All About the Duke (The Dukes' Club Book 4) (11 page)

“Don’t you dare back out on me, Nicholas. This is what I want. I want it more than anything I’ve ever wanted. Please don’t disappoint me.”

The determination in her voice caused his breath to hitch. For a brief moment, he considered whether it was simply male posturing which told him that if he stopped now he’d be disrespecting her, but as he gazed down into her earnest eyes, he knew that’s what it would be. If he stopped after that demand, he would be stopping because he believed that, as a male, he knew what was best for her. It would be the ultimate act of arrogance and exactly everything she found disappointing about men in general.

So, in answer, he lowered his head to her breast and teased the delicate skin with his lips.

She gasped as he gently took her nipple into his mouth, swirling it with his tongue. As he kissed, he slid his hand down her hip, to the juncture of her thigh, slowly massaging her body.

A moan slipped from her throat as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. He smiled against her breast. This was perfect. Wasn’t it? This had to be what perfect was. A strong woman who knew her mind in his bed.

He kissed downward, skimming her ribs and belly then he gently tugged free of her grasp. He slid down the bed and nudged her thighs apart.

One glance at her flushed face told him that she was avidly watching his movements. No closed eyes or embarrassment. Oh, no. Sheer anticipation seemed to give her skin an impossible glow.

“I feel as if you’re about do something significant,” she said, her voice breathy.

“Do you, indeed?” he asked, trying for levity but finding he simply chose few words because his brain was still not doing as he was used to.

“Are my instincts correct?”

A slow smile turned his lips. “Alfred, I think your instincts are likely superb.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Shall I tell you or just show you?”

She nibbled her lip in earnest thought. “Show, please.”

Without another word, he positioned himself low, between her thighs. He was grateful she’d not requested narration. He was sure he’d be incapable of it at present.

God she was beautiful. He stared down at her slick folds and couldn’t wait to taste her. She was glorious. She was unexpected. And he could love her for it.

***

A
llegra wrapped her hands around the bed linen and gripped. As determined as she was, she couldn’t fight all her nerves. After all, this was her first time. And she didn’t think it was going to be at all typical. She was allowed to be a little nervous.

But she was also burning with need. Need to know what all this pleasure business was. Because as marvelous as his kisses were upon her body, she knew that wasn’t the climax of the pleasure. It was more like a slow burn or the first tendrils of heat when one lights a fire. The true flame had to come later.

As she stared between her thighs, it took a good deal of restraint not to snap her legs shut. No one had seen her there. In fact, only curiosity and a mirror had meant that
she
had seen herself. It should have been most alarming. It wasn’t. It felt right, letting him see her so vulnerable.

Somehow she knew he wouldn’t betray that vulnerability. Oh, no. He’d reward it.

Proving her point, he bent his head until she could see naught but his dark hair teasing her thighs. She waited, breath caught in her throat for what he was about to do.

The first touch of his tongue caused her to yelp. Her entire body tensed and he grabbed her thighs, wrapping his hands about them, holding her still.

It was ridiculously exciting and shocking. He traced her softly. So softly that she found herself lifting her hips of the bed.

“Y-You’re kissing me there?” she gasped.

A deep, pleased rumble of a laugh was her only answer.

Then he was indeed kissing and licking and before she knew what was occurring he seemed to find some particular spot on her body that she’d had no knowledge of before.

A cry of need wrenched from her lips. It was so wild and stunned her so deeply that she stuffed her fist into her mouth, biting down.

Free she might wish to be, but she didn’t want anyone in the castle hearing her either.

He didn’t seem to notice. If anything, he seemed to increase his efforts, varying the pressure and speed but never relenting from that maddening place.

Her breath came in short rises and falls. She wanted to stare at him and just as she was about to yield to the desire to let her gaze drift to the ceiling, he lifted his gaze to meet hers.

The whole world seemed to explode around her. In all her life she’d never felt anything more powerful than his eyes locked with hers and his mouth upon her body.

