Page 32 of In Service to the Duke

This has already gone on too far. If I let this continue, it will ruin both of us. Yanking myself away, I walk over to the edge of the settee, keeping a bit of furniture between us. Right now, it’s the only thing keeping me from ravaging her and ruining any chances of a somewhat decent marriage for both of us.

It was different while she was asleep. She was so still and pliant. I could do what I wanted to her without the added pressure of her insistence. Now, feeling her just as desperate, just as needy… It's too much. I fear I cannot control myself in the presence of such hunger.

Running the back of my hand over my mouth, I wipe her taste away, willing it to leave me. But it clings, ever-present, with every breath, every dart of my tongue to wet my lips. She reclines there, watching me, her knees splayed in a silent plea.

She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for, innocent that she is. However, the ravenous look in her eyes, the lust turning them from brown to nearly black as the pupils eat the irises, beats at me, demanding I answer in kind. Like the coward I seem to have become, I back away from her, unable to trust myself in this moment.

My fingers graze against the desk, bringing my mind back to where it should be. “Why are you in here?”

Miss Gillet blinks at me, a befuddled expression edging out the longing in her gaze. “I merely came to retrieve a book for today’s lesson.”

I slide behind my desk and study the tome. “Maps and stories from the war front?”

She sits up, her brows knitting in confusion. “Oh. Is that what it is?”

I prop the book up and hold it to where she can see the cover. “That is indeed what it says. As someone teaching my sisters French, I would assume you could read it.”

A light blush stains her cheeks. “I am able-”

I cut her off, irritation replacing the last bit of desire as I put the book at the far edge of the desk. “Then come, show me how skilled you are with that tongue.”

Seeing as she’s so innocent, my double entendre doesn’t even register in her mind. Normally, such naivete is undesirable to me. And yet, as she shuffles over, her expression almost crestfallen, I find myself falling more and more under her spell. At this moment, it matters not that her tongue is unskilled. I still wish to feel its caress against my skin.

It takes her far longer than I’d like, but soon she’s at my desk, her brows furrowing as she looks down at the book. After opening up to a random section, I look back over at her expression, my mind and cock warring with each other as she clearly struggles with what she’s seeing. I come up behind her, and grab her wrists, forcing her hands to plant on either side.

“You will read for me. Out loud. For every incorrect word, you will receive a punishment.” With a firm shove, I bend her in half so that her face is mere inches away from the paper.

Nonsensical utterances drip from her lips as I pull her skirts and shift up, revealing her dripping pussy. My cock pulses as I take in the beautiful sight of her quim. I need to taste her again. It’s a desperation unlike any I’ve known before.

Keeping firm in my resolve, I grip her right arse cheek. Not so hard that it harms her, but enough for her to understand I am earnest in my request. Her voice quavers a bit as she sounds out the first line.

I glance over her shoulder, a frown furrowing as she mangles the first bit. The words themselves are technically correct, but the pronunciation leaves much to be desired. There’s no elegance in her speech, no delicate utterances as she says the words. All in all, she sounds more like a commoner than a lady.

To think, this is who I’m trusting my sisters with? I allow my ire to fuel my blow as I strike her right cheek. She jerks forward, her words trailing off in an unladylike squawk.

“Again,” I demand, leaning low to her ear.

Repeating the section she just said, I allow the French to flow over her in soft, hushed tones. She looks over at me as her lust begins to flare again. Try as she might, however, she cannot seem to match me in intonation.

I strike the other cheek, drawing out a pained yelp. It’s not loud enough for me to worry over others hearing us. She has, at least, enough sense to keep such noises to herself.

Again, I repeat the phrase, and wait for her to say it back. It’s not lost on me that I am now her instructor in ways other than just carnal ones. Tears drip down her cheeks as she sniffles and tries again.

This time, it’s a touch better. At least she’s showing signs of being able to improve. Pulling her away from the desk, I whirl her toward me and press down on her shoulders, forcing her to kneel on the floor beneath me.

I have no earthly idea why I’m doing this. I’m playing with fire, and eventually, we will both get burned. For now, however, I can indulge my fantasies without her being any wiser to the deviant lusts simmering under the surface.

She’s so pretty down there, looking up at me from under tear-dipped lashes. It’s a look I want to see on her face over and over again. Lifting the massive book in my hand, I read out loud, watching her expression.

Not one speck of discomfort flashes in those brown eyes of hers. In fact, she looks as if she belongs there. For the first time since I’ve seen her in my home, she seems at ease. It tugs at my heart as she kneels there, lapping up every word I’m saying.

But this isn’t all about satisfying my carnal needs. If she’s going to be in charge of my sister’s instructions, I need to know just how deficient she is. Setting the book down, I cross my arms and begin to speak to her in French.

When she answers back in kind, albeit rustic in tone, I’m taken aback. She can at least hold a conversation. That’s better than I expected. For the next several minutes, I keep her on her knees as I quiz her, poking holes into her knowledge base. Though she’s not nearly as accomplished as I would like, she’s not quite as lacking as I once feared.

Still though, there’s something about her which still rings false to me. For someone supposedly as polished as she, I find her unable to meet my exacting demands. I cannot trap her in a lie, not yet at least, but there’s something I cannot put my finger on.

It eats at me as I watch her. If only I could figure out what I’m missing. Despite having a stern conversation with the butler who hired her, nothing seems amiss. But in my gut, there’s something wrong. If only I can ferret out what it is.