The Courtesan Duchess

by Joanna Shupe

  “Oh, yes,” he moaned, eyes closed and face taut with pleasure. “Ride me, tesorina.”

  Desperate to feel the mind-numbing desire again, Julia lifted herself up and came back down, her hips working to thrust his shaft deep. He guided her movements at first, helping her rock back and forth, and the pleasure began to build as she moved faster. His hands skated along her back to the fastenings of her dress, and he soon loosened the top enough so only her chemise covered her breasts.

  Her large bosom had been a bane her whole life; dressmakers constantly complained about the reworking of patterns to amply cover her. And Julia had always envied the silhouettes of the thin, flat-chested women who looked so elegant and regal in their high-waist dresses. In comparison, she felt heavy and clumsy, constantly trying to keep a shawl around her décolletage for propriety.

  But the way Nick stared at her now, as he slid her lace chemise down to reveal her bare breasts, Julia wouldn’t change a thing about her body. His gaze, so reverent and full of heat, scorched her and her nipples tightened almost painfully. She arched her back as her hips flexed once more over his shaft, which caused ripples of ecstasy to travel the length of her body. His hands cupped her breasts. “You are like a goddess, straight from the depths of my dreams,” he murmured before drawing one nipple into his mouth.

  His lips pulled intently on one tight bud and a burst of sensation raced through her belly to settle in her womb. Her hips moved faster of their own accord, her body reveling in the pleasure caused by both his mouth and his shaft. Nick used his tongue to lave at one nipple then shifted quickly to the other in order to give it the same attention. Julia could feel her muscles tightening, every nerve straining as the pleasure increased. He continued to draw on her nipple with his lips, and she threaded her fingers through his hair to hold his head in place. Each pull of his mouth had her spiraling higher and higher, her hips thrusting harder on his cock, until she thought she would die. It was too wonderful.

  Nick reached down between them and used his thumb to stroke the tiny bundle of nerves atop her sex. Once, twice, and then she exploded, a white-hot charge setting off inside her. “Nick,” she moaned, his name stretched out into one long word as her body convulsed around him. She barely noticed when he grasped her hips and took over, bringing her down on him with a near-violent force. He stiffened, a groan escaping from deep in his chest, as he shuddered and poured himself into her.

  Breathless and sweaty, she dropped her head onto his shoulder. Heavens, that was better than anything Pearl had described. No wonder men did this at every available opportunity.

  “My God,” Nick wheezed. “I hadn’t thought to first take you in a chair.” He pushed her hair back from her face in a gentle caress. “I don’t know what came over me. You must think me a complete cad.”

  She almost smiled. Yes, she knew him to be a complete cad—but not for the reasons he thought. “I believe you were as caught up in what happened between us as I,” she murmured. She needed to get up, to wash herself off and check for blood, but couldn’t make herself move just yet. Nick was still inside her, and Julia wanted to prolong the contact as long as possible.

  His large hands stroked her back, and she relaxed into him. She’d just made love to her husband. The idea seemed so ludicrous, Julia had to swallow a laugh. And it had been magnificent. Truthfully, she couldn’t wait to repeat the performance.

  He shifted, trying to get out from beneath her. “Here, cara. Let me get a cloth and clean you.”

  Julia stiffened. He could do no such thing, since he might discover blood on either of them. “No, no. Please, Your Grace,” she cooed and pushed him back down into the chair. “Close your eyes and relax. Allow me to clean you.” She kissed him lightly in the hopes of securing his acquiescence.

  “You know I hate my title,” he murmured, his lashes falling against his cheeks. “But thank God you do not want me to get up because I’m not sure I have the use of my legs just yet.”

  She kissed him again, unable to help herself, before getting out of the chair and pulling her dress up to cover her breasts. The washstand stood across the room, where she found a cloth and fresh water. Ensuring his eyes remained closed she turned to check the insides of her thighs. Sure enough, a small streak of blood smeared her skin. Quickly, she swiped at it to remove the evidence of her maidenhead off her body. Once that was done, she rinsed the cloth and returned to Nick.

