Page 38 of To Ensnare a Duke

My thighs quake as I open them. Between my splayed limbs, I watch, unable to control my movements as Portswell drags a chair up to the side of the bed and watches me, his face so scandalously close to my apex.

Heat swallows me whole, drowning me as I touch that sensitive bundle of nerves. A ragged moan rasps from my lips as I caress myself, allowing the pleasure to wash over me, taking away the last bit of rational thought. A dream. Just a dream.

My madness has finally consumed me. I've succumbed in a way I never imagined. There's no way the stuffy duke sitting betwixt my thighs, his breaths coming in and out in harsh pants. I must be delirious, finally given over to my lusts.

Wordless pleas drip from me as I continue to stroke myself, drowning further in my madness. I'm only vaguely aware of his fingers skimming up the backs of my thighs, touching me as if he means to coax me further. Each pass of his fingers stokes the flames even more until I'm engulfed.

"Good girl," he groans as he slips one of his hands into his lap. "Release for me. Let me see your pleasure."

With his free hand, he wedges his fingers between the cheeks of my bottom and tugs on the bit of ginger, renewing the zing of heat as it washes over me, drawing a loud moan from the back of my throat. He pulls it out, allowing the bulbous part to stretch me, only to shove it back in, scalding me from the inside out. It feels so foreign, so wanton having something piston in and out while I touch myself.

I cannot deny how pleasurable it is. How could my mind conjure such a lurid action? The heat of the friction sizzles along my nerves until everything coils tight within me. Soon, I'll meet that blessed release. It's close. So so close.

"Slap your clit," the duke's voice rasps out.

"Slap… what?" I shake my head, determined to make sense of his words, but nothing comes to mind.

"The place you touch to bring yourself pleasure. Slap it with your fingertips."

Do I dare? So far, everything, save the punishment, has felt wonderful. But even that turned into something far more enjoyable than at the onset.

SMACK

I bring my fingertips down against that sensitive area and my lips part in shock. Pleasure rocks through me, leaving me nearly breathless.

"Again."

SMACK

"Again."

Portswell's voice is like a chant in my mind. Each time he says that word, my hand acts of its own volition. Though the pleasure is intense, I find that it does not give me the relief I seek. Pained whines gurgle at the back of my throat as tears flow down on either side of my face.

"Please," I beg, my voice cracking as I plead with him. "I need-"

"I know precisely what you need. Again."

With a sharp wail, I smack myself. Harder this time.

"That's my good little minx. You can obey, after all. Once more," he growls out. “Smack your clit."

This time, as my fingers descend between my thighs, he yanks out the ginger, leaving me bereft. The desperate whimpers refuse to stay in my head as I command. Instead, they pour out into the room as I beg him again.

"Don't worry, my precocious hoyden." He trails his fingers along that forbidden hole, teasing the sensitive skin until I gasp. “If I touch you here, you will still be a proper fit for your husband.”

With a loud groan, he slides a finger deep inside me. My moans intermingle with his as I toss my head back and forth, desperate for release.

"Touch yourself again," he rasps out, pulling out a finger to slide in more. "I want to see you fall apart with my fingers up your arse."

His filthy words spur me forward even as the sting from him stretching me wide gives me that small bite of pain I need. Desperation commands each stroke as I rub the bundle of nerves, wringing all the pleasure I can from it. When it hits, my entire body clenches, tightening around his fingers until he groans and wriggles them back and forth.

It only keeps the pleasure rolling through me as I scream to the heavens. At home, I was forced to be silent, but in this haven, I can be as loud as I want to be.

"That's it, minx," he growls, the sound vibrating through me. "You're so bloody beautiful in the throes of passion."

Another wave ripples through me. I jut my hips up in the air, rocking them back and forth as I end my release. With murmured sounds of praise, Portswell pulls his fingers from me as I slump back against the bed. My eyes refuse to stay open as I lie there, listening to him clean up.

He comes back over, and soon, a rasping sensation forces me to open my eyes once more. With gentle motions, he drags the rag over my bottom hole, cleaning up any remaining ginger. Unable to really move, I blink at him as happiness settles deep into my chest.