Page 13 of The Duke’s Christmas Rejection

“Does it hurt?”

Chuckling, I grip my fingers around the base, choking my cock as I tip my head back and moan. “Not in the slightest. In fact, by touching myself like so, or in other ways that you will discover once you are wed, it feels downright amazing.”

She pulls back, studying my moves as if there is to be an exam afterward. Having her watch me like this is an erotic thrill I never knew I wanted to experience. In all my years of indulging in the solitary vice with just my hand and imagination, this is by far the most pleasurable. I can see it in her expression, the curious wonderment as her eyes drift up and down with my movements, that it’s appealing to her as well.

Groaning, I tip my head back, pumping in earnest as I keep the image of her in the forefront. I must make this quick, otherwise the chance of us being discovered rises dramatically. I want to stop, to pull away and extricate myself from the situation, but I am arrested by the simple act of hearing the uneven timber of her breathing, the scent of her arousal that perfumes the air.

Soon, however, the scent morphs, turning into something far more sour, something akin to fear. “Your Grace,” she gasps. Looking down, I watch as her eyes grow, her expression horrified as she stares at me. This isn’t the reaction I want at all. “Are you ill?”

Pausing, I grip myself and tilt my head to the side. “No, you silly girl. Whyever would you think that?”

Finger trembling, she points at my knot before looking back up at me. “I- I have beheld animals with a similar affliction, though never situated between their thighs. Unfortunately, they had to be put down.” After a moment or two, she takes in a dramatic breath. “Are you to die? Is that why you wish to not marry? To relieve me of the burden of becoming a widow?”

I stand there, mouth agape as tears start to gather in her eyes. “Of all the-” Words escape me as I tuck my flagging member into my pants, the mood thoroughly ruined by the despair that’s flowing off of her. “Now, more than ever, I detest the fact that omegas are kept in the dark. “I am as healthy as ever.”

“Was it from the war then? Were you injured?”

She peers up at me with such unabashed worry that for a moment, I want nothing more than to scoop her into my arms and kiss every errant thought from her head.

“No,” I murmur, tucking in my shirt and buttoning my fall. This foolishness has gone on for long enough. It was stupid of me to attempt this, putting both of us at risk. “It’s not from the war. When you marry, if you are lucky enough for an Alpha, he will be able to explain the nuances of his anatomy.”

She looks at me, dumbstruck for a moment, and again I curse whatever passes for an education. “But I am an omega. I will certainly receive my own Alpha.”

“Is that the lie they’re feeding you? Using falsehoods to keep you in line as the perfect, pristine omega? Your dynamic outnumbers us by fifty to one, at least.”

Her eyes widen, horror shining in her depths. Someone had to disabuse her of these romantic notions; it might as well be me. No doubt she already hates me with a fiery passion. What’s the harm in fanning the flames a bit?

Tugging on my jacket, I shake my head and continue. “As to why I’m not marrying you, it is simply because you cannot give me what I need.” Unfortunately, it’s true.

The longer I’m in her presence, the more I realize just how much I let myself go. I need an experienced submissive, not the wide-eyed, moon-calved girl that’s staring up at me, hurt shimmering in her eyes. The best I can hope for is an agreeable match with my nights spent at Rose and Thorne to slack my lust. An heir and a spare, and then I’m free.

But, hell and damnation, I want more than that. As a man that’s used to being in complete control of my life, enduring in this quagmire where I’m forced to stand still and no longer move about freely is tantamount to death itself. Reaching out, I slide my fingertips across Miss Cynthia’s cheek, allowing me one simple pleasure before I run.

Her lashes lower as she leans into the touch. A soft moan escapes her lips, so low I’m not sure if I actually heard it, or if it was simply my heart mourning the loss of her touch. So responsive, so willing, yet the completely wrong person for me.

I’ve never run from anything before, and I’m loath to start it now. The only consolation is that by running this once, I’ll be fixing myself toward the honorable path, the dutiful path. I’ve already corrupted this innocent enough and will have to find a way to atone for my sins.

Unable to take her crestfallen countenance any longer, I turn on my heel and storm out of the library, slamming the door shut behind me. I want to quit this fete so desperately, and yet, I cannot find a way to do so that won’t cast scandal upon either my family or me.

Turning down the familiar halls, I pace back and forth outside of my study for several moments, wracking my brain. When the idea hits me like a bolt of lightning, I race inside and sit down at my desk. With the fireplace lit, it takes me no time to find my matches and light the nearby candle.

With a quick scrawl, I write out a letter, detailing my need to return to Langwell Grove. Something dire enough that I need to leave immediately, but not bad enough that my friends and family feel obligated to help. It takes me several moments, but once it’s the way I like it, I fold it up and seal it with a long-forgotten seal, dragging it through the wax until it’s indistinguishable.

Letter in hand, I blow out the candle and sneak over to the servant’s entrance, using the hidden tunnels to take me the other way around, this way it can appear as though I’ve passed the butler before reentering the party.

Chapter 9

Cynthia

The library is quiet as I stand there, unsure of how long I’m supposed to stay until I’m found. With Norhaven long gone, I should be okay to leave. Right? Uncertainty eats at my brain as I pace back and forth, my thoughts flying about with nowhere to land. Until that bulbous thing appeared at the base of his staff, I was quite enjoying the show he was providing.

It was stupid of me to make such a comment, but I was very worried for him. How am I to know what is normal or not? It’s not as if there are manuals passed around, diagrams for us to study. If so, this would not have been such a humiliating encounter.

Grabbing a nearby book, I sit in the chair and flip through the pages, my eyes not seeing the words. I’m too preoccupied with images of Norhaven’s member, how it seemed to pulse at his touch. It was far more arousing than anything I’ve ever encountered, almost more so than his rough treatment of the maid.

Lost in thought, I almost miss the door opening, startled as Penelope appears by my side. “Where have you been? I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”

Heat tinges my cheeks as I lay the book in my lap. “Do forgive me for worrying you, but I decided to find solace in the library. It’s always so empty and perfect for hiding away.”