Take me.
As if hearing her silent thoughts, Alexander gathered the fabric at her hip, inching it slowly up her legs. It brushed over the sensitive skin of her legs, whispering to her what was about to happen. She shook, her terror at being revealed making her desire all the headier. She knew what was going to happen, and she wanted it, yet she truly had no idea at all.
The air was cool on her legs as the skirt moved up around her waist, revealing thighs slick with desire that glistened in the moonlight, her sex bare and waiting. The duke pulled back from his kiss and looked at her, stared at her, deep into her eyes. He seemed to be asking permission, and she nodded her head.
Yes. Please.
His palm was rough against the smooth, soft skin of her thigh, his hand roving over her hips and thighs until he found her. He still stared at her, but she could take no more, and she leaned forward to kiss him again, taste him again. This distraction was all she needed, and shifted her feet to part her legs farther.
He pressed his hand against her most intimate part, and Charlotte screwed her eyes shut. He would invade her, violate her, and yet she craved it more than anything. Slowly, he worked her body so that it allowed him access, and with a single finger, he pushed himself inside her. Charlotte’s eyes burst open, and she gasped.
“Are you all right?” he whispered into her hair.
She had no power to reply, all words lost to her. She nodded, letting out another whimper, and the duke responded with gentle, rhythmic movements. She had teased herself often enough, in the darkness of her room, but nothing could prepare her for this.
What felt wonderful on her own was a hundred times more powerful with him, and in only a matter of moments, her hips moved instinctively in time with his hand, riding him as she had ridden so many horses. He chuckled, leaning in to kiss her neck again, and she tilted her head to allow it.
Charlotte’s breath came rapidly, her chest rising and falling in time with the rhythm in her hips, and she moaned into his ear. The tension built, knotting itself tighter and tighter in her stomach until finally, finally…
It snapped. Charlotte threw her head back and let out a groan, suppressed only by her teeth, gritted to prevent herself from crying out. Recognizing her pleasure, the duke’s fingers slowed, then stopped, and pulled her against him to rest. She laid her head against his shoulder, blinking as the shuddering in her legs calmed and she caught her breath.
Alexander ran his hand over her hair, smoothing it gently. “Are you all right?” he whispered.
“I… I think so,” she replied, her voice barely more than a croak.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” she interrupted, pulling herself upright and looking at him, hoping the warmth in her eyes would reassure him. “I wanted you to. Don’t be sorry. It was…”
She couldn’t think of the words to explain what it was, but he nodded his understanding.
“Yes. But we should stop. We can’t let it get out of hand.”
Charlotte swallowed back her disappointment, but he was right. “Of course. Shall we return to the ballroom?”
The duke nodded again. “I’ll find a way for us to get out.”
Charlotte grinned, her energy returned, and she stood up straight and smoothed down her crumpled skirt. “No need,” she said. “I have just the thing.”
He looked at her curiously as she reached up and pulled a pin from her hair. She dashed over to the door, slid it into the lock, and deftly opened it. When she turned back to him, her eyes sparkled with pride and love and excitement. He raised an eyebrow.
“Very impressive,” he muttered, and Charlotte beamed.
He took the pin from her hand and expertly slid it back into her hair, as if he had done it a million times before.
“I shall go out first,” he said. “Give it a minute, and then find your way to the ballroom. We shall see each other another time.”
Charlotte could only nod as he slid out of the door, for now the joy in her heart turned sour.As if he had done it a million times before.It felt like that because hehaddone it many times before. The duke, she realized with dawning dread, had been with many other women. He was experienced. Jealousy stabbed at her, mingling with the fear that he had merely used her.
But then, didn’t I use him for my pleasure to?
With a deep, unhappy sigh, Charlotte returned to the ballroom feeling spent and utterly miserable.
Chapter 20
Lydia stood against the far wall, her back perfectly straight, pensive as she searched yet again for Charlotte. The girl had a mind of her own, which infuriated Lydia beyond measure. Try as she had to shape Charlotte, she had been unable to. That father of hers had given Charlotte far too much spirit for Lydia’s liking, and it was difficult to break now that the man had passed.
She pursed her lips as her eyes wandered over the guests. She had not wanted to come to this blasted ball in the first place. There were far too many distractions, too many handsome gentlemen who might capture the young and wealthy heiress’ eye—and not least the Duke of Ashbourne. He was entirely unsuitable, regardless of what the girl thought, and Lydia would not stand for it. She had better ideas.
