Page 31 of A Virgin for the Forbidden Duke

Matthew moaned around her soft flesh and licked her hard, achy nub slowly, then faster, then slower, then faster again. He sucked on it, flicked it with his tongue, teased it with the tip of his tongue. He did everything that could make her feel good. Everything that could drive her crazy with so much desire.

And she did. Her legs started shaking, and her fingers tightened in his hair. Her hips rose off the wall, and she cried out loudly.

He smiled against her wetness and continued to suck on her nub, making her orgasm over and over again. This time, she screamed, and her body shook hard. She held onto his head and cried out in pleasure. He kept sucking on her clit and licking her till she stopped shaking.

She pulled him up, kissing him passionately.

What did they say about men like him? Stay away from them sounded more like it.

But Agnes wasn’t so sure it made sense.

CHAPTER11

At the art gallery event, Agnes and Matthew, amidst the vibrant hues of paintings and the hushed murmurs of the crowd, found themselves irresistibly drawn to a secluded room.

Their eyes met, a silent agreement passing between them as they discreetly slipped away from the bustling gallery.

For the hundredth time this week.

The atmosphere in the secluded room was different—an intimate cocoon where various beautiful artworks were displayed on the walls.

Without a word, Matthew took Agnes’s hand, his touch sending a thrill down her spine. The air between them crackled with a shared understanding as they explored the room, the soft glow of hidden lights casting a warm ambiance.

In a corner, a particularly captivating painting caught their attention. Agnes couldn’t help but share her thoughts.

“Matthew, look at this. The artist has captured a moment so raw and intense. It’s almost as if you can feel the emotions leaping off the canvas.”

Matthew, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion, replied, “Art has a way of conveying the inexpressible, much like the connection between two souls.”

As they continued to meander through the gallery, Matthew’s hand lingered on the small of Agnes’s back, a gesture that spoke volumes in the silent language they shared. The murmur of the crowd outside the room became distant as they lost themselves in the gallery of emotions painted by their connection.

A particularly captivating sculpture drew them closer. Agnes traced her fingers over its contours, the cool marble contrasting with the warmth of Matthew’s touch. Their eyes met, a magnetic pull drawing them into an unspoken dance.

In the quietude of the secluded room, with the artworks bearing witness to their desires, Matthew’s lips found Agnes’s in a stolen kiss. The taste of passion lingered between them, painting sensations Agnes had never fathomed.

The air hummed with the unspoken intensity of their connection, and as they reluctantly left the secluded room, the vibrant artworks seemed to pale in comparison to the masterpiece they had created in each other’s company.

Through each clandestine meeting, Agnes’s heart danced to the rhythm of their connection and desire.

However, as these moments lingered in Agnes’s heart, a subtle worry began to blossom. She couldn’t help but wonder why Matthew hesitated to show any interest in her openly.

Agnes cherished the growing connection but couldn’t shake the worry about its confined nature. She couldn’t escape the nagging thought of why Matthew kept their connection hidden.

Why he always avoided her when there were people around.

The contrast between their private encounters and Matthew’s reluctance to show any public interest left her feelings in disarray. She yearned for reassurance, wondering if their moments together were just fleeting shadows or if Matthew shared the depth of her feelings.

The worry about the true nature of their connection became a silent melody, echoing in the secret corners of her heart.

“I really don’t know why he always keeps such a face on when we’re out.”

Agnes gasped, snapping out of her thoughts as Letitia spoke. Agnes, yet to comprehend what Letitia had just said, just stood there, staring at her.

Letitia, amused, chuckled and nodded toward the direction Agnes was staring at a moment ago. “I’m talking about my brother. He is always brooding at social events.”

As Letitia’s words penetrated Agnes’s contemplative haze, she gasped, her attention redirected. Letitia’s laughter echoed through the air, and Agnes, still processing the revelation, looked toward the direction Letitia had indicated.

“Oh, you mean the Duke,” Agnes replied, a lightness replacing the worry in her eyes. “Always brooding, you say?”

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