"Staffan!" Saffi wailed in embarrassment behind him.
Smiling at the sound, he raised a brow at the other man. "Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
Staffan shut the door behind him to find his wife glaring at him. He said simply, "I love you, Saffi."
She melted, like he had known she would. Even so, she muttered, "You won't get away with this all the time."
"Of course I won't. You can even punish me later, but for now – I want to fuck you mindless, Mrs. Aehrenthal."
"But this is Katy Perry's---" She couldn't finish her sentence, not with Staffan already ripping her panties away – the third pair of the day, for heaven's sake – and tracing her quivering sex.
"She'll understand." He slid his cock into her.
"But it's not---"
"Baby, concentrate on me." Staffan started thrusting in and out of her, his cock making her feel so impossibly full.
She slumped against the table as his thrusts became more forceful, and he laughed, the sound triumphant but loving at the same time. Saffi gripped the edges as his strokes became wilder. She was getting close, so, so---
The doorknob rattled, followed by an unmistakable voice. "Who's in here?"
"Oh my---"
With a wicked grin, Staffan called out, "Can I borrow your dressing room for a minute, Katy?"
Saffi was shaking her head furiously at him, but she forgot all about protesting as Staffan reached down to tease her clit.
"Is that you, Staffan?"
Saffi moaned in embarrassment.
A chuckle. "Is that you, Saffi?"
She stopped moaning.
And then all she could do was breathe as Staffan began to move in earnest, a look of passion falling on his face as he pounded his dick into her, over and over and over.
Katy was still laughing outside.
"Ignore her," he gritted.
"I ca---aaah!" She shrieked as Staffan slid one finger into her ass, something that was still new to her but oh so … "Aaaaah." In moments, the dual thrusts had thrown her into a whirlpool of pleasure and all she could do was gasp and gasp, wondering when the pleasure would stop, wondering if she ever wanted it to stop.
Knowing Staffan, it wouldn't stop anytime soon. Katy Perry was better off finding another dressing room---
"Baby," Staffan growled from behind her. "You're not concentrating." Another finger joined the one in her ass and the whirlpool of pleasure started again, spinning her around faster and faster as Staffan's cock moved in tandem with his fingers. His pants became louder as both their orgasms threatened to explode.
"Love you, baby," Staffan growled as they came together.
It wouldn't end, this pleasure, Saffi thought dizzily. This wouldn't end. And it would never end because---
Staffan kissed her shoulder, and then bit it when she didn't respond. Saffi forced her eyes open. "Mmm?"
He smiled at her lazily. "Ready for Round 2?"
She moaned weakly. "Staffan … "
But he was already moving.
Ah, yes. This, this bliss with Staffan … it would never ever end.
****
One Week Later
Rathe Wellesley reached the floor where Saffi's dorm room was supposedly located. Why the hell did he even continue playing poker with his friends, he wondered. He fucking sucked at it, and he always ended up losing.
Like now.
He checked the slip of paper where Saffi had hastily written instructions for him.
The girls are pregnant so I can't transfer them to our new home. Please, please, please feed them on schedule!
He shook his head. Saffi made her fish sound like they really were pregnant women. As he tried the knob, the door next to Saffi's room opened. A petite girl with the most curvaceous body he had ever seen came out. Her dark hair was twisted up like a jaunty hat on top of her head, and her glasses seemed a size too big since it kept falling down her nose even as she kept pushing them back up. She looked extremely shy and awkward, but her lingerie was extremely revealing – a two-piece silk-and-lace pair that practically exposed her breasts and her long silky legs.
The complete contrast was utterly intriguing, and he was successfully and hopelessly intrigued. He wanted her. And he meant to have her.
The girl hastily crossed her arms over her chest as his gaze narrowed. Rathe could see that she wanted to go back inside, lock the door, and hide in her room, but something was preventing her. "Are you here for … Saffi's fish?"
He nodded.
