Page 87 of His Unwanted Duchess

He is excited, just as I am.

It was a thrilling notion. Stephen must have read some of what she was thinking in her eyes. He pulled back abruptly and delivered a slightly sharper slap than before, enough to make her yelp.

“Nine.”

She lowered her head until her forehead rested on the table. One left. And then what?

There was a pause. She felt the tug on her thin underthings a fraction of a second before it happened. She only had time to open her eyes and gasp before they were torn away altogether, the fabric tearing under Stephen’s grip, and then there was nothing at all between his palm and her flesh, the heat of his hand burning into her skin.

“Ten,” he murmured, sounding as if it were wrenched out of him.

Beatrice let out a shuddering breath. “Did you not say that fifteen would be more fair?”

He gasped, a ragged sound that Beatrice had never heard before. She found herself whisked off her feet and deposited none-too-gently on her back on the table, papers and books sliding away from her. Stephen was on top of her, his weight thrilling and breathless, and he kissed her roughly and carelessly, his teeth nipping her lower lip.

Beatrice wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hooking one bare leg over his hip.

“I want you to touch me again,” she gasped, the words barely above a whisper. If he hadn’t been so close to her, his lips grazing her throat, he might not have heard.

He made no response, and for a moment, Beatrice thought he had not heard. Then, he pressed a quick, careless kiss to her lips and drew back.

She blinked, breathless, and propped herself up on her elbows. “Stephen?”

“Lie back,” he instructed, his voice hoarse. “Arms by your sides.”

She flinched, obeying. With her skirts bunched up around her waist, she could not see exactly what Stephen was doing. Whenhis lips first touched the soft, damp skin of her inner thighs, she nearly fell off the table.

His mouth moved upwards, tongue and lips and teeth a delightful counterpoint to each other. He had ordered her to keep her arms by her sides, but when his tongue slid over the hot, aching place between her thighs, she could not help reaching down, her fingers tangling in his hair. She was sure she heard him chuckle, the noise a low vibration against her skin.

Her climax came faster and more powerfully than before, making her arch her back, her thighs quivering against Stephen’s hands. It could have been minutes even, before she came back to herself, gasping and shuddering.

She blinked, propping herself up on her elbows again. Stephen looked faintly smug, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“A fitting punishment, I think,” he said, and she was not sure whether he was talking to himself or her.

“It’s your turn,” Beatrice heard herself say. “Come on. Fair is fair.”

He laughed aloud. “Fair is fair, eh? Nobody has ever accusedyouof being a romantic, my dear Duchess.”

She struggled into a sitting position and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. “No,” she said staunchly. “Never.”

And then she kissed him, her hand skimming down to the front of his trousers.

CHAPTER 25

Stephen was feeling very pleased with himself. Hehadoutdone himself. And for a beginner, Beatrice had also done a fairly good job.

The two of them were lying side by side on the table, sprawled on their backs, staring up at the domed ceiling. It wasn’t dark enough for stars yet, and Stephen found himself wishing that it was.

How long had it been? Ten minutes? Fifteen? Longer? He’d lost track of time. His breathing had returned to normal, and some of the sweat on his skin had cooled. When he risked a glance sideways at Beatrice, he saw that she had pulled down her skirts, hiding her bare legs. Her underthings, of course, were beyond repair, the torn fabric left scattered somewhere on the floor among the dislodged papers and books. He would have to remember to pick them up before he left.

“Why am I not allowed in the observatory?” Beatrice suddenly asked.

Stephen stiffened. He’d been fairly sure that this question was coming sooner or later, right from the moment when he drew up those rules. Back then, of course, he’d imagined himself carelessly telling her to mind her own business or something like that.

That seemed out of the question now.

He sighed. “Careful, Duchess, unless you want another round of punishment.”

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