Duke I’d Like to F…

by Sierra Simone

  He nearly turned around to return to the study. Yet he could simply poke his head into the schoolroom, talk briefly with Miss Holme, offer his apologies, and then go back to the tasks that required his attention.

  The door to the schoolroom stood open, revealing a small but sunlit chamber that contained two desks for students, and a larger desk for the instructor. Miss Holme sat at it now, the sunshine turning her light brown hair into a soft wheaten color that gleamed. She wrote in a notebook as she studied a volume, her pen scratching pleasantly as it moved across the pages.

  For the briefest moment, he permitted himself the pleasure of watching her, unobserved. She had a habit of rubbing her bottom lip when she contemplated something—the gesture had fascinated him as a boy and enthralled him as a man. He could study her face forever, following the angular lines of her cheekbones, learning the shaped of her eyebrows lowered in thought, skimming his gaze across her wide mouth. His gaze went lower. Her figure was abundant—now he knew what her breasts felt like, as well as the generous span of her hips.

  He squeezed his eyes shut as he took several steadying breaths. At this rate, he’d come barreling into the schoolroom with a raging erection, and that went against his purpose for being here.

  Despite his attempts to calm himself, he must have made some small noise, because she looked up from her book and spotted him hovering in the doorway.

  The pleasure on her face made his own heart spin like a top. But she seemed to catch herself and schooled her expression into something far more reserved. He wasn’t certain how to interpret this change, so he made his own countenance friendly but not excessively intimate.

  “Your Grace,” she said, rising.

  “I’m not used to it.” He moved farther into the room, glad his cockstand had subsided. “Hearing you call me Your Grace.”

  “Everyone else does,” she noted.

  “It sounds different on your lips.”

  Their gazes held at the word lips.

  Uncertain, he moved toward the bookshelves and ran his finger across the spines. “I don’t recognize all these titles. They’re different from the ones my tutor had me read.” He pulled out one of the books and regarded its cover. “A Guide to Mathematics For Inquisitive Girls.”

  She pushed her chair back. He felt her presence draw nearer and nearer until she stood beside him. Other than yesterday, it was the closest they had ever been to each other, and he could smell soap and camellia flowers warmed by her skin. It was remarkable that his hand didn’t shake as he held the book up for her inspection.

  “That one is a particular favorite of Maria’s,” she murmured. “She will make some important discoveries in that field one day.”

  “There’s a difference between how girls and boys should be educated about mathematics?”

  “For this particular text, no. I took pains to find the books that did not condescend to its readers. But some other treatises have no such scruples. They discuss things such as mathematics within a domestic framework.”

  “The look on your face shows precisely what you think of such pedagogical approaches,” he said wryly.

  She smiled at him, and it shot through him, gleaming like metallic veins through stone. “I’ve been employed as a governess long enough to know what particular methodologies I prefer, and which yield the best results. Particularly in my female students.”

  He could only nod, too unsteady from having her so near. His attention was fixed on the delicate bend where her neck met her shoulder—at present modestly covered by a woolen shawl, yet the fabric gently draped in such a way that he could readily imagine the sweet, sensuous curve. His fingers twitched with the desire to pull back the soft cloth and press his mouth to the revealed skin.

  He needed to speak to her, but words slipped from his mind, and he was caught in the current of his old hunger for her—now sharper than ever after his first taste.

  Awareness of his own status caged him, as it had since his father had given him the farthing. Every day for the past ten years, the coin sat in his inside coat pocket, reminding him that he had to recognize and honor his responsibilities.

  He hated the thought of hurting anyone—especially Miss Holme.

  “It’s fortunate that you’ve come to the schoolroom,” she said.

  He snapped back into the present moment. “How so?”

  “We’ve something to discuss, you and I.” Her tone betrayed nothing, but that didn’t stop his heart from pounding, or his palms from growing damp.

  After clearing his throat, he said, “We do.” He dragged in a breath, preparing to humble himself before her, but she spoke before he could.

  “The girls’ schooling,” she said crisply. “As head of the household, it’s now on you to make decisions regarding your sisters’ education. Her Grace deferred to your father, so the responsibility falls to you.”

  He exhaled, relieved it didn’t sound too serrated. “Whatever it is you have been doing—mathematics for inquisitive girls—you can continue on as you have. I trust you.”

  She laughed, a short, ironic sound. “Surprising that you’d trust me, given what I did at the pond yesterday.”

  He could immediately taste her, feel her, and this time when he let out a breath, it came out rough and serrated. Still, he could not ignore what she said, or what that meant.

  “It is not an equal distribution of fault,” he insisted. “So long as you are in my employ, the culpability is completely mine.”

  “Dukes are never culpable,” she murmured drily.

  “This one is,” he said. “And you should know that your position as governess to my sisters is secure. I’ve given my mother complete control over your employment. I told her I would be too preoccupied with my new duties to be at all useful in the direction of their education. She was initially reluctant, but ultimately, she agreed to accept the responsibility. Anything I say to her regarding you or your work has no bearing on the security of your position.”

  Miss Holme inhaled sharply, and her eyes went wide in surprise. “I’d no idea.”

