Page 61 of To Ensnare a Duke

His hand bumps against mine in rapid strokes, as if he's perhaps guiding me? But it's far too erratic for me to follow. Again, that familiar coiling rolls through me, making my body clench and tighten.

"Now stop."

I want to wail at his command. So close. So blasted close.

"Begin again."

It's as if I'm back at the beginning. Soon, my strokes bring me back to the pinnacle.

"Stop."

"Please," I sob. "I cannot take much more of this."

"I know, my darling," he grunts, his voice slightly strained. "Again."

Just as last time, the moment I get close enough, he commands me to stop. Tears slide down my cheeks and wet the cravat as frustration builds.

"I- I can't. I can't do this anymore."

"Yes, you can," he growls, the movements of his fingers rubbing against me harder and faster. "You can take this and so much more for me."

His hand yanks my fingers away and lifts them up. Soon, heat engulfs the slippery digits. His mouth. I can feel his tongue lapping against them as he sucks my arousal off. My core cramps with need at the intimate gesture.

"Again, and this time, don't stop until you've released."

Relief floods my veins as I stroke myself again, my arousal heightened even more by the soft grunts at the edge of the bed. It's as if Portswell seeks the same release I do. Knowing he derives such pleasure from seeing me spurs me forward.

"So close," I groan, my body straining as everything tightens.

"Good girl. Don't stop. Come for me. Let me see the beauty of your release."

At his last word, my body spasms as everything spins out of control. With my last shred of sanity, I grab the sheets and stuff them into my mouth so no one can hear me scream out in utter pleasure and relief. Unlike the other times, I don't pull away as soon as I'm done.

I continue to stroke myself, my body rippling as wave after wave washes over me, continually drowning me in endless pleasure. Somewhere in the haze, I'm mildly aware of Portswell's muttered oaths as something hot and sticky splashes onto my hand and drips down my body.

Harsh breaths fill the space as we both stay silent. No words can form. No prose can come to mind, save the gratitude hovering on my lips. I lie there, languid, as if I have no bones in my body to hold me up.

"Stay very still," he eventually whispers. "I shall attend to you then head back downstairs so you can straighten up and be prepared for the dinner."

Fluids continue to slide down my lower lips as I lay there. Such a curious thing. Never before has this happened, and I'm not entirely sure of the ramifications.

Soon, Portswell is back in the room. He drags a cool rag against my fevered flesh, cleaning me with a tenderness I didn't think possible from him. With gentle tugs, he eases the dilator from me before disappearing again.

This time, when he comes back, he removes the cravat from my eyes and smiles down at me. "Such a good little deviant duchess," he sighs, filling my heart with such joy. "And not just for how beautifully you came. The menu is perfect as well. You will make a wonderful bride for me. I'll see you downstairs after you dress for dinner. Your guests will be here shortly."

He slips through the secret entrance, leaving me alone in the room. My mind whirls as I try to come to terms with everything that has just happened, but my brain doesn't wish to think. All I want to do is lie back and luxuriate in the feelings fluttering through me.

As I study the clock, however, I know it will have to wait. Soon my maid will be here, and I don't wish to seem all that out of sorts.

CHAPTER 28

AUGUSTA

Dinner is a far more boring affair than I had hoped. But then, after the interlude with Portswell, I cannot be blamed for finding conversation about crops and fields to be all that inspiring. Every so often, I slide my gaze over to him and marvel at what a catch I have.

Even though I don't particularly find the current topics arousing, he's animated as he eats. Conversations fly back and forth between the dukes, but the women seem far more content to pick at their food and eat like little birds than to talk. Is this what it will be like as a new duchess?

A sigh flits from my lips as I look toward the head of the table, sorrow lancing through me for a moment at my brother's absence. Surely, he knows and will come back in time. Yes? He can't be so angry at us so as to stay away out of spite.