Page 17 of In Scandal with the Duke
She nodded, and he slowly lowered his hand. He could feel the harsh jerking of her heart against his body. “Your … Your Grace?” she questioned softly.
“Yes.”
“I—”
A low, sensual laugh sounded, and she stiffened against him. James glanced up and observed a lady giggling in Lord Egbert's arms. Ah, so this was the reason Miss Armstrong fled toward the darkness.
“Peter,” the lady gasped, “here? How can we be so naughty?”
The man leaned down and whispered something to the lady, and then they started kissing.
“Have they gone?” Miss Armstrong whispered.
“No.”
“They … what are they doing?”
“Given the way they cling to each other, they are about to tup.”
She delicately cleared her throat. “Tup? What is that?”
The naivety in the question rattled James, reminding him that he should not be hidden in a dark alcove with a woman like Elizabeth Armstrong.
“They are going to do the very thing mothers warn their daughters rakes would do if caught alone.”
“Oh.” The soft curiosity and wonder in her tone tightened his gut.
“Is that what they call it here in England?Tup? How novel.”
Miss Armstrong surprised him by turning around so she could watch them. Most young ladies would have possibly fainted, started to sob, or did some other nonsense and revealed their presence. The couples were coming together in passionate haste, their kissing frantic.
The lady leaned against the water fountain, and the young viscount dropped to his knee and pushed his head beneath her skirt.
A ragged breath slipped from Elizabeth, and James thought the lady might be unaware that she leaned against his chest as if she needed the support.
“My good sense is telling me that I should look away,” she whispered shakily.
The lady screamed and Miss Armstrong jolted.
“What is he doing to her?”
“He is licking her.”
“Where?” she said softly, her tone scandalized.
“Her sex.”
Miss Armstrong made another soft sound; this time, it kissed over his body and traveled to settle against the base of his cock. James gritted his teeth until his dam jaw ached. There was no damn reason for him to stay with her sensual curves pressed against him, watching another couple steal a moment of pleasure.
The lady’s moan grew louder, and Miss Armstrong turned around, pressing her forehead against his chest. James smiled, feeling the heat generated by her blushing. Though she hid her face, the noises they made were inescapable. He could grab her arms and tug her deeper into the garden and away from the couple, but a wicked deviltry made him stay in place.
“Peter,” the lady gasped when he lifted her weight, pressing her against the fountain, and slammed inside her.
“Not so loud,” he groaned when she cried out.
Miss Armstrong had fisted his jacket, her fingers digging into the material, her heart slamming so hard James felt it. Her breathing was ragged, and she pressed her forehead more against his chest. The sounds the couple made were indeed arousing.
“You can watch,” he suggested.
