Page 16 of In Service to the Duke

With a stern frown, she shakes her head.

“Oh? So, you mean to tell me your display of defiance in the music room was not a ploy to come back here for another thrashing? Has the burn of my crop dissipated so quickly you need a refresher on what it means to be at my mercy? I already know your body burns for mine. I just refuse to give in to its demands.”

She looks at me with that maddening, quizzical expression, the one that tells me she doesn’t understand a word I’m saying. It’s the expression of innocence, that infuriating look which keeps me from doing more than I am. It’s the only thing keeping her safe.

With a furious frown, I stalk forward, drawing her arousal deep into my lungs. I can’t think with it swirling about my head. Growling, I wrap my fingers around the nape of her neck and draw her near.

She’s not close enough to kiss, but she is close enough for me to feel her breath against my skin. What spell has this omega weaved around me? Have I not learned my lesson since Delilah?

Now, here I am, about to sully another woman and pray I don’t get caught and dragged before the parson. The only difference is that maid never led me to believe she was an innocent. Everyone knew she had a past, but her actions in my pleasure dungeon made me see past all that.

She was supposed to be a bit of fun, a bout of pleasure until I learned the secret she was harboring. Is this omega the same? Is she only here to trap me in marriage? I peer into her eyes, desperate to know what secrets lurk in those fawn-like depths. So large, so voluminous, and oh so innocent.

I push her away, not trusting myself at this moment. Turning, I grip the desk, forcing my gaze onto the portrait of my father. What would he have done? It’s insane I even need to ask.

He courted my mother despite her low birth. All my life, I refused to end up like them. Not because I’m ashamed of her origins, but because I have my family to think about.

My father was an only child. As such, his parents were desperate for him to have an heir. I don’t think they cared as much about who he bedded as long as it resulted in a son. But with my mother waning and my sisters about to join the marriage mart, I can’t take liberties like he did.

I have to put aside these urges and carry on as planned. There will be no wedding unless she’s a diamond in both beauty and breeding. Though Miss Gillet has the beauty part, I cannot overlook her heritage.

With a sigh, I bring my raging erection back down, willing my ardor to flag. I will discipline her, yes, but that is all I will do. It has to be. For my sanity, it must be so.

Turning back around, I find myself lost in those brown eyes of hers. With a smirk, I hold out my cravat. “Open,” I repeat, softening my tone.

When her lips part, I nearly groan out loud. How much would I love to see my cock passing through that portal and into her mouth? But I must tread carefully. If I am to torment myself like this, I must act as if I’m beyond reproach.

Claiming her mouth cannot be excused away as a form of punishment, not when it’s so intimate. Even if she’s innocent enough not to understand the action, she will know enough to comprehend just how unseemly it is. Stuffing my cravat into her mouth, I lead her over to the chair.

To the untrained eye, it looks like any normal piece of furniture, just a bit larger. To my friends and I, we all know the truth. These chairs were created for us, fashioned for the deviance we crave.

As I lead her over my lap, she fits there perfectly, nestled in between the thickly stuffed arms of the chair. If I were thinking with my proper brain, I would have just tipped her over that, but I crave the feeling of her weight against me.

“Since thrashing you with my crop atop your shift did nothing to curb your behavior, I must employ a different method.”

She stiffens over me, her body going ramrod. Certainly not the actions of someone willfully attempting to get me to defile them. Still, the need to tread carefully thrums through my brain on an endless refrain.

Lifting her skirts, I press them into her back, eying the door. With it being locked, there’s no way anyone can disturb us, but there’s still that tingle of apprehension, that arousal, the delicious fear of getting caught. It’s almost as tantalizing as punishing this poor omega. Almost.

I grip her shift in my hand, staying still as she wriggles about. With each movement, she grinds against my shaft, bringing arousal up to the surface. Bloody hell, but I want her so desperately I can almost taste it. Wrenching the article of clothing up, I stare at her naked backside, my cock pulsing with unfettered need.

Her fingers dig into my thighs as she buries her head into the cushions. The pale, pristine skin nearly glows up at me. A blank canvas for me to mar. Skimming my palm down her arse, I watch as it pebbles beneath me.

The scent of her arousal is stronger now, and not just because I’ve exposed it to the air. She likes the dirty things I do to her. Growling low in my throat, I bring up my hand and crash it against the curve of her bottom.

She bucks against me, her breasts grazing my thigh as she bows up. This position is far too intimate, but I don’t want to stop now. I want to see how far I can take us before we shatter. The need for propriety flees as I continue to spank her, smacking my hand against her delicate bottom until it glows red.

Such a pretty shade. It plays off the highlights in her hair, again, driving the need to fist it in my hand. Precum pearls at my shaft as I continue to strike, drinking in the whimpered moans as they struggle to come out from behind the cravat.

Were we in my dungeon down below, there would be no need for a gag. Not unless I wanted it. But to have her in my inner sanctum would be far too much. Nothing would keep me from defiling her.

Up here, though, there’s a chance of getting caught. It keeps me from getting tangled up in her wiles. In that way, it’s far safer. Tipping her forward, I catch the underside of each cheek, detesting how that scrap of cloth keeps me from fully hearing every screech from her beautiful lips.

I pause, resting my hand against her warm skin and draw lazy designs as she squirms about. She may hate this, may hate me, but her body drips with need. The need to touch her again beats at my brain until I find myself prying her arse cheeks apart to stare down at her bottom hole.

“Understand this, Miss Gillet. Every time I bring you in here to punish you, it will be worse than the time before it. Next time, this bit of puckered flesh will feel my ire.”

I graze the sensitive spot with my finger, keeping my touch light, at the surface. What I really want to do is invade her, to make her squirm as I impale that forbidden place. Knowing her, however, I’ll be back here soon enough.