  Sprawled in the chair, still fully clothed except for his semi-flaccid manhood, he was the most handsome thing she’d ever seen. The planes of his face were slack, less guarded. His black hair tousled, he appeared roguish, more like the devil she knew him to be.

  She gently washed him, fascinated by the transformation in his shaft. Pearl had shown her drawings and even insisted Julia hold a wooden phallus. But this was different. No longer as stiff as before, the smooth, pink skin was soft yet surprisingly firm. With every stroke of the cloth, it seemed to twitch under her ministrations, thickening again.

  “If you continue to stare at me in such a fashion, it won’t be long before we find ourselves repeating what just happened in this chair.”

  Standing, she smiled and strolled back to the washstand to place the cloth back in the water. Pearl had said Julia might be sore after her first time. So far, she didn’t feel any ill effects from the encounter. But there was no reason to rush it, Julia thought, and decided to get him talking instead.

  “Come with me to the bed,” she said, holding out her hand.

  Nick tucked his member back in his trousers and closed a few buttons. She watched as he stood and refilled their drinks. He handed her a glass and helped her up onto the massive four-poster bed. She settled as he reached down, gently slid off her slippers, and placed them on the floor.

  “Now I know why Winchester looked so damned besotted each time I saw the two of you together.” He sipped some liqueur and stretched out. “You are a woman capable of stealing a man’s soul.”

  She hid her smile behind her glass, taking a small swallow. “Except it is well-known you have no soul to steal.”

  “Is that what they say?”

  “Among other things. You are still the occasional topic of conversation in London. I’ve heard about you for quite some time.”

  He set his glass on the table and then leaned up on an elbow. “So much has been said about the depraved Duke of Colton over the years. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve heard, and I’ll tell you if it’s true.” Nick traced a long, elegant finger down her collarbone, and she shivered.

  “That you had Lady Sherbourne and her sister in bed at the same time.”

  He smiled, his teeth even and white. “True.”

  “Along with their brother.”

  The smile faded. “Not true.”

  “You kept two mistresses at once, setting them up in houses right next door to one another.”

  “Requiring the memorization of only one address. Quite convenient, in my opinion.” Nick reached out to twirl one of her red curls around his finger.

  “It was rumored you were a regular patron at Theresa Berkley’s brothel, where she practiced her arts of flagellation on you.”

  “Not a regular customer, but I have been inside once or twice, yes. One is curious about such things, you know.”

  He was trying to shock her, but Julia wouldn’t be dissuaded. “Your brother’s wife. Was that true as well?”

  Nick’s beautiful face twisted for the briefest moment before his usual insouciant expression returned. “Oh, my dear. Isn’t that what everyone wants to know? Did the wicked younger brother seduce his older brother’s wife, causing such despair as for the heir to have a fatal accident?”

  He hooked a finger in the sleeve of her loosened gown and tugged, revealing the top of her right breast. The fabric hung precariously, where one deep breath would cause her breast to burst free from her stays and chemise. “That information, tesorina, comes at a price.”

  Chapter Five

  In the begin
ning, they’ll promise you anything.

  —Miss Pearl Kelly to the Duchess of Colton

  “What sort of price did you have in mind?” Juliet asked him.

  As if Nick would ever tell her. Or anyone, for that matter. Fitz and Winchester both suspected the truth, but Nick had never confirmed or denied their suppositions. He smoothed a hand down over the roundness of her hip. “One higher than you could ever pay.”

  She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling, and his chest suddenly tightened. Determined to ignore whatever he was feeling, Nick brought them back to the matter at hand. “In our haste, we never talked about preventing conception. I almost hesitate to ask—”

  “I am unable to conceive,” she said quickly.

  “My apologies,” he replied. Though he never wanted children, Nick knew many women felt the desire for offspring.

  Juliet waved her hand. “It is probably for the best.”

  Nick wasn’t sure what to say, so he gestured to her hair. “May I take it down?”