She cried out against her hand and suddenly, she couldn’t think or breathe or do anything except hold his gaze. She had to or else the pleasure pulsing through her again and again would send her into a thousand pieces.

Still, he didn’t stop. He teased and stroked until the very last wave of her pleasure had ebbed.

Gently, he kissed the inside of her thigh, then crawled up her body.

Wordless, he stared down at her and stroked her cheek.

The beat of her heart slammed against her ears. This was intimacy. My God, in all her life she’d never known such closeness to a person. He’d taken her somewhere she hadn’t even known existed and she had neither brain, nor breath, to thank him.

“We can stop,” he said gently. “We don’t have to go further.”

His voice was deep and strained.

His offer, she realized was noble, but she lifted her hand to his and turned her face into his palm. Kissing that hand ever so lightly she then whispered, “I don’t want this to ever stop.”

And she didn't because this was possibly the most beautiful and awakening moment of her life.

Nicholas kissed her. He kissed her deeply, passionately, and she wrapped her arms around him as if she could hold on and never let go.

Somehow it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

Sensing her need, he took one of her hands and guided it down between their bodies.

His breeches were undone and she touched hot, hard male.

She didn’t even know what to call it. She knew what it was and what it was for. But before she had sense to think, he was positioning himself at her entry. Her fingers touched right where they were almost joined.

He seemed to hesitate and she realized he was waiting for her to fully give him permission. She’d given him words. Now, it was time for action.

She moved her hand away and hooked a leg over his hip, urging him closer.

Nicholas groaned and rubbed the tip of his shaft up and down along her wet heat. It was delicious and maddening at once.

He thrust forward and her eyes widened.

It was the strangest feeling she’d ever known. Pressure. There was far too much pressure.

He paused.

She shook her head and lifted her other leg, now hooking them about his back, determined that he should continue.

Rocking against her, Nicholas eased deeper.

It hurt. Her entire body felt stretched but then in one deep penetration he pushed through. Her body released its tension and what had begun to feel like pain began to feel like pleasure as he thrust in and out of her body in a slow rhythm.

He cupped her face with his hands and rocked forward.

That wild feeling she’d just known began to build again and once again, she found her gaze locked with his. She’d never seen such intensity on a face as she saw on his now.

She bit down on her lower lip, shocked by how different this was than her pleasure before, how much better this was. They were joined and it was beyond imagining.

As his movements deepened and her body began to move in harmony with his, he placed a hand between their bodies and stroked her in that spot he’d found before.

Again, her world shatter as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. With one final deep thrust, Nicholas let out a wild groan.

Slowly, they both stilled.

Her body felt liquid and perfect.

She held him against her chest and, for once, she felt as if it was she who was taking care of him. It was a bizarre and wonderful feeling.

In all her life, she’d never imagined taking care of a big, powerful man like Nicholas. She’d never imagined a man such as that would allow it, let alone wish it. Yet here they were, her arms around him, his face pressed gently against her chest, now that he’d collapsed down on top of her and the bed. She smiled. If she’d been at all afraid of the unknown that taking Nicholas to lover would bring, she wasn’t now. Whatever was to arise would be marvelous. Absolutely marvelous.

H
olding his breath, he slid his arm out from under his Alfred’s neck. As soon as he was free, he stared at the stone wall of his turret room and felt the terrifying echo of his own thoughts boom in his head.
His Alfred.

When the hell had that happened?
Why
the hell had it happened?

The stone wall blurred as the terror set in. His. Alfred. And he meant it. Something deep inside him was absolutely bound and determined that she belonged to him. It might have something to do with their night together, but he’d never before felt such an incredible emotion after a night with a woman. Usually, he was pleased to kiss his lover and sally forth into the world. Pleased, of course, but mostly unchanged.

This dawn he felt as if he were Magellan, discovering new worlds entirely.

