Page 29 of A Scarred Wallflower for the Duke
“Perfection is what every man in thetonis seeking.”
“No.” The Duke shook his head emphatically. “Not every man.”
And before Georgina could make sense of it, his lips were on hers, as though to prevent her from arguing any further.
ChapterSixteen
Georgina found herself sinking into the Duke’s embrace. Found her mouth opening all too willingly beneath his. She had long learned that when it came to the Duke of Levinton, her body had a mind of its own. Never mind what he said or did, or what games they were playing. When he was close to her, all she wanted was to feel him.
The Duke’s lips worked their way down her neck, and over the exposed skin above her collarbone. His kisses were feverish, impassioned, as though he had longed for her touch as she had been longing for his. “Tell me to stop and I shall,” he whispered.
Georgina let out a muffled sigh. “No,” she breathed. “Don’t stop.” She tilted her head, giving his lips access to the creamy white skin on her neck.
His kisses worked their way down her bare arms, over the lines of scarring. And for the first time, Georgina saw a faint glimpse of what it might be like to not be so ashamed of her appearance. Surely, if a man like the Duke of Levinton saw beauty in her, then perhaps…
No. The thought was too dangerous. She was damaged, irrevocably so. To believe otherwise would only hurt her in the long run.
The Duke’s hand slipped below her underskirts, sliding along her shin, and up over her bare knee. Georgina felt her body arch beneath him, seeking more of him. But as she felt the fire inside her build, thoughts began to cram into her head. Thoughts of Lydia and Lord Renshaw, and the Duke at the dinner table married to her sister. She tried to shove them away, trying to focus on the pleasure she had been craving for so long. But the harder she fought to silence her mind, the louder the protests became.
This had been simple at the masquerade ball. She and the Duke had been strangers, and he had no thought of who she was. But now… Now everything was different. Now, this thing could destroy her. Now, these feelings she had for him were threatening to overwhelm her. Break her.
“Stop,” she ground out.
Instantly, the Duke pulled his hands away. Georgina held back a desperate groan, longing to feel him against her again. He held himself over her so he could look into her eyes. “What is wrong, Georgina? Why do you wish me to stop?”
She let out her breath. There were so many reasons why they ought not to be doing this. Lydia, Lord Renshaw, her grandmother, and the Dowager Duchess in the wine cellar. But she realized then that it was none of those reasons that had made her speak. They had just been mere excuses.
“I…” She could barely find the words. In spite of herself, her body was aching for the Duke’s touch. Craving it. And that was far too dangerous.
He stroked her cheek. “Tell me.”
She closed her eyes. Tried again. “I am afraid of the way you make me feel,” she admitted.
“Why?” There was such sincerity in the Duke’s eyes, it made tears well in the back of Georgina’s throat.
“Because…” She tried to make sense of her own tangled thoughts. This was not about her sister. Not really. This was about her. And her own fears. Her fears of losing herself. Of giving her heart to a man who could never return it.
“You do not want to lose control,” the Duke finished.
Georgina closed her eyes, her tears spilling. He was right; he was perfectly right. Losing herself, giving herself to him like this, where could it lead? This man—this man who made her feel things she had never felt before—was to marry her sister. Surely, giving herself to him like this would only end up destroying her.
And yet she longed for it. Craved it like she had never craved anything in her life. Even as she spoke, as she protested, her back was arching, longing for his touch. Her thoughts were so tangled with desire that she could barely think.
The Duke kissed her cheeks gently, his lips capturing her tears. “Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice low.
“Yes.” The word came out without Georgina having any thought of it. She did trust him, she realized. For all his arrogant bluster, she did trust the Duke. Deeply.
“Then allow yourself to lose control for once,” he said. “I promise I shall make you feel better than you have ever felt in your life.” His lips found hers again and he kissed her deeply. Georgina pulled him toward her, craving the friction of his body. Perhaps she had already lost her ability to keep herself in check. Perhaps, when it came to the Duke of Levinton, control had only ever been an illusion.
Boldly, she reached for his hand, placing it back on her bare thigh. She felt him smile against her lips. Felt his hand slide into her hair, tugging it loose. His fingers dug into her flesh for a moment, drawing a cry from deep within her. He pulled his lips from hers suddenly, and Georgina let out a murmur of protest. Then he shoved her petticoats up over her knees and pressed a kiss against her calf. His lips began to work their way up her inner thigh.
“What are you doing?” Georgina gasped, struggling to sit. The fire between her legs was almost unbearable. But she was acutely aware of the intense intimacy of such an act. Painfully self-conscious.
He placed a broad palm flat against her ribs, easing her back onto the chaise. “Relax,” he said. “Just relax. I want to make you feel good.”
“But I—” Georgina’s protest vanished in a gasp the moment his lips found her center. All her thoughts melted away, and at once she was aware only of him and the sensations he was drowning her in. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but this. She was aware only of the Duke, and the way his tongue was moving over her most intimate of places. She heard a desperate moan escape her lips.
She reached for him blindly, digging her fingers into his thick hair. His tongue moved in slow circles, drawing breathless cries from Georgina’s lips. Since the night of the masquerade ball, she had thought of little else beyond the Duke’s touch, but nothing had prepared her for the intensity of this.
