Page 59 of Duchess in Disguise
When he pushed the gown down over her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet, Isobel instinctively moved to cover herself. But Richard caught her hands, bringing them to his lips.
“Do not hide from me,” he said quietly. “You are beautiful, Isobel. So incredibly beautiful.”
The sincerity in his voice gave her courage, and she let her hands fall to her sides. Richard's gaze traveled over her slowly, and she could clearly see the desire burning in his eyes as she had seen the anger flare for her safety. His jaw clenched, and she could tellhe was fighting to stay in control, and a shiver of satisfaction ran through her.
With a surge of courage, she reached for his coat, ignoring the way her fingers trembled as she grabbed the lapels.
“My turn,” Isobel said, the corner of her lips pulling into a self-satisfied smirk.
She half expected Richard to resist or refuse, but instead, he assisted her, easily shrugging out of the garment and tossing it aside. His waistcoat followed right after, then his cravat landed on the pile next, until he stood before her in just his shirt and breeches. Even through the thin fabric of his shirt, Isobel could see the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, and she found herself reaching out to touch, fascinated by the way he tensed under her exploration.
“You beautiful, wicked thing… You are torturing me,” Richard groaned as her fingers traced the ridges of muscle beneath his shirt.
“Good,” Isobel replied with a small smile, in awe of the taunt, solid feel of him beneath her fingers. “You said I needed to be punished. Perhaps you deserve some punishment as well.”
Richard's eyes flashed with something dark and promising. “Is that so?”
Before Isobel could respond, he had lifted her into his arms and carried her to the workbench, setting her down on its edge. The wood was smooth and cool beneath her, and she gasped at the sensation.
Richard stepped between her legs, spreading them to make room for himself, and Isobel felt her face heat at the intimacy of the position. But then his mouth was on hers again, kissing her senseless, and all thoughts of embarrassment fled.
His hands roamed over her body with increasing urgency, squeezing her breast, gripping and caressing her thighs, and Isobel found herself arching into his touch, craving more. When his fingers found the sensitive peak of her breast through the thin fabric of her chemise, she cried out, the sound muffled against his mouth.
“So responsive,” Richard murmured against her lips. “Do you like that, Isobel? Do you like the way I touch you?”
“Yes,” Isobel gasped, too far gone to spare a thought about propriety or shame. “Yes, please–”
“Please what?” Richard asked, his fingers teasing, circling, but never quite giving her what she needed. “Tell me what you want.”
She did not know if the punishment was making her forfeit shame or simply the act of his denying what she needed.
“– I do not know,” Isobel admitted, frustrated by her own inexperience. “I just need – more. Please, Richard.”
“I will give you everything. Whatever you want, you will have,” Richard promised breathlessly.
And then his mouth was on her breast, his tongue working her nipple through the fabric until she was writhing beneath him, helpless with pleasure.
His hand slid lower, bunching up her chemise until his fingers found the wet heat between her legs. Isobel cried out at the contact, her hips jerking forward involuntarily.
“Look at you, so wet already,” Richard groaned, his fingers exploring her folds with maddening slowness. “God, Isobel, you are perfect.”
He found a spot that made her see stars, and Isobel grabbed his shoulders, her nails digging into his shirt as pleasure crashed over her in waves. Richard worked that spot relentlessly, his fingers moving in circles that drove her higher and higher toward something she could not name but desperately needed.
“That is it,” Richard encouraged, his voice rough. “Let go, Isobel. Let me see you come undone.”
The tension building inside her reached a peak, and Isobel felt herself teetering on the edge of something vast andoverwhelming. But just as she was about to tip over, Richard's hand stilled.
“No,” Isobel whimpered and sobbed, her hips moving frantically, seeking the friction she had lost. “Please, do not stop–”
“I believe I told you there would be consequences,” Richard said casually, though his voice was strained with his own desire. “You were caught far too easily. You did not even try to hide properly.”
“Richard, please–”
“Beg me,” he commanded, his fingers resuming their torturous circles but at a slow pace that was driving her utterly mad. “Beg me prettily, and perhaps I will let you finish.”
Isobel flushed a brilliant red, struggling to come to terms with the conditions he had stated. Within her, pride engaged in a battle with desperation, but desperation emerged the victor.
“Please,” Isobel gasped moments later, trying to tug him closer by the grip she had on his shoulder. “Please, Richard, I need – I need you to–”
