Page 27 of The Duke's Vice

She moved her finger back down and it grazed over her sex, causing a yelp. She quickly looked to the door and waited for footsteps but none came.

She continued her ministrations, slowly at first. Her movements were stunted and awkward until she figured out what she liked. The warmth that had pooled in her stomach began to grow and spread throughout her entire body.

Ha! Just wait until I see that Duke again!

The Duke.

With his strong hands, broad chest, emerald green eyes, and a smile that could get even the holiest of women in trouble. Beatrice’s hips began to move underneath her. She could feel his body pressed up against hers. His breath on her neck as he praised her and encouraged her to keep going. She felt her body pushing closer to a cliff. Her mind and body began to fight for control. Her body has never felt this way, it was as if something else was in control of her and her mind was fighting for decorum.

The Duke’s eyes flashed in her mind and her body froze. Her stomach cramped from the sudden stop. She licked her lips and sat up, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

This wasn’t working, she needed more. She needed to know more. She sprinted to her closet where she kept her cloak.

She needed the Duke.

CHAPTER 8

Beatrice looked over her shoulder. It wasn’t that she was scared to wander the streets at night, she had done it several times by now. However, she never snuck to a Duke’s house and asked to see him.

She crossed her fingers as she knocked, hoping she had the right address. She cursed herself for not giving herself enough time to plot this adventure better. She should have waited until tomorrow night to do this so she could have taken her time when she snuck into her mother’s study to go through her correspondence for an address.

But Beatrice was done waiting. Now she was standing in front of large, darkened door, hoping she read the address she found on a discarded envelope right. She dug in her pocket for the envelope and pulled it out just as the door opened.

“Who goes there?” A tired voice mumbled through the darkness.

“Um, it’s Lady Beatrice Morsey.” Beatrice shuffled her feet and tried to peer through the crack of the door. “I’m here to see Duke Graham… that is if he is not indisposed.”

A ragged sigh floated through the sliver of an opening. “Unfortunately for me, he is never indisposed.”

The door widened and Beatrice was met with a man most likely in his late seventies with bags under his eyes. He barely lifted his arm as he ushered her in.

“Come in then. I’ll take you to him, but you’re out of luck if you want anything. I won’t wake up Mrs. Sanders.”

Beatrice was too busy trying to calm down her racing heart to be offended by the butler’s demeanor.

She waved him off. “That’s fine. I won’t be here long.”

The butler huffed. “They never are.”

“What was that?” She asked.

The butler shuffled past her, ignoring her question.

Beatrice held her cloak close to her as she followed the butler down the dimly lit hallway to what she assumed was Graham’s study.

He opened the door without a knock and held his arm out in front of him. On a normal day Beatrice would find the butler’s actions disrespectful and off-putting, but due to the nature of her visit she had other things to worry about.

She stepped into the study lit by a single lamp on the Duke’s desk and a dying fire in the fireplace. The low light cast shadows that danced around the room as the Duke sat his desk flipping through papers, mumbling to himself.

Beatrice turned to the butler but the door was already closed and the butler gone. She retuned her gaze to Graham and opened her mouth to say ‘hello’ but something stopped her.

Her eyes caught the movement of his arms as he turned a page in a ledger book. His forearm muscles, bare from his sleeves rolled up, flexed causing her stomach to flip.

When was the last time she saw a man’s forearm? Nervous laughter almost bubbled out of her but her curiosity tempered it. Her eyes tracked the veins and muscles as they moved and flexed against his taught skin as he lifted heavier tomes to skim through.

She never thought that a man’s arm could be so fascinating, yet here she was salivating over one.

The Duke leaned back in his chair, his hands immediately coming up to rub up and down his face. As his body pushed further back into his chair his shirt pulled against his chestand abdomen showcasing a tight and muscular frame. A small squeak escaped her lips causing Graham to drop his hands.

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