Page 37 of The Duke’s Rejected Mate

She looks up at me, eyes pitch black, as she nods. I make quick work of my breeches, shucking them down to release my cock. Without another word or demand, she’s there, her mouth covering me, her tongue teasing me, and her breath driving me to distraction.

I thread my fingers through her damp hair and hold her close, choking her with my cock. Zounds but the noises she makes as she sucks me, devouring me as if I were the most special treat she could ever consume.

“You love tasting me, don’t you?”

She pulls back and blinks up at me. “It is you. I would take anything you would give me. But to hold you so intimately in my mouth. That is a closeness I will always treasure.”

Groaning, I close my eyes and just revel in the feel of her tasting me. “Touch yourself,” I rasp out. “Pleasure yourself as you pleasure me.”

Even with her hands bound, she slides them between her thighs and moves them across her clit with the same fervor as sucking me. Her lips cast a spell on me, transfixing me, gluing me to the spot.

Heavens above, but I will never tire of the way she sighs and whimpers around me, doing her best to please. “Such a good obsession,” I rasp out. “Such a good, good girl for me. I am going to empty myself into you. You’re going to take every fucking drop.”

At that, her body spasms again, spurred on by my filthy words. My knot swells and I lift my hand from her head to wrap my fingers around it, clenching it, gripping it ever so tightly as cum spurts from my tip and into her mouth.

She laps me up, swallowing every bit down with frantic moans and needy whimpers. Her fingers slide over my balls, touching them, fondling them as she sucks even harder, drinking me dry. I’m helpless to her touch as I pour out every bit into her.

When she lets go, I sink to my knees in front of her. Neither of us says a word as I hold her, allowing her to sob into me. I’m helpless to her pain. This is one not directly caused by me, but indirectly my fault.

Eventually, she cries herself to sleep, and I put her to bed, purring as she lies there so I can take at least a little bit of this burden away from her. With gentle tugs, I remove the rope and slide the blanket back over her. Once I know she’s fast asleep, I redress and gather my things, leaving no trace that I was ever there.

The air is crisp and cold as I slip out from Mother’s house and make my way to my own. By now, all servants should be in their beds, and I refuse to wake them because I’m a lecher who cannot keep his hands off another man’s betrothed.

Just like with my mother’s town house, I slip into mine unannounced. No one knows I’m here. No one knows I left. Plausible deniability. Just how I want it.

Instead of going to my own bedchambers to sleep it off, I slink down the hall to my study. Perhaps some fresh correspondence can rip this mask, this facade off of Henhaven so I can expose the truth.

No such luck.

With a groan, I set my tawse onto the desk and lean back to rub at my eyes. I let myself have a moment of weakness now that I’m not around Cynthia. The world feels so very heavy, and I, Sisyphus, must continue to push forward, only to find myself back here.

“You can come out,” I growl as my brother’s scent tickles my nose.

“Out of all of London, you’re the only one who knows I’m here when I do not wish to be found,” he chuckles. “I suppose I cannot keep anything from you.”

Cracking an eye open, I look at him as my energy drains from me. I’m too tired to fight, too exhausted to go into this with him.

“Where were you?” he asks. Though his tone is neutral, I hear the threat behind it.

“If you are as clever as you lead everyone to believe, then you would know I was out.”

“It doesn’t take a man of science, faith, or learning to know you were not here in your house, arse. Where were you?”

“Blowing off some steam.”

“With her?”

This time, I sit up fully and grab the tawse before he can scent Cynthia on it. “You will have to be a bit more specific, brother. I haven’t a wife that I keep to, and the Rose and Thorne has several birds with wings to clip.”

“She’s engaged.”

“Pray tell, who?”

“You know who.”

“There are several out this Season. It could be any one of the omegas out on the market. But then, I don’t busy myself with idle gossip. So you’ll have to forgive me when I act the fool since I do not know who you refer to.”

“The Ton is watching you,” he growls. “They measure every step. They speak behind their fans and in the smoking rooms. Hell, there’s even a wager down at White’s.”