  She nodded, turning slightly in order for him to reach the pins holding up her glorious mass of red hair. Slowly, as if to torture himself, he removed each one, placing it carefully on the table before locating another. When the last pin came out, he ran his fingers through the silky strands, watching the shimmering fire slide against his skin. He wanted to feel all that smooth heat against his thighs when she took him deep into her mouth. The mere idea had desire building in his belly, his cock stirring to life.

  He wanted her naked. Now. He leaned over to stroke the generous swell of breast exposed by her low neckline. Damn, but her breasts . . . they were enough to make a grown man weep in gratitude. Nick could gaze on them and touch them for hours. “Take off your clothing for me.”

  Confusion sparked her eyes before she lowered her lashes. Her reaction was puzzling. Surely this request had been made of her before. With such a lush body, it would be every man’s fantasy to have her disrobe slowly while he watched. Juliet was a strange combination of bold and innocent—and he found both sides decidedly alluring.

  She wet her lips with the tip of her pink tongue. “You want to watch while I remove my clothing?”

  He allowed all the raging hot desire he was currently feeling to show in his eyes as they raked her body. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.”

  Juliet’s lips parted and a rush of air escaped. He saw the pulse beating fast and strong at the base of her neck, and he smiled. At least he wasn’t the only one affected.

  She sat up and worked to the edge of the bed where she set her glass on the table, clasping the loosened gown in front of her like a shield. Her hair streamed down to the middle of her back, a cascade of red brilliance. He was already hard, his cock bursting inside his trousers, and she hadn’t yet removed a single stitch.

  Juliet turned and kept her eyes averted, almost as if she were shy. God, the ability of such an experienced woman to appear a novice had him in knots. In one smooth motion, she lifted her hands out to her sides and the dress fell to the floor. Nick’s mouth went dry. Christ’s teeth, she was a vision. Standing in a sheer petticoat, flimsy lace chemise, stockings, and short stays, he could see almost her entire form through the transparent fabric. Long, shapely legs, tiny waist, a triangle of light hair atop her thighs, flat stomach . . . and her luscious breasts framed so temptingly. He couldn’t wait to taste her.

  He was suddenly too hot for his own clothes. He raised himself slightly and lifted his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor by her feet.

  Juliet raised an eyebrow, her gaze now skimming his naked chest. “That is more like it.”

  He smirked and lay back on the pillows. “I’ll show you more when you show me more.”

  She bit her lip and worked on the tiny front fastening of the petticoat. Whisper-thin, the garment slipped off her shoulders and fluttered to the ground. “I’ll need help with the laces of my stays,” she said, giving him her back.

  Nick moved forward with a speed he hadn’t known himself capable of. He lifted her curtain of red hair, brought it to his nose, and inhaled deeply. Gardenias, he thought, breathing in the sweet fragrance once more. He knew he’d forever associate the scent with her.

  Placing her hair over her shoulder, he quickly undid the laces and resumed his place at the head of the bed.

  Juliet shimmied out of the stays, dropping the fabric to the floor, and Nick’s whole body tensed in an effort to keep from pouncing on her. She was lovely. The lace cups of the chemise did nothing to hide the dusky areolas or rosy nipples of her breasts, the bounty barely contained by the delicate fabric. The things they did with women’s undergarments these days . . . “Leave it on,” he croaked, his throat gone dry. “Come here.”

  The impudent baggage shook her head, gestured to his trousers. “The trousers, Nicholas.”

  He groaned. Served him right for bedding such an experienced lover. Rapidly unfastening the buttons, he lifted his hips off the bed to strip off the remainder of his clothing. Naked and obviously aroused, he fell back against the bed, folding his arms behind his head.

  Juliet’s eyes darkened as she focused on his cock, now straining against his belly. He spread his thighs a bit and took himself in hand, stroking slowly as she watched. In only a few seconds, he was longer and thicker. His skin sensitive, the nerves responded to the slightest touch as he pumped into his fist.

