Page 43 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

“And what does that mean?” she snarled back.

He laughed as he took a step closer, standing over her now, so close that he could feel the heat of her breath. “That first time we met, it was lucky that my grandmother interrupted us when she did. Luckly for you, I mean.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“And the second time?” he pressed on her, daring to reach out, his hand gripping her waist in a way that should have had her pushing him back only she stepped into it.

“Ah, you mean when you attacked me…” She flashed her eyes at him and licked her lips hungrily.

“Is that what I did?” he pretended to think. “You did not seem to mind.”

“I was caught off guard,” she said warningly, still allowing his hand to grip her waist. “I will not make the same mistake again.”

“I do not remember you pushing me away.”

“Would that stop you.” Her eyes flicked to his hand and then back to meet his eyes. “I never took you for one who liked being told what to do.”

“I could say the same of you.”

“And the punishment you threatened me with? Perhaps…” A smirk which she turned into a scowl as she held his gaze. “Perhaps I was scared.”

“I would not take you for one to cower so easily.”

“And I would not take you for one to back down, regardless of how repulsive I find you.” Somehow, she stepped in ever closer, almost under him, looking up now so as to hold his stare.

“I am not used to not getting what I want,” he growled, his heart beginning to rise as his arousal grew. Even if she could not see it, surely, she could feel it, the way his pants tightened, threatening to burst. “And I meant what I said.”

“You’ll have to remind me for you have said so many things.”

“About…” Hesitation, for he had reached a point of no return. He could feel her heart racing with his own. He could feel her breathing tremble. She wanted this as much as he did, both seeming to know how wrong it was, both not caring. “About having to punish you.”

She hesitated at that, seemed to consider. “Wh - what sort of punishment?” Her voice trembled.

“One that you most deserve,” he breathed. “But I suppose that depends on how bad you have been. Tell me, Miss Dowding, have you been bad?”

He could see it in her eyes, fear mixed with temptation. She didn’t know exactly what he spoke of, but she wanted it. “I followed you in here, did I not? I refused to leave.”

“You will have to do better than that.”

“And if you let me leave right now, I will… I will…” she considered. “I will tell everyone at this party what a monster you are. That you… that you threw me out. Mistreated me, even.”

“You would not dare.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Care to take that chance.”

His other hand moved to her waist. “I best not let you leave then.”

“You best not.”

That was when he broke.

Still holding her by the waist, still glaring down at her, teeth bared and vicious, he moved one hand to the back of her head, gripped it firmly, and then pulled her forward to meet his lips. They pressed together in a glorious combination of skin and saliva and tongue, mouths opening, tongues lapping, breath catching as they devoured one another right there on the couch.

His other hand squeezed her tightly, and she gasped but did not move away, both her hands around his face now, holding him there as they continued to kiss. It was ecstasy, the taste of her, the feel of her trembling and purring and moaning as they melted into one another. Such an intoxicating sensation that Frederick did not want to stop.

In the back of his mind, thoughts of punishing her raged. What he wanted to do. How he wanted to do it. And as his mind whirred with the possibilities, one oh so tantalizing idea came to mind.

Frederick tore his lips free, loving how she followed him like a hungry puppy.

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