Page 41 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin

Spurred on by her reaction, Ethan continued. “You would enjoy it, too, taking orders from me. I will make sure of it.”

He watched as her white teeth caught her bottom lip, her nostrils flaring ever so slightly as her eyes darkened with the telltale signs of lust. Her cheeks were a delectable pink, her decolletage flushed.

“You will beg for me, Duchess,” he told her in a low voice. “Beg for me to touch you in places you have never been touched before. And then…” He paused as her little tongue darted out to wet her parted lips.

Who was seducing who? Ethan was not so sure anymore.

“And then, you would beg for me to sink myself so deep inside you that you would never be able to leave my bed,” he finished, finding himself oddly captivated by the image he had spun for her.

Of their naked limbs entwined between the silken sheets of his bed.

Of her with her thighs spread before him while he devoured her innermost flesh.

She had once asked if Wolves like him ate people. Ethan would gladly devour her and leave her quivering, wracked by orgasms, right before he thrust his aching cock into her sweet, sweet depths…

If only she would let him.

“How… lovely,” she murmured, raising those lust-filled eyes to his, nearly bringing him to his knees. “But if you cannot give me your love, then you cannot have my body.”

There it was again—that wall between them.

Must he dash himself over and over against it? Battering her defenses until she gave in?

“I could give you so much pleasure,” he told her.

But she shook her head. “I would not allow a rake like you to touch me.”

Her walls held fast. Her will was like an indomitable fortress.

He could use all the weapons he had in his arsenal and still, she would stand firm before him. Majestic. Unbowed. Unconquered.

But every fortress had to have its weakness, and there were ways around walls.

“Very well.” He stood up, grinning mischievously at her. He strode to the door andlockedit from the inside. “Then you shall touch yourself, Duchess.”

He had locked them in.

Her heart hammered in her chest—not from fear, no, but from sheerexcitement.

Had she pushed him too far? Had she demanded too much of him as her husband?

He did not force himself on her, and yet he was being thoroughly wicked.

Touch yourself.

Could she really? Right here in the breakfast room, with the morning light streaming in through the windows?

It sounded so sinful. Sowrong.

But desire licked at her skin like flames, scorching her from within until she let out a soft sound akin to a whimper.

And between her legs, there was that strange throbbing that would not abate.

“Have you ever touched yourself, Phoebe?” he asked her softly.

She shook her head and let out a slight laugh. How could he even ask her that question?

“Of course not.”

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