Page 52 of A Wallflower to Seduce the Duke

She was untutored in the ways between men and women as were many unmarried females of her age and status. As she laid there on the stone bench while he stroked her with his tongue, all rational thought soon fled her—all that mattered was the wet warmth of his tongue doing such wicked things to her.

And she wanted none of it to stop. She wanted nothing more than to let him have his wicked way with her over and over and over again.

Blind to everything else but the carnal delights he was giving her, Emily vaguely felt him circle her entrance with his finger before he gently slid it within her. Her eyes flew wide open in surprise at the slow intrusion within her tight channel. She felt herself clench against that foreign sensation.

“Relax, sweet one,” he murmured against her flesh. “Let me fulfill my last promise to you.”

She nodded weakly and allowed him to resume his delicious torment upon her as his finger slowly inched within her until it sank fully within her.

“Does it hurt you, sweet Emily?” he asked her softly.

She shook her head. “No…it just feels…different.”

“All right.”

She opened her eyes and watched him sit up, an expression of great concentration on his handsome features. Briefly, his eyes met hers.

“You must tell me if I am hurting you in any way,” he told her.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

He chuckled. “Such a good girl you are, Emily.”

He slowly withdrew his finger from within her, and she gasped when it sparked a different, highlypleasurablesensation.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No…no, Your Grace. On the contrary,” she flushed in embarrassment. “It feels rather wonderful.”

He smiled. “Very well, then.”

He slid his finger back inside, and she moaned. “Oh…Your Grace…!”

“More?”

“Oh, dear God, yes!”

She heard him laugh softly as he began to slowly pulse his finger in and out of her tight, wet heat, causing a pleasurable ache to build from low within her belly. He put his other hand on her, and his thumb sought out the bundle of nerves he had teased earlier, wringing a long moan from Emily.

It seemed to her that the Duke was a virtuoso, and she was hisinstrument, her gasps and moans the music he aimed to create. He played her with such skill and deftness and with so much passion that it filled her soul with a blinding light.

More, more, more…

He played her wildly and yet with an unexpected gentleness, building her up for the grand crescendo.

“Your Grace…!” she gasped. “I can’t!”

“Yes, you can.” His voice was low, hypnotic. “Let go, Emily.”

She felt something build up deep within her, something wild and untamed andfree.It seemed as if she was a coil, wound tighter and tighter and tighter…

Until she crashed upon a great wave of pleasure with a soft scream.

“Your Grace!”

But he was not done with her yet—he continued to draw out her pleasure until she came apart again and again and again.

Emily lost count of how many times she had crashed until the Duke finally extricated his finger from within her shuddering form. Gently, he gathered her in his arms, raining soft kisses on her sweat-drenched face.

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