Page 55 of A Duchess Bound
“I punish you.”
Dorothy shivered in anticipation of his touch. His Grace removed his coat, draping it over a nearby chair. The duke’s jacket followed. Dorothy inhaled deeply, trying and failing to calm her racing heart.
His Grace must have been aware of the effect he had on her, but he feigned nonchalance. Dorothy’s mouth went dry as she beheld the sight of him in his shirtsleeves. His eyes remainedfixed on her face as he rolled up his sleeves, revealing his muscular forearms.
“Oh,” Dorothy gasped. “Your Grace…”
He smirked. “I see that you are not immune to my charms,” the duke said, “despite your insistence that you hate me.”
“Maybe I hate how much my body wants you,” she said.
“Lift your hips.”
She did, and he took hold of her skirts, pulling them up slowly. Dorothy shivered from the intensity of his gaze as he gazed at her bare thighs and that quivering place between her legs. “You have experienced release before,” he said lowly. “At my hands. Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes,” she rasped.
His Grace left the skirts all gathered at her waist. Dorothy was exposed from her waist down. Her own bound wrists pressed into the small of her back, heightening her arousal. The duke forced her thighs apart, and Dorothy shifted a little, letting her feet rest at the edge of the bed.
“Then, I intend on denying you such pleasures for a very long time,” he said. “That seems a fitting punishment.”
“Denying me?” she asked, her thighs trembling already. “I am not certain that I can bear being denied, Your Grace.”
He chuckled and squeezed her thighs. A ragged moan tore from her throat.
“We shall find out,” the duke said, trailing his knuckles over the inside of her thighs. “If you take your punishment with grace, I might let you experience a little pleasure.”
Dorothy forced down the lump that rose in her throat. “Very well, Your Grace.”
He knelt before the bed. All she could see was his hair and the outline of his shoulders. Dorothy braced herself, remembering the sensations that had coursed through her when he had licked her down there.
His Grace did not touch her there, however. Instead, the duke gently removed her slippers. She swallowed hard as he caressed her calves. His Grace undid her garters and cast them aside. He took her right leg and gently peeled her stocking down, baring her to him.
Dorothy arched her back and groaned. “You cannot do this,” she said throatily.
“I have only just begun, my lady,” he said darkly. “By the time I am finished, you will beg me for pleasure.”
She tossed her head back. Already, her body burned with need. Did he truly intend to deprive her of pleasure? Dorothy felt as though she would die if he kept touching and denying her. He kissed her calf, and a low whimper escaped her throat.
His Grace slowly trailed kisses up her right thigh. Each kiss was soft and warm, just barely there. Dorothy’s core pulsed with need, and she shifted on the bed, desperate for him to touch her in the place where she wanted him to most. He chuckled, the sound low and reverberating inside his chest. “Struggle all you like. You will have no pleasure until I allow it,” he warned.
She groaned. “You are unkind!”
“Unkind? I am disciplining you for not following my very reasonable requests.”
She lifted her head and met his gaze. With a sly grin, he kissed her hip. Blood roared in Dorothy’s ears. “Please, Your Grace.”
He moved his finger lazily to her core. “Here?”
“Yes!” she gasped. “Yes!”
His Grace pressed against her pearl, and Dorothy writhed against him. Pleasure curled inside her, and she moaned raggedly. He brought his finger down, caressing her sex. Her breath quickened.
She was suddenly too aware of the wetness gathering beneath his finger. He pressed his thumb against her entrance, and dull pain began to build. Dorothy whimpered, her inner walls clenching around his finger. The duke withdrew his thumb and pushed it in again, pumping inside her. Dorothy found the rhythm quickly and pressed back against him, meeting his every thrust with a jolt of her hips.
Dorothy’s body trembled, her muscles tightening. She strained against her bindings, her fingers digging into the fine fabric of his bed linens. A ragged groan tore from her throat. Her muscles all clenched tightly, as desire curled deep inside her body. The desire twisted tighter and tighter until she could bear it no longer. A whimper escaped her as she approached her crisis, and?—
His Grace removed his hand. Dorothy’s inner walls clenched, her hips jolted, and she cried out. She was nearly mad with need, and he had withdrawn his hand.
