Page 11 of The Duke’s Christmas Rejection

Soon, her body bucks in the air, her hips undulating up and down as her pained cries reach a higher frenzy. I cannot understand what’s happening, and I long to go to her, to make sure she’s uninjured or daft in the head, but the moment I shift, the library doors slam open, freezing me to the spot.

Even without seeing the massive man that enters, I know him by scent—that alluring mix of leather and smoke. Norhaven strides forward, his eyes locked onto the maid. Relief floods my veins until my fingers begin to throb and my vision hazes. He will know what to do. I’m sure of it.

“Don’t tell me you’re so close to your pinnacle already,” he growls, the sound zipping down to where the maid continues to stroke. “I told you to prepare yourself, not get all the way there.”

“But Your Grace,” she gasps. “I know how you like to tease. I merely wanted to complete one round on my own to make it easier when you join in.”

He steps forward and grips her chin in his grasp, forcing her lips to part. My heart flutters at the rough way he handles her, but for some reason, I’m unable to find it in me to be disgusted by his actions. Instead, I’m intrigued, curious, and more than a little flustered. Jealousy beats at my chest as he handles her, touching her in ways that I would love to indulge in.

My body tingles all over as he shoves his thick fingers in her mouth, forcing them deep enough that I can hear her gag. I should be repulsed. I should be scandalized, but for once, I may find out what it is that happens between men and women in secret. Mama has rebuffed every question, refused to give me any answers, but here, unfolding before me, is the greatest education of my life.

Unfortunately, that quest for knowledge is the only thing keeping me together at the moment. My heart squeezes until it hurts, a physical pain brought about by emotional turmoil. Here she is, a maid, allowed to indulge in things that I have no words for, no concept of, and yet, I, the daughter of a baron, am forced to go without simply because of my station.

Am I not higher than she? Am I not more capable and willing to give him anything he asks? Silent tears drip down my cheeks as I watch the lurid display, both disgusted with myself and filled with such longing that it’s difficult to breathe. My fingers tear at my dress, something to occupy my hands as he touches her, branding her with his desires.

Closing my eyes, I take in a deep breath, forcing my mind to see things clearly, to look at things with a cold, calculated eye. It is because I am the daughter of a baron that I cannot indulge in whatever type of play this is. By rebuffing me, Norhaven has allowed me to continue in society, eligible for some other man to court me.

It’s clear the things he’s doing to her, he’s unable to do to me based on the laws of propriety. Though it ravages my soul that he’s indulging with this maid instead of exploring these passions with me, I cannot deny how fascinating I find it. Shoving the pain and hurt to the furthest recesses of my mind, I look upon the scene with a curious mind, taking what knowledge I can from this elicit fete.

After forcing her to swallow his fingers, he pulls them out, sliding his other hand up and curling around her throat. Even from where I’m hiding, I can hear her pained gasps, her wheezing breaths as he cuts off her air supply. In kind, I too wrap my fingers around my throat, trying to get a sense of what he might be doing to her.

Though I cannot squeeze myself hard enough to deny my body oxygen, just the sensation of my hand around the column of my neck is enough for even more wetness to coat my drawers. I gasp right along with the maid as I draw in ragged breaths. Unbidden, my fingers slide down the front of my gown, grazing my hardened nipples.

Pleasure I’ve never known before zips through my body, enlivening me with just that simple touch. This is simply marvelous. Why on earth would they keep something so amazing out of our grasp?

“Your pleasure is mine,” Norhaven bites out. “I control every bit of you, and that includes the things that make you scream out in release.”

Though he’s saying it to the maid, it feels like he’s saying it to me, explaining why we are not taught the joys of a woman’s body. My satisfaction belongs to my husband, and not me. But still, is there really any harm in learning what I can then practicing when I’m married?

He pulls back, dragging the maid off of the desk, only to whirl her around so that she’s bent over, her naked bottom wagging behind her. “Want me to hurt you, my little pain slut? My whore of avarice?”

His words blister my ears, and though I expect the maid to find her own issue with them, she simply cries out, begging him, beseeching him to harm her. What sort of madness is this?

With strong, powerful strides, Norhaven makes his way around the desk and hunches down, fiddling with something underneath. Soon, he lifts an object that I do not recognize. It’s made of leather, but that’s all I can tell. The forked tongue looks wicked, mimicking the maid’s spread quim. Perhaps it is something to aid her down there.

A loud, thunderous crack meets my ears along with the harsh cry of the maid. Before I can even make sense of what I’m seeing, Norhaven strikes her again, the red angry slash standing out stark against her pale skin. Her bottom appears inflamed, and yet, she cries out, not in pain, but in pleasure.

None of this makes sense. Nothing that’s happening should cause such noises to pour past her lips. Is there something I’m missing? Something I’m still not understanding? Despite the confusion, there is still the undeniable sensation of heat throbbing between my thighs.

Chapter 8

Charles

The maid quivers beneath me, her body slick with sweat as she meets every blow. Undoubtedly, she’s been needing this release for some time, and I have not been able to indulge her. Perhaps after tonight, I’ll be able to persuade her to give up her employment here and join the Rose and Thorne. All her needs and more will be met, and she won’t have to apply herself to menial work to receive it.

“Stroke yourself,” I growl, reaching between us to free the fall of my trousers, allowing the flap to open as the garment sits low on my hips.

She’s so wet, so ready, but still, I want to make her suffer, to impart some of the frustration that broils through me from the interactions with Miss Cynthia. Striking her flesh again, I listen to the delicious wails, watch as more arousal gathers on her lower lips.

As a beta, she’s not nearly as wet as I would like, but that will improve once I have an omega of my own. Unbidden, Miss Cynthia’s face pops into my head again. Her full lips, the pert upturn to her nose, and those luminous green eyes that stared up at me, watering with unshed tears.

Though that’s not the way I wanted to make her cry, seeing them glisten did things to me—still does. Sliding my fingers across the maid’s hot flesh, I picture Miss Cynthia in her place, lying there, taking my aggression as I pour it out onto her willing body. My cock jerks, brushing against the hem of my shirt, dragging a ragged moan from my lips.

Gods, my mind must be truly slipping from me. Amongst the scent of our combined arousal is a faint whiff of something altogether different. Wholly Miss Cynthia. The scent of peony fills the room, but this time, it’s deeper and far more potent. Pulling back, I ignore Melissa’s squirm of need and glance around, nose tipped into the air.

It can’t be my imagination. There’s no way she’s infiltrated my body this much. But try as I might, I can’t find any evidence of her being with us in the room. It would be just like that meddling little omega to hide away, seeing things her delicate eyes should not.

Once more, I apply myself to the maid in front of me, slipping my hand down to smack the swell of her plump lower lips. With each strike, my fingers come away sodden, nearly dripping with her arousal. As I drift them up higher to graze the delicate skin of her bottom hole, that’s when I hear it.