Page 37 of A Duchess Disciplined

“You have said that you are not a proper lady,” His Grace said. “That was why our marriage had a stipulation that you would beproper in public. Proper ladies are taken to bed.Improper ladiesare taken like this.”

Catherine’s breath hitched. She had no retort for that, but she—she did not want to leave this moment and go to bed. Catherine wanted to know what would happen next and how it would feel, and that same impossible tightness was twisting inside her once again.

She bent a little more and turned her head, letting her cheek rest atop her hands. Catherine spread her thighs further apart, and despite the warmth of the room, the air seemed cool against her exposed maidenhood. His Grace withdrew his hand and instead used it to guide his member to her entrance. He pressed against her, and Catherine groaned. She arched her back, torn between pushing herself against him and pulling away.

“You are so wet and ready for me,” His Grace said. “You were anticipating this. I imagine you laid in bed, restless every night wanting me to do just this to you.”

The words seemed to curl around inside her mind, awakening desires that she had not even known she had.

“I—I did,” she confessed.

He pressed slowly inside her, and Catherine’s inner walls pressed against him. She writhed beneath him, wanting more of him and desperately trying to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation of his girth pressing so hard against her.

He did not hurry to fully enter her. Instead, he acted as though he had all the time in the world to complete the act, and slowly, Catherine’s muscles loosened. With slow and steady strokes, he fully sheathed himself in her. Catherine gasped, her thoughts too scattered to even form coherently.

He drew himself out and slid in again. And again. With every thrust, Catherine’s body pushed against him, urging him to go deeper and faster. He grasped the back of the loveseat, one hand stretched on each side of her. She looked over her shoulder, so that she might see him. As if guessing her intentions, he tilted his head, so their eyes met. Catherine bucked like a wild animal, desperate to reach that same pinnacle of feeling once again.

“Oh, please!” she exclaimed.

She couldfeelthat sensation curling within her. It was like a feeling of desperation that swept through her entire being, like a discomfort that she was desperate to soothe, for once she did, it would be wonderful. With every thrust of his manhood, that feeling curled stronger inside her. Soon, she was gasping, and her body shook.

Distractedly, she wondered if anyone had expired while trying to reach this point. Wasthatwhy the French called it thepetit mort, the little death? She moved as fast as she could, and that feeling grew tighter and tighter inside her.

Then—the wave of pleasure overcame her once again, and she shouted in pleasure. Her body shook, and His Grace pounded into her. Then, he trembled, and warmth spread inside Catherine. She gasped for air—all her muscles becoming lax. He withdrew himself and planted a fierce kiss on her cheek.

To her surprise, he drew her into his arms and swept her off her feet. Catherine scrambled to keep from pitching out of his grasp and onto the floor. “You are spent,” he said. “Let me take you to bed.”

She did not argue. Instead, she let her muscles all go lax and remained docile in his grasp. He carried her effortlessly to her bed and laid her down upon the soft linens, which smelled faintly of English lavender.

“Well done,” he said. “Consider yourself a passable duchess—for the moment.”

Catherine’s breath shuddered, and she pressed her cheek against the pillow. Strangely, she was filled with the sudden desire to sleep. Although she had not noticed any building exhaustion, tiredness had come over her without warning. “I—I thought I was an improper lady,” she rasped.

“An improper lady,” he said, “but you have fulfilled your marital duties. I shall leave you now.”

“Leave me?”

“Yes. Would you like the maids to prepare a bath for you?”

Catherine closed her eyes, trying to understand everything that had just happened. She did not even have the words for it, and if she had, Catherine still suspected that no amount of instruction would have prepared her for this moment. She was suddenly, pleasantly tired and spent.

“I think I wish to rest, Your Grace.”

When her husband did not answer, Catherine peered over her shoulder at him. He considered her for a long moment with his heated eyes. Then, he fastened his trousers once again.

“Of course,” he said. “Send for the maids when you like.”

“Yes.”

“Good night,” the duke said, nodding curtly.

Catherine blinked at him, caught off guard. He seemed to have become a different person in an instant. She did not know him well, but at the realization that he was leaving her, Catherine found herself feeling…strangely forlorn.

She was too proud to ask him to stay.

CHAPTER11

William had a wife. That was good. It wasstrange.

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