Page 87 of The Good Duke
“Or is it you’re thinking about something different? Hmm?” Simon dangled his proposition forth like the serpent with an apple. “Perhaps, this time, you want my mouth on you, my tongue inside your soaking wet channel.”
Persephone grew wet all over again, and she pressed her legs together to bring some relief to the keen ache there.
“You’ve gone quiet,” he murmured. “Cat got your tongue, Persephone?” He flashed another slow grin. “Lucky cat.”
Never breaking contact with her gaze, Simon, with an infinite slowness, took those same fingers that had stroked her to surrender, and which still shone with the gleam left by her juices, into his mouth and sucked.
Her breath caught.
Then, with a smug grin, he removed them and tucked his impressive erection back inside his trousers, then returned as casual as could be across the room and over to his desk.
With his retreat, Persephone hurriedly tugged her neckline back into place and smoothed her dress into its proper place.
Since how and when had Simon become so blastedgoodat disarming a lady? It’d always been Persephone who’d, on occasion, unsettled him. Now that the slipper was on the opposite foot, she found herself rather detesting being on the other side of it.
She stole a downward glance and frowned.
Hopelessly wrinkled and rumpled as her skirts were, there could be no doubting what she and the duke had been up to this day.
When she glanced up, she found Simon seated and his face a perfect expressionless mask.
This is really enough, Persephone. You are better than this.
Persephone started over to Simon’s desk with a pace as measured as his own leisurely stroll.
Bypassing a seat in favor of the height advantage she secured over him, Persephone remained standing at the foot of Simon’s desk.
“We both needed to do this, Simon.”
“Slake our obvious lust for one another?”
“I would simply call it lust, no one another involved,” she said, clearing that up.
His brow dipped.
“Now that we’ve settled that,” she said, dusting her palms together, “may I suggest we return to the actual business we have together?”
Narrowing his eyes, Simon reclined in his austere, high-backed chair. “What exactly wassettled?” He quirked an eyebrow. “That throbbing ache you had between your legs?”
Fortunately for Persephone, in her tenure, she’d fielded all number of insults, unexpected questions, and more from her troublesome students. She managed to keep her features impassive.
“I’d wager you’re wet even now, Persephone.”
Even the wickedness of his words sent another rush of heat to her throbbing center. “You’d lose, Simon.”
She lied through her teeth. Had he slapped that bet down at White’s, he’d have won a fortune.
“Short of coming over here and discovering for yourself,” she drawled, “your arrogant supposition will remain unverified.”
Simon flashed a wicked grin. “That is one way to be sure…” He made to stand as if to come and test for himself.
Reflexively, Persephone backed away.
With a little laugh, one that said he’d been bluffing, Simon settled himself into his chair once more.
She continued to forget, where he’d used to be wholesome and pure, grown Simon had become raffish and naughty. It was the reason he continued tripping her up.
Persephone smoothed her features. For now, he may have the advantage, but he was about to cede the upper hand over to her.
