Page 12 of The Duke’s Christmas Rejection

We are certainly not alone. Off in a shadowed corner, the sound of sliding books catches my attention. Melissa is too far gone to notice, but I do. Turning my gaze, I stare at the spot, barely making out the small form huddled there. My brain wasn’t playing tricks on me after all.

Miss Cynthia is indeed watching us, and based on the delicious scent wafting towards me, she’s enjoying it. Such a scandalous, deviant little omega, to not have made herself known the minute Melissa started touching herself inappropriately.

So she likes to watch, does she? I wonder how she would fare at Rose and Thorne. Would she enjoy seeing the other submissives taken in hand? Would it make her sopping as she squirms on my lap, her cunny crying out for my cock as I deny her release?

Eyes boring into the inky darkness, I pull away from the maid, refusing to button my clothing. “Right yourself, Melissa, and leave me.”

She pauses, her body rigid. “Your Grace?”

“I will not repeat myself.” With a flurry of movement, she pulls up her drawers and ties them before smoothing down her dress. “Tell Lady Penelope that you are there to assist her in whatever she needs done, then return to your duties. If you have a need to find release, you have my permission.”

Not giving her another glance, I prowl forward, my balls drawing up at the soft gasp coming from the corner. Her arousal is far stronger now, tempered with a bite of fear—the most delectable combination. Whatever shall I do with my wayward little omega?

Pausing, I pull back, detesting the fact that my brain dared to slip and think of her as mine. She will never be my anything. She can’t be. And after tonight, she will never see me again. Not if I have anything to do with it.

Once she’s married off to some nice baron or viscount, I might consider coming back into her company, but right now, it’s far too dangerous. Lips tilting up into a feral smirk, I walk back closer to the desk, back in the light where she can see me better.

“I know you’re here, Miss Cynthia. I can smell the scent of your honeyed quim from across the room. Come and face me.”

Moments go by where all I can hear is her haggard breath. No longer does the room smell of blooming flowers and elicit words scribbled in secret. Now, it takes on the taint of true terror. I want the omega to be uneasy, but never this afraid.

“I will not harm you if that is your concern.”

“Y- You won’t use your,” she pauses as if searching for the word. “Tawse?” The plaintive voice cries out amidst even more shuffling, no doubt remembering the spectacle Sophia made earlier at the mention of that implement.

Unable to contain myself, a hoarse laugh erupts from my throat, surprising even me. “Not just yet.” I hold up the implement in question. “Just so you have a visual to go with the word, this is a Scottish tawse.” Shaking my head, I make a grand gesture of putting it away. “I am now unarmed. Come and face me.”

A few tense moments go by, and soon, she comes out of her hiding spot, face as red as any rose I’ve ever seen. How I want to slide my fingers across those crimson cheeks, brushing away any errant tears that might fall. Miss Cynthia stands before me, her body tense as she wrings her fingers in front of her.

“Am I ruined?”

Those three words, spoken with such heartache rip at me, tugging at my defenses. At least one thing is certain, however. She didn’t plan this to trap me, forcing me to regard her even more. If only she wasn’t the daughter of a baron. If only our stations didn’t require such separation.

Now that I know she is inclined towards my brand of possession, the only thing keeping us apart is duty. And for the first time in my life, I curse the Alpha King that makes me wear so heavy a crown. It doesn’t matter that Lewis has resigned himself to this fate. I never dreamed of such a life.

When I planned to settle down, it was going to be with a woman I loved and not a woman who gave me what my title and lands needed. Staring down at the little omega, her eyes welling up as she contemplates her fate, it seals it for me. I will allow one small indulgence, but after that, I will quit myself of my family and her for as long as it takes.

“As long as no one sees us, and your lips remain silent, you will not be ruined. What I’m about to do, you must never tell a soul, or else, you will never marry someone of any station. Is that clear?”

She nods, her eyes somehow even wider and far more innocent than they have any right to be.

“I want your words, Miss Cynthia. Be sure to enunciate them clearly for me.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she whispers, sinking into a low curtsy.

Blackmail, pure and simple. A threat to keep her quiet as I slake my lusts. I’m the lowest form of blackguard, a cad of the highest degree, and yet, I cannot find it within me to care. If I am to leave her, at least I will part knowing she has the knowledge necessary to not be alarmed when she does, in fact, marry someone else.

The infuriating thought alone is almost enough to make me flaccid, yet just staring at Miss Cynthia, studying the curve of her cheek, the heightened color in her face… It’s enough to keep me rock solid. Peering down at the impressionable omega, I tug the ends of my shirt out of my pants, allowing them to dangle to the side. Jealousy beats at my chest, causing my vision to waver for a moment, but I swallow it down.

“But, Your Grace,” she gasps, averting her eyes.

“No,” I growl out, infusing my iron will into my voice. “You will look at me as I pleasure myself. I want you to see what it is you do to me. I want you to observe the reason I cannot be in your presence. You vex me, my dear girl, in a way that no other omega has.”

Sliding my hand lower, I push back my shirt, revealing my staff to her. Instead of breaking down as I expect her to do, she lowers herself, staring at my member from every angle.

“Y- Your Grace?”

“Yes?” I hedge, not knowing where her line of inquiry will lead.