the buttons in the front. All of a sudden, I don’t want to know. I don’t want my fears confirmed.

But he doesn’t stop until all that covers him is a flap of fabric. Before I’m fully prepared, he pushes the breeches down, slowly lowering them until his member springs out, nearly hitting me in the face. It’s nothing like what Cynthia showed me. In fact, it’s far larger, making both my stomach clench and more of that maddening wetness to grow.

The duke tips his nose up into the air, scenting it. This time, it feels far too intimate. My cheeks blaze as a lecherous smile crosses his lips. “Do you like what you see? How does this compare with what you’ve studied?”

“I wasn’t shown pictures, Your Grace. And what I’ve seen of animals has only been the mounting process. Not what comes before or after. I’ve never seen- that is I couldn’t imagine. I-”

“Enough, Teresa. I’m not interrogating you. Not yet.”

Sighing, I rest against the bench, turning my face so I can rest my cheek against the cool leather. But he won’t even allow me that respite. Fisting his fingers into my hair, he turns my face again until I am once more forced to look upon his member.

I study it, taking in what looks to be soft skin covering his hardness. Veins wrap around the length, all converging downward. And that’s when I look upon what I once thought was a tumor. It seems to grow even as I stare at it, and the duke groans, as if in pain. My gaze flies up to his face.

His eyes are screwed shut; his features are hard, like chiseled stone. “You seem to be in distress, Your Grace. How may I be of assistance?” Though I’d rather let him deal with whatever this is that ails him, my heart cannot abide thinking I’m causing him this discomfort somehow.

“Open your mouth.”

“But I-”

He looks down at me, his eyes nearly dark as his pupils eat up his irises. “I said open your mouth. Obey me, little omega. This is your last chance before I force you.”

My lips part as I continue to stare up at him, not sure what’s about to happen. The hard beat of my pulse thunders through my brain until that’s all I can hear. My breaths come out in ragged pants as he shifts his hips closer, tormenting me with that maddening mixture of cedar and spice.

And then, as I watch, the length of him jerks and pearly fluid beads at the top. The warm, tantalizing scent of vanilla wafts from his body, and for the moment, all I can think about is licking him to see if he’s just as sweet as he smells. I don’t have to wait long, because his fingers once more flex in my hair as he holds me still before guiding himself past my lips.

“Mind your teeth, little omega,” he murmurs, stroking the side of my face. On instinct, I pull back, but his hand holds firm. “No getting away from me now. Stick out your tongue so I may punish that naughty organ for continuing to spew lies and profanities when I’ve ordered you not to.”

Helpless to resist the growl in his voice, I do as he commands, not even bothering to mention that my momentary slip-up was long gone, so far out of my mind I nearly forgot I said anything. I stick my tongue out as far as I can, my body yearning for something, anything. He pulls his hips back and grips his length before rubbing the tip across, flooding my senses with both his scent and taste. It’s unlike anything I’ve had before, and I find it almost impossible to categorize.

My scientifically inclined mind searches out all the nuances. It’s creamy like a dessert, and yet the flavor is not nearly as sweet as how he smells. There’s a bitterness to it, a deeper, more savory taste. Either way, my body craves it, and unable to help myself, I lap at the tip until I’m rewarded with more.

Again, the duke groans, and I go to pull back, worried I’ve somehow injured him. He holds my head still and guides his length back into my mouth, thrusting inside with a shallow rocking of his hips. Slowly, inexorably, he pushes forward until my lips stretch around him.

“Zounds what you do to me,” he curses, sawing in and out, filling my mouth completely. Soon, he pushes in a bit more until the tip grazes the back of my throat. It constricts as I gag, but he pulls out before the contents of my stomach leave me. “I will teach you how to take me until I’m completely down your throat. But that is another lesson for another day.”

Pulling out completely, he leaves me there, my mouth still agape as I await his member once more. I hate what I’m becoming. My insides twist and turn as I wait for his pleasure, my body attuned to his in a way I never thought would be possible.

Instead of putting himself back into my mouth, he pulls up on his breeches and circles back around to the back of the bench. Moments go by where there’s nothing. No sound, no movement… nothing.

He just stands there. I arch up and look over my shoulder, watching as he just stares at me, his expression turning feral. Slowly, he tips his gaze back up to mine, locking me in as his hand reaches forward.

He touches me, his fingers grazing over the lower part of me until I can’t help but moan. Still, he watches me, his gaze never faltering as his fingers slide backward, notching at my entrance. Everything clenches in anticipation, but he never moves. He just stands there looking at me.

CHAPTER 20

Joseph

Her sapphire eyes stare up at me in anticipation, and even though a light tendril of unease encompasses the room, her body is still dripping wet. For some reason, I don’t completely believe her story about watching animals as her means of education, and yet, she still seems so shy, so unsure of herself—the hallmarks of a virgin. Possibly I’m still too angry to see her as anything other than a lying menace.

As loath as I am to admit it, there’s a soft spot in my heart growing for her despite my best efforts to keep her at arm’s length. No doubt that spot resides at the base of my hard cock and is nothing more than lust rather than tenderness. At least, that’s the lie I keep telling myself.

Even with all the lies, even with the biting acid of her words, there’s still a part of me that wants to take care of her, to shower her with the physical affection that only an Alpha with experience in bringing pleasure, such as myself, can give her. It’s not love. I know myself enough to know it’s not that.

More likely, it’s just a passing curiosity, a morbid fascination with a woman so unlike the type I would have chosen to be my wife. She’s far bolder and more outspoken than the meek omegas that have caught my eye in the past. She’s a brazen little thing, but then, that’s part of what makes her so alluring. It’s the taming I crave, almost more than the woman herself.

Studying her ample backside, I pull my hand away, reaching down to stroke my length, knowing full well the vixen is watching me. Before now, I never considered myself an exhibitionist, and yet, as her eyes follow the movements of my hand, I want nothing more than to stroke myself off under her intelligent gaze. No doubt the little bluestocking is taking notes, filing away every minute motion, every gasp, every grunt.

Hopefully, she’ll take this lesson to heart, learning what I like and applying herself to pleasing me. It’s the only way she’ll ever even hope to attain something akin to forgiveness for her myriad of actions. Shifting my hips back and forth, I jut up into my fist, groaning as my knot begins to swell.