Her Mystery Duke(45)
“Who is he?”
“He’s not important.” The sudden, impassioned fire in his eyes, made her catch her breath. “Jeanne, don’t leave just yet.”
“Please, David, it is really for the best. For both of us.”
“Stay and dine with me.” He bent and placed a quick, deliberate kiss on each of her knees.
She wished she could say that the ridiculous gesture left her unaffected. But her gaze drank in his handsome features and warmth melted into her belly. She couldn’t deny what that warmth was. It was relief. He didn’t want her to leave.
There was also some joy in seeing the depth of his passion.
She wanted to leave but she was relieved that he didn’t want her to. It made no sense.
He laid his head in her lap then slowly pressed his face into the apex between her legs. He blew heated air and it leaked through her clothing. A tickling sensation tingled over her folds, awakening her desire. Her nub began to stiffen. Hot chills rushed over her. Her face flamed. She squirmed and then giggled. Actually giggled like some silly chit.
“Oh goodness, David, really.”
He lifted his head. “Don’t leave yet.”
“I don’t see a good reason for me to stay.”
“Do you know that I spend all my time surrounded by people, and yet I am always lonely?”
She touched his midnight black hair, smoothed the disordered locks.
He grasped her hand and pulled it away from his head.
Frustration smoldered through her. He would never simply let her touch him…
He turned the palm up, and began to trace small circles. “The only time I don’t feel lonely is when I am with you.”
Burning flared in her throat. She couldn’t speak.
“I should like to spend some time with you away from a bedchamber.” His handsome features contorted into a pained expression. “I haven’t wanted to know anyone deeply for years. With so many people, the more I discover about them, the less I like them. But it’s not that way with you. The more I see you, the more I want to see you. I want to know you, Jeanne, inside and out.”
How could she possibly say no now? “Of course I shall stay to dine.”
His features relaxed, his eyes shone like bright emeralds. “And you’ll wear the gown?”
“It is so costly. And it will just be you and I …” A tingling spiral of pure alarm sprung in her abdomen, dampening her arousal. “Won’t it?” she asked with a smaller voice.
“Of course, just you and I. I cancelled my evening plans.”
He said that last as though it were a gesture of monumental effort and significance. Well, for a duke it must be. “I want to see you in the gown. You’ll wear it, won’t you? To please me?”
To please me.
The words resonated deep inside her, tiny starbursts of heat that slowly caught fire. Flames licked from her womb to her nub. Moisture seeped from her core to trickle over fast-swelling nether lips. She nodded. “Yes, I’ll do it to please you, David.”
* * * *
She stood in the opulent drawing room, dressed in that evening gown, too afraid to sit and ruin it. Nervousness caused a fine sheen of sweat to moisten her skin and she fretted about how that might affect the obviously expensive cambric shift and, goodness, silk stockings. She had never worn silk stockings in her entire life.
Ribbon-and-lace garters trimmed with rosettes.
Above-the-elbow silk gloves with real pearl buttons.
Dainty, low-heeled velvet slippers with gilded buckles.
Heavens.
She walked slowly, carefully to the huge, brass-framed mirror and then startled. The woman staring back at her didn’t seem real. Her hair, made to look impossibly light gold by the dark gown, was twisted into a waterfall of ringlets crowned by a wreath of pink roses, and embellished with more pearls and a dark blue ribbon with gilded edges. The scent of carnation and lemon and spice and something she couldn’t identify floated in the air, the perfume Mrs. Alligood had rubbed on her neck and upper bosom before dressing her.
David wanted to see her like this. Why did that make a difference? She wasn’t quite sure, but it had. She wanted to please him.
As he entered, though he wore that aloof, dignified mask of an expression, she could tell by the way his eyes widened, by the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple, that the gown pleased him. The sight of her pleased him. She felt beautiful and all things womanly. In that moment, it didn’t matter if she ever wrote another story, another scene, another word. She might never again have a chance at publication.
It didn’t matter.
She wanted to go to him and fall to her knees. Right here in this dignified chamber where he entertained his guests. She would slowly unbutton his fall, take his cock out, and suck and stroke him until he lost all sanity from the pleasure. The urge, the need was so strong, a slight tremor shuddered along her frame. Her knees weakened. She shifted her position then wet her lips and swallowed, pushing the whole silly scene to the back of her mind.