Eternally Seduced(130)

A sob of pleasure escaped her at the sight of Rathe sucking his finger,  taking in her essence. "Rathe," she moaned, her fingers sinking into his  hair and gripping it tightly.

He acquiesced, moving down to thrust his tongue into her heat.

A scream broke past her lips.

He fucked her with his tongue, relentlessly, wanting to hear his shy and lovely girl scream his name.

And she did, crying out his name over and over.

When her cries became hoarse, her body shuddering uncontrollably, he  knew it was time. He moved up, licking his lips before his mouth closed  over her clit.

"RATHE!" Her orgasm took her by surprise, a tornado of pleasure that  didn't give her any moment to breathe and prepare herself for the  onslaught of sensation. She shook. She screamed. She loved.

When she floated down, she found herself draped on top of Rathe. Propping herself up, she asked tremulously, "You---"

"I find pleasure in making my little pearl go wild."

She blushed.

"You were like a hellcat."

Her blush turned from pink to red. She shook her head, still in a  sensual daze. "It was just so … " She bit her lip. "I wanted you to take  my … "

He shook his head, making her voice trail off. "Not now, little pearl. And not like this."

"Why?"

"Because your virginity … it's a gift I want to treasure. And when I do  take it, I don't want it to be because we aroused each other with sex  games and role playing. When we do it, I want it to be us."

The words had her hugging him tightly, surprising him and making him  smile even as a tight indescribable feeling started in his chest.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice shy and awkward.

He kissed her hair, inhaling her scent and liking that it now mingled  with his. "Why are you so shy?" he asked idly, twirling her hair around  his fingers. It was not his custom to talk with his bed partner but Mary  was … his mistress. Mary … loved him. It was different between them.

"It's not that I'm just shy," she admitted after a while. "It's  because … I'm afraid. I'm scared that most men are like my stepfather.  They look so … normal when you don't really know them but underneath  they're … monsters."

He embraced her tightly, silently promising her his strength.

"And you?" she whispered after a beat. "People always say you're cold … "

"Do you think I'm cold?"

"I never did."

He heard the truth in her voice and again there was that tight sensation  in his chest, squeezing and squeezing until he had a hard time  breathing. "I need to be cold to be strong." He looked down, cupping her  face as he told her seriously, "Like I want to be strong for you. My  coldness is my strength and that shall be your protection against anyone  who tries to harm you."

She held his hand and kissed it. "I'll be your shield then. With me, you  can stop being cold while I hide you from the world. I'll protect you  too, Rathe."

That night, she slept in his arms. When he woke, he carefully disengaged  himself and padded towards the study. He called his lawyer, intending  to retract his request for a contract for Mary, but he did not get a  word edgewise.

Wilson said, "The contract's ready. Do you want me to send it over now?  Good thing you had me do this. It will make sure that if people do find  out you are having an affair with someone in her teens, we can let them  know there's a contract between you and that she was advised by her  lawyer  –  does she have one by the way?"

He said slowly, "No."

"Then we'll find her one, someone who's really good so it doesn't seem  like we're taking advantage of her. This is a good call on your part,  Your Grace. Pedophiles and perverts don't bother being business-minded  when confronted with their obsessions. They lose their brains and let  their penises decide for themselves. But you and your father are  different---"

"My father has a similar contract?"

"A pre-nup with your mother," Wilson said suavely, not bothering to let  the duke know that it was at Alyssa's insistence that Warren Wellesley  had her sign one. "So," he said briskly, "shall I send it to you now?"

He said quietly, "Yes."

It would be all right, he told himself. If his parents had agreed to a  similar contract, then there was no reason why something similar would  be wrong between them.





Chapter Fourteen





"This is such a strange place," she told him the next day as he took her  out to dinner. The restaurant was beautiful but dimly lit and only had a  few tables scattered around the room. There was an ocean of space  between each table, making her wonder if the people here had antisocial  disorders.

"Is this a place for nobility?"

Actually, it was a place for men like him and mistresses like her but he  did not think she needed to know that. He helped her to her seat before  taking the seat across her. "Why do you ask that?"

"Because I feel like only dukes like you need this much space from regular people like me."

He said dryly, "You know you just said in a roundabout way that I'm a snob, don't you?"

She quickly hid herself behind the huge menu. "Mm … what's good in this  place?" A hand touched her knee under the table and she jerked in her  seat, her knees moving up and causing the entire table to rattle.

"Rathe!"

"Snobs surely don't do that … or this … " His fingers crept up.

She quickly clamped her hand over his. "I'm sorry. I take it back."

He smiled. "Are you sure you want to take it back?"

When he put it that way, Mary was torn. "Umm … "

Laughing, he said, "Later."

They enjoyed their dinner leisurely, Mary relaxing after a few minutes  when she realized that no one in this place truly cared about them. What  a strange, strange place this was, Mary thought. But if it meant  enjoying privacy when dining out, she didn't care how strange it was.  She loved it.

As their plates were taken away in preparation for their dessert, Rathe said, "I have something for you to consider."

Oh my God, something to consider …

Was that the ducal way of saying he was about to propose?

She cleared her throat. "Go on." Did that pass as a future duchess' way  of saying she was so going to say yes if he proposed? The thought that  she was too young and he was too old didn't even cross her mind.

"Here."

She looked at him, expecting a tiny box but instead what she got was … a  manila envelope? Confused, she opened the envelope and took out a sheaf  of papers. She paled, realizing what it was.

"A contract," she said dully.         

     



 

"Yes. For formalities sake."

She tried to be reasonable about it, doing her best to keep her fingers  from shaking as she went through it, page after page, her eyes getting  blurry as she reached the end.

In case of separation …

In case of infidelity …

In case of financial monies owed by the contracted partner …

All of it amounted to the same thing. That Rathe, the Duke of Wellesley,  had the right to treat her like a whore, to cheat on her, to make a  fool out of her but as the mistress, she only had the right to spread  her legs for him.

"Did you read this?"

"Yes," he lied. He had not been able to, but if it was what his parents had signed, then it should be good enough.

Her heart shattered at Rathe's answer. He had truly read this? And he  still presented it to her? "Why?" she whispered. "Why would you do this  to me?"

He hated how defensive she made him feel, knowing that he was not doing  anything wrong. He felt guilty and he despised himself for being so  weak. He was not in the wrong here. She was the one who was wrong, the  way she was being overly sensitive.

His cold ducal mask had slipped into place, and the Rathe Wellesley she  loved was no more. "Shouldn't the question be the other way around,  Mary? Why would you not do this for me?"

"Because it's not how love works."

He hissed, "Stop looking at me like I betrayed you."

She didn't speak, only continuing to look at him like he was the worst scum on earth.

"If you love me, you will do this for me."

Mary said numbly, "You don't want me to love you. You want to own me.  I'm not even a person … " She broke off, unable to believe that everything  she believed in  –  that everything she had hoped for them was just an  illusion. "I have to go."

That tight feeling in his chest disappeared, to be replaced by something fiery and wild, something that tasted like … panic.

She was on her feet now.

"If you leave, don't expect me to run after you."

"I don't expect anything anymore, Rathe." But she didn't leave right  away, hoping and waiting that he would tell her he was wrong. She would  swallow any excuse---

His tone was icy when he asked, "Why are you still here?"