  “She and I conversed yesterday evening. I came up to the schoolroom today to tell you. And to apologize.”

  He steadied himself. “I didn’t want you to think that your employment was at risk because of yesterday. You’re safe. You will always be safe here.” The farthing seemed to burn in his pocket as he spoke.

  “Governesses surely lead precarious lives,” he continued lowly, “as women who earn their livelihoods far from home, vulnerable to employers and…” He swallowed. “Predatory men. But I will not be one of those men.”

  He held his breath as she regarded him. She was in so many ways an enigma—one that continued to fascinate him, but he would hold true to his resolve not to hurt her.

  Her chest rose and fell, and she seemed to wrestle with something. Finally, when he was on the verge of bolting, she asked, “Do you realize what you’ve done by taking me out of your employ?”

  “Protected you,” he answered. “That was my intention. Was that not the result?”

  “The result,” she said, taking a step toward him, “is that you’ve opened the door for more.”

  Hope surged like a high tide. “More. Between us.”

  She inclined her head, regal.

  But he needed to hear the words. “Is that what you desire?”

  “Desire is a wayward thing. It never obeys, the obstinate creature, and no matter how I command it, desire has a strong will of its own.” A corner of her mouth lifted. “For so many reasons, I shouldn’t want you. Yet I do, God help me. The idea of giving you an education in pleasure is…exquisite.” Her words were breathless, her cheeks were flushed.

  “An education…” He flexed his hands. “Then I will be your student.” Just as he’d been yesterday in the woods. This time there would be no interruptions, no distractions. No imbalance. Only her, instructing him and giving knowledge.

  She walked to the entrance to the schoolroom, shut the door, and tu
rned the key in the lock.

  The sound shot straight to his cock.

  Her finger trembling, she pointed to one of the student desks. “Sit there for your first lesson.”

  He rushed to sit quickly. It was a relief to take a seat because he was certain either his legs would give out or they’d turn into Roman candles and shoot him into the air.

  “Do I take notes?” he asked. Excitement throbbed as loud as his heartbeat in his ears. He had not believed he could ever touch her again. Yet he would, and at her urging—freed from the constraints of should and should not.

  Her chuckle was low as she moved to drape her shawl on a nearby chair, then stood in front of the desk. “This must all be committed to memory.”

  “I’m a most attentive student.”

  “To begin with, sex is more than simply sticking your cock into someone.” She lifted a brow. “But you’ve read one of my books—this shouldn’t come as a revelation.”

  “Not quite a surprise,” he admitted, aroused beyond belief that they should be here, in this room where he’d once had his boyhood lessons. Now he would receive a man’s lessons.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “You said you’ve gone to bed with two women.”

  He was riveted by the sight of her full breasts swelling against the neckline of her gown.

  “At Oxford, there are…courtesans who frequent the students’ rooms.” He knew nothing of flirtation or seduction.

  “How involved were you?” she asked. “Did you do anything else besides put your cock in them?”

  His face heated. “It was rather fast…”

  “So you didn’t touch their quims? Or even look at what lay between their legs?”

  His arousal battled with embarrassment, a mystifying combination. “As I said, it was done quickly and with a minimum of…of anything additional.”

  He tried to read her expression to see if she was in some way disappointed in him for his utter lack of finesse. Yet if anything, she looked slightly pleased.

  She moved to stand beside the desk, then bent and kissed him. He responded at once, relearning the taste of her, cupping his hands around her jaw. Remembering that she enjoyed it when he’d stroked his tongue against hers, he did it again. She moaned into his mouth, making his body clench in need and pleasure. Her fingers wove into his hair.

  The kiss built, grew deeper. Something huge and hungry grew within him, demanding more, and his grip on her tightened—before he made himself loosen his hold. He couldn’t give into that internal creature, the one that craved dominion. This was her lesson to lead.

  She broke the kiss and straightened before settling her arse on the wooden top. To his astonishment, she swung around to sit facing him, her legs bracketing him.

  “Next part of the lesson,” she said, voice throaty.

  He could not look away as she took handfuls of her skirts and began to raise them, uncovering her calves, knees, and thighs. Finally, her skirts bunched around her waist.

  Miss Holme’s quim was right in front of him, a triangle of darker brown hair curling above the most gorgeous pink slit. Already, a light sheen of moisture glossed her lips, and his nostrils flared as he caught the scent of her desire.

  Of its own volition, his hand reached for her.

  She swatted it away, smiling as she did so. “Not yet. You need to learn the geography before you go exploring.”

  “Show me.” His cock was as hard as it had ever been, so upright it pained him, but he leaned into the ache as the sensation merged into something altogether new and wonderful.

  She brought her hand up to stroke between the outer lips and made a soft gasp. He reveled in the fact that she was as aroused as he was.

  “Touching this part is nice,” she said, “but what’s within is even better.”

  Her fingers dipped down to spread herself, revealing luscious, slick flesh, including the raised bud. His mouth watered to see this part of her, so beautiful, and so real.

  “Sometimes,” she murmured, “I like to be touched here with rough authority, but especially at the beginning, I need gentleness. I like the lips stroked, yet I’m even more sensitive at my opening, and on my clitoris. Watch me.”

