Page 4 of The Mistress
My lips parted, but only air escaped. Because in that moment, I could see what Ironhenge wanted. He wanted Reggie towatch.He wanted Reggie to see me being owned by another man.
And why did that thought make my core quiver? I squeezed my thighs together.
Reggie had stumbled toward the settee, mumbling something, but I could only focus on the Duke, who was picking his way across the carpet toward me.
I kept my chin high as he paced slowly around me, examining me, judging me. He halted to one side, and his hand reached out to grasp my hair.
When he lifted the locks, his calluses caught in the dark curls, tugging at them as he raised them toward his mouth. His mouth? No, he wassmellingthem. Smelling my hair, while holding my gaze.
My heart was pounding in my throat as I watched him. His hum—was that approval, or not?
“Markland tells me you have studied your art.”
My…art? Perhaps my confusion showed, because he allowed one black brow to twitch.
“You have readA Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts? It is…most enlightening.”
Ah.
I swallowed, squeezing my thighs together again to contain the quiver of my core. “I—I have, Your Grace. I know it well.”
This time I wascertainhis hum was one of approval.
I shouldn’t be surprised such a man—a powerful, commanding man—had access to a book likeA Harlot’s Guide. It had recently been republished with stunning illustrations, showing various stages and positions of sexual congress, and Reggie had purchased me a copy I kept in the room where I entertained him.
He would often choose a page and test me on the position, so I was confident in my knowledge of that particular book, and knowing he’dbraggedabout that to someone like the Duke of Ironhenge…
Well, I lifted my chin, my skin tingling with need already.
Until the Duke spoke, his voice just as mild as if he’d been asking about the book again.
“On your knees, whore.”
The command—the insult—was uttered in a bland tone, one expected to be obeyed.
And I didn’t think of ignoring it.
As regally as I could manage, I grasped the silk of my robe in my shaking hands and sunk to my knees.
“Look at me.” This was a growl, and I tipped my head back to meet the Duke’s eyes. “Good girl.” He smiled wolfishly as he reached for the buttons on his trousers. “Do you know page twelve ofA Harlot’s Guide?”
Page twelve.Oh yes, I knew that one.On her knees, as if in prayer, the woman bobs her head, the movement akin to a swan. She takes her lover’s member into her mouth, as deep as she can…
I licked my lips, half nervous, half eager. “The Supplicant Swan,Your Grace.”
“Good girl,” he grunted. “And do you suck cock well?”
My gaze flicked to Reggie, who was sitting upright on the settee, his hands gripping his knees and his wide-eyed expression darting between us.
“Don’t look at him,” Ironhenge barked, and my gaze snapped back to the Duke. His tone eased. “When I’m speaking to you, you will look at me. You will answer when I ask a question. Do you understand?”
I swallowed, my throat dry. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Good girl.” His hands resumed their task, his expression turning speculative as his eyes skimmed over me. “Now, again, do you suck cock well?”
I couldn’t look at Reggie, couldn’t see his response to my admission. “I do, Your Grace.”
“Excellent. Show me.”
