Page 63 of The Duke of Fire
“I mean that I will not tolerate it the next time. When I call for you again, you will not defy me. You will come to the place I asked you to come. Is that understood, Miss Warton?”
Her name almost sounded like a curse, like a response to how she addressed him formally. But she nodded, then, her heart pounding. When she swallowed, her throat felt dry and raw. No, it was not fear that made her feel this way, at least not in the traditional sense. She feared that he was stirring something more dangerous in her, something that should not have woken up.
Amelia should protest this situation. Her knees might not be on the hard floor, but the rug made them burn just a little. Still leaning toward her, Sebastian held her by the wrist, rubbing the skin at the back of his hand with his thumb. It was almost tender, making her almost cry.
“Return to the ballroom before anyone notices that you are not there yet,” he murmured, as he seemed to battle with himself. “I am afraid I might do something we will both regret.”
“What if I do not want to get up?” Hesitation left her on all fours. Her body trembled as she tried to obey, rise, and leave the room. Her body felt heavy, though, and something seemed to root her in place.
You need to get up.
The voice in her head tried to pull her out of her stupor, which was both delicious and appalling. However, before she could even raise a part of her body, he had circled behind her once more, holding down her shoulder with a firm grip. It was not painful, but it had her gasping.
“I have changed my mind, Miss Warton,” he declared. “You see that? That was hesitation. You need to learn how to obey.”
She knew he was merely explaining away his own internal conflict. She knew it was wrong, but she did not want to leave.
“How will you punish me, then?” she asked cheekily.
His response made her yelp in surprise. His palm had come down sharply on her bottom. She quickly felt the sting.
“Sebastian!” she exclaimed.
The pain bloomed within her, but it also did something. Something unexpected. It transformed the hit into warmth, and it was spreading. Spreading. Until it pooled low in her belly.
“One more time,” he commanded, as if he did not expect any protest. He let another smack land on her buttocks once more. This one was harder, making her fingers clutch at the rug likeclaws. She let out a whimper but did not attempt to rise.
Then, there was more. It was a relentless rhythm. Amelia never thought spanking could send reverberations through her body as it made her body move backward and forward. He slowed down, though, until she swore she could hear him sobbing. As if he were the one hurt. Then, there were caresses, soothing the spankings. Even the hands that moved over her hips and buttocks followed the same rhythm.
Backward and forward.
She felt herself growing wetter and wetter. It felt like she was about to reach her pinnacle, but he kept on stopping just when she got close. She writhed. When she pumped her hips up and down to alleviate the feeling, he gave her another smack.
Sebastian’s punishment was her awakening. He had recognized that part of her that wanted to be let out so badly. Another smack, and she moaned aloud. She heard him curse under his breath, frustration seeping out from him, too.
“Do you understand what will happen when you defy me once more?” he asked, his voice conveying the same suffering she was going through. His words might be rough, but the hand that was caressing her buttocks, as if to soothe the pain he inflicted, was not. She wanted him to touch her more. Touch her all over. “Do you understand, Miss Warton?”
Pleasure and pain held her prisoner, so much so that it was difficult to respond without moving her hips or trying to clamp her thighs together.
“Yes,” she whimpered. “I understand now.”
It was at that moment that he sought to torture her more. He bent behind her, letting his chest press against her back. She bit her lip as she tried not to moan at his nearness. She felt something rigid press on her buttocks. Was that him? She moaned again. In pleasure. In approval. He snaked one hand around to squeeze her aching breast and touch her nipple. She yelped, but she wanted more. Was he going to give her something that would soothe her aching soul?
No.
Sebastian, the arrogant Duke of Firaine, quickly stood up and praised her, “Good girl.”
She recognized it for what it was. It was dismissal. His punishment ended there, but the true punishment had just begun. She was frustrated and trembling with lust, and he would not give her release.
“Amelia?”
She looked up and saw him watching her with a softer gaze, almost as if she were valuable to him. It took only one look, and she ran to him. He pulled her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. They kissed. It was hungry and desperate.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his breath against her lips.
“Y-yes. No,” she groaned as he kissed her some more.
Slowly, he guided her to recline against the cushions. His hands moved with reverence as he loosened the fastenings of her gown—not to remove it, but to reveal just enough. He bowed his head and kissed each inch with aching care, as if committing her to memory.