  He nodded mutely. He couldn’t have looked away if the house burned down around him.

  She caressed and rubbed herself, her breath coming faster and faster, especially when her fingertips circled her bud. He kept thinking he couldn’t be more aroused, but watching her touch herself turned his need into a raging fever burning through him. He studied her movements, carving them into his heart so that if—when—the time came for him to touch her, he could do it exactly the way she wanted.

  “Now you,” she gasped, taking her hand away.

  His hand shook as he brought it up to her quim. The first brush of his fingers against her damp, tender flesh made him growl, and her moan.

  “Christ,” he said through gritted teeth. He clamped down on his own need to free his cock and pump himself to a fast, hard climax.

  He touched her, stroking, caressing, paying careful attention to her clitoris and her opening, just as she’d instructed. Whatever he did clearly pleased her, because her eyes closed, her head fell back, and the points of her nipples stood out in relief beneath the fabric of her bodice.

  “God, Owen.” She canted her hips, giving him even more access to her. “Just like that. But I want more. I want you to fuck me with your fingers.”

  “Yes.” He’d read about it, and if he couldn’t have his cock in her right now, he could give her that.

  “Slide your finger into me, following the curve of my body.”

  He did so, and was immediately surrounded by her slick, hot passage. Nothing in the world felt as silken. He added a second finger, and she cried out—but when he moved to pull away, afraid that he’d hurt her, she stayed his hand.

  “It’s good,” she gasped. “It’s good. There’s a place inside me, a swollen spot. Can you feel it?”

  “This,” he said, gliding his fingers over it. In response, her breathing came even faster, quick and shallow. Emboldened, he stroked his finger in and out of her, and she pumped her hips against him.

  “Put your mouth on me,” she urged.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. Ever since he’d read about the act, he’d wanted to do it, and now he could—and with her.

  Owen lowered his head and, after inhaling her fragrance, slid his tongue along her folds. She was slick and delicate, and her musky, rich taste filled him, making him dizzy with pleasure.

  “Yes, yes,” she panted. “Suck my clitoris between your lips.”

  He did as she instructed, loving the feel of her sensitive, swollen flesh against his mouth. All the while, he continued to fuck her with his fingers.

  “How do I taste?” she gasped.

  “Spiced and sweet.” His words were torn from somewhere deep within him. “Delicious.”

  His words seemed to drive her over the edge, and her body bowed up. She clamped her hand over her mouth, muting her cry of release.

  That should have satisfied him, but the thing within him burned for more.

  Was this what she wanted? Was this what he wanted, to give free rein to the ravenous beast? Would he lose himself if he did set it free?

  “Keep going,” she urged. “No hesitation. Give in to what you want. Do what you want to me.”

  Untethered, he went on plunging his fingers into her. Impulse guided him to use the tip of his tongue to flick her clitoris until she went taut with another orgasm, and another. Watching her face as it twisted in ecstasy was the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed.

  She rested a limp hand on his head, but had enough strength to lightly urge him back. He stopped at once, resting his own shaking hands on her trembling thighs.

  “You’ve a…natural…talent,” she murmured. Her eyelids were heavy, her expression one of profound satisfaction.

  “Is it wrong to feel pride?” he whispered. “Pride in knowing that I have been
the one to help you feel good?”

  She lifted a brow. “The kind of pride that makes a man go boasting to his friends?”

  “God, no.” The idea appalled him. “This is for us alone.”

  Her smile was like honey warmed by the sun. “A bit of conceit is good for everyone. And you’ve earned it.”

  Miss Holme’s praise made his chest swell with gratification. He stroked his hands along the silk of her legs.

  “I want to kiss you again,” he said.

  She leaned down and put her mouth on his. He would have thought the taste of her still on his lips might have repelled her, but no, she drank from him deeply. Reaching up, he cradled the side of her jaw with his palm, running his thumb back and forth over the down along her cheek.

  “Our lesson isn’t done,” she murmured against his mouth. “You’ve been such a very good student. I think you’ve earned a special privilege.”

  He had no idea what sort of privilege she meant, but the throaty note in her voice made his throbbing cock jerk in response.

  “Tell me what I need to do.”

  “Lean against the front of my desk,” she said in a low but firm command.

  He was on his feet in an instant, though moving around while sporting a furious erection made him slightly less agile. As he took his place, planting his arse on the edge of the desk, he smiled to see how unsteadily she got to her feet, and how her hands continued to tremble as she smoothed her skirts.

  She went to a wooden chest and opened it. He knew that chest, since it contained several hornbooks and an out-of-date globe which had been used to teach his father geography. The world had changed quite a bit since then—God knew that the world had completely altered for Owen within the last thirty minutes.

  From the chest, she removed a plaid wool blanket, which she folded into a neat square.

  “What’s that for?” he asked while she set the blanket on the floor by his feet.

  Her lips quirked. “You’re a clever man. I’m sure you can hazard a guess.” Her gaze flicked to the tented front of his breeches.

  Shock and desire tore through him like a seismic event. He growled, “Yes.”