Page 31 of His Forbidden Duchess
What he hadn’t expected was quite how passionate their kiss would become. He’d only meant to tease and taste her, to possess another memory of her that he could amuse himself with once she married that buffoon, Mortcombe.
When she had pressed her body against his, the excitement that had been asleep in his soul had immediately reawakened. They had barely begun to dance when he’d felt the tightening in his groin. It had been a long time since a woman could elicit such a potent response from him.
Yet, Eloise possessed that magic.
What have you done to enchant me so?” he muttered, narrowing his eyes as he gazed at the hearth.
“Your Grace?” the footman said from behind. “Is there something I can fetch for you?”
Felix startled, turned, and shook his head. “No, George. I was thinking aloud. Nothing of importance. You may take the rest of the day off if you wish.”
The footman’s eyes widened. “The day off, Your Grace?”
Felix waved him away. “Yes. Enjoy yourself. Leave me in peace.”
“Very well, Your Grace.” George dashed out of the room before Felix could change his mind.
Not that Felix would. He needed some privacy to allow his thoughts to wander.
He lay back in his chair and thought of his beautiful Eloise and the spell she had cast upon him.
Once she returned home, Eloise had barely slept. In fact, she had hardly done much of anything. It was already afternoon, but her body had still not recovered from the excitement of the previous night. Her skin felt alive and was sensitive to the lightest touch. The brush of fabric made her shiver. The knot in her stomachwas begging to be unwound. Her moist thighs whimpered for more.
She had informed her mother that she had a headache and found herself lying in bed when it was barely four o’clock. It was true in a way. There was tension in her body. It was just a little lower than her head.
She lay under the sheets and stared up at the ceiling, allowing the events of the previous night to flood through her mind. She vividly recalled the taste of his lips, the feel of his fingers in her hair, and the way she had boldly brushed against his manhood, feeling the tightness there and wanting more.
“Oh, Felix,” she whispered longingly.
She thought of things he had said about pleasuring herself. Of quenching her thirst by exploring her body. Eloise recalled all the previous times she had tried and failed because she had refused to give herself permission. But she had permission now, didn’t she? Felix had given her the permission she’d needed.
Slowly, her hand crawled beneath the bed sheets to inch up her nightgown. Though the sensation pleased her, it was not as strong or as intense as it had been the night before.
She closed her eyes and pictured him as she pressed her finger against herself and parted her moist folds.
“Oh,” she sighed, her index finger circling the nub of her most private parts. “Oh, Felix.”
There was no denying that it felt good. Eloise once again felt the titillating humiliation she had experienced the previous night, imagining Felix imagining her. The thought excited her, and her finger circled her nub with increasing speed to keep up with her rapid breathing and heartbeat.
She imagined him standing over her and watching her, directing her, telling her where to put her fingers next, always with that self-satisfied, smug grin on his face. The one she loved to hate.
Eloise arched her head back into the pillow, willing erotic images of Felix to come forward and add to her arousal, but they were just outside of her grasp. She craved to relive the intensity she had experienced with him. She wanted to be enveloped by the scent of him. By his body.
Felix will never want me as anything more than a plaything.
As the unwelcome thought appeared in her head, her desire melted away. It was no longer a sensual, permissible exploration but a dirty act suggested to her by a known rake.
What would her future husband think if he ever discovered her shameful behavior?
Eloise rolled onto her side, tucked her hands beneath the pillow, and relinquished herself to an evening of self-pity.
Chapter Thirteen
An entire week had passed before Felix found himself at the next social event: a ball that he would have been reluctant to attend were it not for the possibility that he would see Eloise.
He had not stopped thinking about her since their aborted private dance lesson: the curve of her spine as she pressed her body against him and the taste of her lips, like sunlight mixed with the finest red wine.
With a sigh, he immediately went in search of Percy. That is what he needed—distraction by a man who would not allow him to wallow in anything, let alone Eloise Manning. He marched immediately to the drinks table at the far end of the ballroom.