She disappeared in a flash, making Rathe blink. She reappeared and held her hand out to him. "Here's the key. She told me a friend of Staffan's would be coming over to care for them." She was obviously preparing to retreat.
"Don't go." His commanding voice stopped her from moving. "What's your name?"
She shook her head.
He took a step closer. "Tell me your name," he invited.
She swallowed. "Mary."
He looked behind her. "Is this your room?" His voice was throaty.
"Yes---"
Rathe held her by the shoulders and gently made her move backwards, and he followed her inside. He closed the door and the moment the world outside disappeared, he bent his head down and kissed her. ###
How Not To Be Seduced By Dukes
Prologue
18 years ago
"Hail holy queen enthroned above, o Maria … " The girls' soprano voices blended beautifully with the deeper baritone voices of the boys, and its gorgeously delicate harmony was as impressive as it was unfair. The few reporters allowed to witness the performance of the students of St. Anthony's and St. Clare's were half-envious and half-incredulous. These young individuals seemed to have received all of God's blessings. Not only were they all wealthy scions and heiresses, but they were also all incredibly attractive and, based on today's performance at the Chapel of The Holy Angels, they had the makings of a professional choir, too.
The boys of St. Anthony's, ranging from twelve to eighteen, were dressed in coats and ties, while the girls of St. Clare's were dressed similarly, except for the fact that pants were replaced with short skirts and knee-high socks. Each student had a story to tell, no doubt, but at the moment, all eyes were trained on one pair.
The girl was of average height, the classic English blond beauty with her peaches and cream skin and blue eyes. Her name was Marigold Bordeaux, and she was allegedly the girl whose naked bum was caught on camera by the paps as she climbed the rather low walls of St. Anthony's.
Next to her was a sixteen-year-old boy, rather tall for his age. He was two years her junior and coldly beautiful with chestnut brown hair and an extremely bright shade of blue eyes. He had the look and build of a nobleman, which he was, never mind if he wasn't acknowledged by his grandfather, the Duke of Flanders.
His name was Rathe Wellesley, and if rumors were to be believed, he was the boy who had been fucking Ms. Bordeaux in one of the dark corners of St. Anthony's manicured gardens. Wanda, a reporter for a rather sleazy tabloid, had gone undercover and had chatted up as many of the pair's classmates as she could find. They were unanimous in their accounts.
Marigold had been so desperate to snag Rathe Wellesley that when he had finally given her the time of the day, she had not hesitated to say yes to what he wanted. And if he had preferred to take her from behind in the dark, skirts tossed up like she was no different from a maid being dallied by her master – well, it was a price she was eager to pay as long as it meant having the right to call the ever-elusive Rathe as hers.
"Can't believe she let him treat her like that," Ned, Wanda's cameraman, whispered to her, trying not to gawk at the extremely pretty blond next to the duke's aloof-looking grandson. If it was him, he'd willingly spend his entire year's wages and treat her like a princess.
Wanda snorted. "Just shows how little you know about girls. For a really hot man, we'd do anything."
Ned shook his head. "Maybe here in London. But girls from my place aren't like that---"
"Sssh! They're done singing!" Wanda joined in the applause at the priest's instigation even as she kept her gaze on the couple. Her eyes gleamed with sharp curiosity when she noticed Rathe subtly shrugging off Marigold's clinging hold.
"I can feel it, Ned," she said in a low and excited whisper. "Get your camera and train it on those two. Something's going to happen … "
And she was right.
****
As Rathe exited the pew, Marigold hurried after him. She did her best to ignore how everyone was staring at her as she did, keeping her chin up. She was the Earl of Lowell's daughter and they were no one.
"Rathe, baby," she said breathlessly when she finally managed to catch up with him.
The way he glanced at her made Marigold flush. It was as if she had no right to be standing this close to him.
Forcing a smile on her face, she asked, "What do you think of spending the holidays with my family in Bath?"