  Muscles tightening, Nick struggled to maintain a leisurely pace with his hand. He could come so easily, bring himself to completion while merely gazing on her beautiful body. “Climb up here, Juliet. I am dying to taste you, for you to taste me.”

  She leisurely crawled onto the bed, the chemise riding up to reveal her creamy thighs, and he had to stop frigging himself. If he didn’t, he would explode. Juliet trailed her hands up his legs as she moved closer, drawing her fingertips over his calves, past his knees. She settled between his thighs, and Nick tensed in anticipation.

  “I am dying to taste you as well, Your Grace.” Silken red hair fanned over his lower half as her head dipped toward his cock.

  He wanted to tell her again how much he hated his title, but all he could do was groan because she’d touched her tongue to the head of his shaft. She gave him a tentative lick that had every muscle in his body clenching to remain still. He fought the urge to surge up, to force her to take him hot and deep until he shot down her throat. His patience was rewarded when, with a firm hand on the base, she slid her mouth over the knob of his shaft, sucking him so perfectly Nick thought he might pass out.

  “Oh, Jesus. Yes, tesorina. Suck me.” He twisted his hands in the soft strands of hair that formed a fiery curtain around her face. “Take me inside your mouth.”

  She began to move then, earnestly and with enthusiasm. Nick couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and could only stare at her. Her lips, so rosy and plump, tightened around him, with her luscious breasts nearly spilling out of her chemise every time she lifted up and down over his cock. Over and over . . . the perfect rhythm. Watching her work him so adeptly, the pleasure built in his spine, tightening his bollocks, and he knew it wouldn’t be long.

  Then she shifted to gently rake her nails over his sac, and Nick was lost. He could feel the orgasm erupting from the bottom of his soul. His shout echoed off the walls as he spent deep in her mouth, his body shuddering with the force of the release. It seemed to go on and on, with her swallowing everything he gave her, until he lay back, completely drained.

  She released him and moved up to stretch out beside him. “My God,” he wheezed, trying to get his bearings. “I may never be the same again.” If he were less of a man, he’d give in to the overpowering desire to roll over and go to sleep. But he desperately wanted to return the gesture, to taste her orgasm on his tongue.

  He turned and cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him. Her startling blue eyes were bright with arousal. He kissed her then, gentle but demanding, tasting his saltiness in her mouth. She clutched his shoulders and kissed
him back fervently, her tongue now every bit as aggressive as his own. A savage satisfaction tore through him knowing that pleasuring him had heightened her desire.

  Nick sat up. Juliet was on her back, her silken hair fanned out over the pillow like flames behind her head. With two hands, he clasped the edges of her thin chemise and ripped them apart, the flimsy fabric tearing easily in his hands. She gasped.

  “I will buy you ten more of those,” he promised and pushed the torn pieces aside. He slid her stockings and garters down, one by one, revealing the soft, creamy skin of her legs.

  And then she was naked. God in heaven, she was perfect. He’d never felt possessive over a woman, but the thought of another man enjoying her as he had—as he would—filled him with what could only be jealousy. He leaned down to take a nipple, taut with arousal, deep into his mouth. She thrust her fingers into his hair to hold him in place—not that he needed her to. He cupped her other breast and slightly pinched the other peak. She rewarded him with a long, guttural moan.

  Had her other lovers been rough? Gentle? Right now, Nick would be whatever she wanted. He needed to bring Juliet more pleasure than any man she’d ever been with.

  His hand glided down the soft skin of her body, over her flat stomach, to her patch of intimate curls. He loved that first slide of his fingers into a woman’s sex, where you could feel her arousal pooling at the entrance. And, oh . . . Juliet was wet. Wet and hot. He coated two of his fingers in her slickness and moved up slightly to circle the small nub at her apex. It was still swollen from their earlier lovemaking, begging for his touch.

  “Oh, Nick. Yes,” she breathed. Juliet gripped the coverlet and opened her legs wider.

  He loved a woman who knew what she wanted.