Page 66 of A Duchess Disciplined

Her breath hitched, and she spread her legs apart. Catherine’s core pulsed, and her blood roared in her ears. She was so exposed to him and anyone else who might happen into the bedchamber.

‘Wider,” he said.

Catherine tilted her hips forward, vying for a more comfortable position. She spread her thighs so far apart that it nearly hurt, and William grinned victoriously. “Your task is not to make a sound,” he said. “If you can manage that, I will reward you.”

She wanted to ask how, but because he had bid her to be silent, she only nodded. William knelt before her and placed his hands on her thighs, his thumbs caressing her bare skin. Catherine’s breath came in uneven gasps for air. He could see her wetness glistening on her thighs.

“Close your eyes. I did not say that you could open them.”

She did, dread and desire mingling within her. Catherine felt something wet press against her core, and a gasp ripped from her throat. It was histongue!

“Quiet,” he reminded her, his breath warm against the coils of hair between her legs.

She clenched the arms of the chair so hard that her knuckles hurt. William’s tongue flicked once more against her center, and her inner walls clenched. He drew his tongue over her pearl and down between her lower lips. Catherine’s hips bucked, and her legs quivered. She clenched her jaw tightly and furrowed her brow, trying not to cry out.

Her muscles all became tense, and her release coiled inside her. The need grew greater and greater until she felt that she could endure it no longer. Catherine felt as though she must break if she was forced to remain silent for just another second. William’s tongue on her thighs and the stinging ache across her buttocks and the dull pain of her nipples all became too much.

“Oh, William!” she cried out, as her orgasm crashed into her.

White light obliterated her vision, and she shattered with the wave of pleasure. It lasted for only an instant, but it felt to Catherine as though she had left her own body. She remained, damp with sweat, panting in the chair.

“You did mostly well,” William said. “Until the very end.”

She opened her eyes, and he grinned at her, looking entirely too satisfied with himself. Catherine’s mind raced as she desperately tried to find some clever retort. Her body and mind were so spent that she could find nothing, though.

“Stand.”

Catherine rose on trembling legs, and William pulled her into his arms. Her body felt so sensitive and exhilarated that the fabric of his waistcoat and jacket felt rough against her. “You seem tired. Perhaps, a brief respite?”

“Yes,” she breathed, finding her voice at last.

In a single, fluid motion, he swept her off her feet. Catherine gasped at the sudden movement, and he only grinned. “Let us take a rest, my dearest wife, and once you are recovered, I think I shall make use of you for my own pleasure.”

Catherine shivered. “You have such a way with words,” she murmured, as the tiredness seeped into her.

William carried her to bed and laid her upon the bedlinens. She gasped for air, her muscles relaxed, and her eyelids fluttered. Catherine’s final thought was that she was—most certainly—a devoted student, if nothing else.

CHAPTER21

William wondered what his friend Hamilton might have said about the matter. Although he was quite certain that Catherine was not yet the proper duchess that he needed her to be, it did strike William as though the situation was a little odd. Perhaps, even unreasonable. It was not as if Catherine did notknowhow to be a lady, after all. She simply did not behave as though she ought to. However, she was still a lady and a woman; she was not a child who needed someone to guide her through everything.

Nevertheless, William had thought it best to try attending some other occasion before going to Wyte’s ball. Lady Beckingworth’s garden party seemed as though it would be the perfect opportunity for Catherine to make her appearance before the ton. It was certain to be a more intimate affair than the ball and less well attended, and William knew that he could depend on Hamilton to smooth over any scandals that Catherine might inadvertently cause.

“You look very dashing today, Your Grace,” said Edward, his valet. “If I may say so myself.”

William said nothing. He looked as he always did. There was nothing particularly special about his appearance, and little vexed William more than when his servants turned into simpering sycophants in an effort to please him.

“I shall see if Her Grace is ready,” he said brusquely.

Edward bowed and hastened away. At least, he had a good head for being a valet. He did not try to befriend William, as some of his previous valets had.

William left his bedchamber and made to enter the duchess’s chambers. He turned the knob to the door and opened it. At once, a peal of laughter sliced through the air. William halted, for he recognized that the joyous, feminine sound must certainly be his wife’s laugh. Never before had he heard her express such merriment. What was the source of such joy? It certainly could not be dressing for the garden party.

He paused, straining to hear.

“I do not believe that I have ever been told I looked like a daffodil before.” Catherine’s voice drifted faintly through her bedchamber and the small parlor, which the duchess’s chambers opened into. “I must thank you for the creative compliment. In truth, I am rather fond of the colorjonquil, but it is one that I seldom wear.”

“Why not?” Hannah asked. “It looks lovely on you.”

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