In fact, whatever the hell had seized his wits was also demanding that he get out of bed, wrap Alfred in swaths of linen and demand to know what the Devil had possessed her to trust someone like him?

He’d damn well manipulated her into being his servant and into staying in his chamber. No matter what she might say, he’d seduced her in the beginning. He’d arranged this whole thing and why? Because he’d needed some amusement? Because she’d intrigued him?

What kind of man did that?

A blackguard. That’s what kind.

If he could have, he’d have called himself out on the spot for being a despoiler of innocents and selfish beyond compare.

Fighting a groan, he quietly swung his legs over the side of the bed. He needed advice and there was only one place that he was going to be able to get it.

He also wanted to ensure Alfred had a good breakfast. Someone had to take care of his young woman. Clearly, no one else was. He wanted to throttle whoever previously had her in their responsibility. Whoever they were, they’d utterly failed in protecting her.

He glanced at her sleeping form. Her entire body seemed to emanate relaxed contentment and no sign that she would awaken any time soon. Still, he didn’t want to be gone overly long. If he could, he would be back before she’d had a chance to awaken.

Making as little noise as possible, he slipped his clothes on and headed down toward the kitchen.

It had been bloody difficult when he was five, cut off from anyone who would tell him what was what. Not many people had the guts to tell him the truth, not even the other dukes in the Dukes Club. They all ribbed each other, raised hell, and pontificated on the ills of society but they were all careful not to point out their fellow peer’s shortcomings. Stones and glass houses and all that.

So, there was really only one person for it.

As he strode down the long hallway, he had a sinking feeling Mrs. T was going to be most disappointed in him.

Thank God the poor woman wasn’t Catholic. If she had been, she never would have gotten up from her knees with all the praying for his soul she would have had to do.

He headed for the panel at the end of the hall, pressed a leaf in the carved woodwork, and the hidden door swung open revealing a spiral stair. He took the servant’s steps quickly, used to the steep, winding descent. 

At last, he came out just behind the kitchen and strode into the long hall, clamoring with the bangs of pots and pans and kitchen staff going about the daily business of making food for dozens of people.

Mrs. Thackery stood whisking something briskly in a large bowl. Her silver hair was tucked neatly under her perfectly starched white cap. She was speaking to a young undercook, no doubt, instructing her in the importance of a firm wrist.

Once, as a boy, he’d come to the kitchens as often as possible and Mrs. T had taught him several things. He was no foolish male that couldn’t boil a pot of water. Not only could he boil water, he could make a perfectly light and flaky pastry. This was something that no one besides Mrs. T and his kitchen staff knew. God only could imagine what the dukes would have thought of his culinary skills.

“Mrs. Thackery,” he called, half feeling a boy again, afraid to tell her he’d been sent down from Eton.

She immediately snapped her gaze away from the young woman and a warm smile tilted her wrinkled face. “Your Grace!” she exclaimed with pleasure. “You’re up quite early this morning. Off for a ride?”

“No, Mrs. Thackery. I need a moment of your time.”

Her silvery brows drew together in momentary distress as she eyed the mixture in her bowl. The timing of cooking was exact but then she gave a nod and handed her accoutrement to her helper.

She wiped her hands on her apron. “Tea?”

Tea. Tea solved everything, so claimed Mrs. Thackery. On the day his parents had died, she’d had a look of a kindly dragon as she’d dispensed tea into a cup for him. It had been the first time he’d ever had the beverage and she’d said gravely that such an occasion warranted him drinking such an adult drink because tea healed the soul in a way milk simply could not do.

Ever since, he’d loved the brewed leaf. But he had a feeling tea wasn’t going to soften Mrs. Thackery’s disapproval or make him feel at ease with his present circumstances. “No. Just a chat.”

“My office then.” She marched off toward the hall, her skirts whipping behind her. 

He followed. Unsure as only she could make him. But he cherished that feeling. She was the only person he could be entirely honest with.

As soon as they were safely ensconced in her small, but cozy office, she shut the door firmly behind them.