The Duke's Guide to Correct Behavior

by Megan Frampton

  “Good,” she said, her fingers going to the buttons on his shirt. She slid out each button until they were all undone, then yanked at the hem of his shirt and drew it up over his head. That meant he had to take his hands off her body, but as soon as he was stripped to the waist he returned them, caressing the curve of her breast, running his hands down the indent of her waist to her hips.

  Glimpsing the dark triangle of her sex under the white cotton. His mouth grew dry.

  “Shall we move to your bed?” she asked, an amused curve on her lips. Apparently he’d been gawking. Not unexpected. It wasn’t very often the object of one’s obsession walked into one’s bedroom wearing only a nightshirt. In fact, he’d have to say that had never happened. Especially not to him.

  Marcus nodded again—still couldn’t speak—and she took his hand and walked forward to the bed.

  She sat on it, her legs dangling down to the floor, and he went to join her, but she pressed her hand flat against his belly, stopping him.

  “First I should finish what I started,” she said, licking her lips as she put her hand to the placket of his trousers. His erection tented his pants, and her hand brushed against him, making him flinch.

  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice.

  He shook his head. “No, it feels good,” he managed to rasp out. So he had not been rendered permanently mute, it seemed.

  “Good,” she said, then began to unbutton his trousers. One button, two, then three, and they were loose enough for her to pull them down his legs, and he stepped out of them, wearing only his smallclothes.

  She ran her hand against him again, and he shuddered, feeling the touch throughout his entire body. Then she grasped the fabric of his smallclothes on his hips and shoved them down, freeing his erection and leaving him entirely naked.

  “Oh my,” she said, her gaze on his cock. Which appreciated the attention, he had to admit, but it would have preferred her touch again.

  Thank goodness she seemed to want to touch him, too, since she stretched her fingers out and clasped him in her hand. He nearly came from that alone, but reminded himself he had more than two minutes—they had all night, they had the rest of their lives—and it wouldn’t do to waste all this pent-up sexual energy by coming to orgasm now.

  She withdrew her hand before his cock could argue his reasoning, and she lay back against the pillows—against the pillow he preferred, and he swallowed against the lump of emotion in his throat.

  “You haven’t returned my nightshirt yet,” he said, running his hand on her leg as he got onto the bed.

  She grinned, then sat up again and drew the nightshirt over her head, tossing it to the floor to join his clothing.

  Oh, yes. Her breasts were beautiful. Just the right size for his hand to cup—he knew, he’d checked—and her nipples were rosy pink against the pale whiteness of her skin.

  But it couldn’t hurt to check again, could it? He leaned forward and slid his hand around the globe of her breast, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin. And then pushed her gently back so she was lying down again and he lay down next to her, on his side, his hand returning to its exploration of her body.

  She rolled onto her side as well, so she was facing him, her hand on his hip, her fingers stroking his skin. He wanted her hands everywhere on his body, wanted to have her pet him, touch him, claim him.

  He moved his hand to her hip now, running his palm on her curves, back on her arse, loving how round and lush she felt. Then he leaned forward to capture her mouth again, kissing her with an intensity that portended what they were about to do.

  And this time, when she pressed against him, there was nothing between them, nothing but their skin touching, his erect cock snug against her belly, his chest against her breasts, his hands everywhere he could reach.

  They kissed and fondled and touched until, finally, she broke the kiss and regarded him with a slightly dazed expression. “I arrived prepared,” she said, then got off the bed to retrieve the package she’d placed on the chair.

  She withdrew something from the package and held it out to him with trembling hands.

  A French letter. A condom.

  Dukes must be wary of involving themselves with people who wish to leverage their position at the expense of the duke’s. If the duke is unmarried, he is to be extra cautious when dealing with young ladies, who almost certainly wish to entrap him into marriage.

  Unless the duke wishes to be entrapped, in which case it is best to disregard this advice and proceed.

  —THE DUKE’S GUIDE TO CORRECT BEHAVIOR

  Chapter 28

  She was entirely naked, in a duke’s bedroom, carrying a condom. With an equally naked duke lying on his bed waiting for her.

  If she weren’t actually here, she would doubt it had happened. But she was, and there he was, and so there, in fact, they were.

  She returned to the bed and scrambled up, glancing from the condom to his penis. Feeling skeptical one would fit inside the other.

  Did condoms come in different sizes? She should know, shouldn’t she, having purchased enough over the years? She didn’t think Mr. Davies had ever offered a different size, but perhaps the clientele of the brothel had been lesser-sized than the duke?

  Never having seen any examples of the appendage in question until now, she couldn’t answer that definitively. Only she thought perhaps he was larger than usual.

  “How is it you come to have that?” He didn’t look appalled, or disgusted, or anything but curious. But he definitely looked curious.

  “Well,” she began, “I didn’t want to return your nightshirt without considering what might occur. I like to plan things out in advance, you see.”

  His eyebrows rose as he pondered what she’d said. Then he shook his head and reached for the condom, sliding it on with barely an indication that it might not fit.

  It did fit. Thank goodness. Because if she had to look at him and his skin and his body and all those muscles and the light hair on his chest, she just might die if she didn’t get to do everything she’d planned.

  Which included, scarily enough, his putting that large thing of his into her. But she would just have to trust it would fit. Look how wrong she’d been about the condom.

  “Lily,” he said, a slow smile on his face, “I want this. Come here,” he said as he reached for her, wrapping his strong, muscular arms around her and moving so she lay under him. His body was a warm, welcome weight on hers, his penis hard between them, the hair on his chest tickling her skin.

  She reached up to cup his cheek, then ran her fingers over his ever-present stubble. “I want this, too,” she whispered.

  At that, he lowered his mouth to hers and positioned his body so he was at her entrance. She would be more anxious about it, only he was already taking her breath away with his mouth, his tongue sliding into her mouth, his hands all over her skin.

  And then his fingers at her entrance. He raised himself up off her, just enough so he could stroke there. He touched her there, in the spot she herself had discovered could bring her pleasure. But his touch was very different from hers, not to mention there were two participants and one of them was the most handsome naked duke she’d ever seen.

  Not that she’d seen any handsome naked dukes before, but the fact remained, it was him and she wanted him with an intensity that shocked her. She’d known it would be good, but she hadn’t dreamed it would be this good.

  And his large appendage hadn’t even entered her yet.

  He slid his fingers into her folds, and his face eased into a satisfied smile as his fingers touched her slick wetness.

  He looked so pleased she couldn’t even be embarrassed. Besides which, there was no room for any other feeling but pleasure right now. Later she could be embarrassed.

  “Do you like this, Lily?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

  She rolled her eyes. “What do you think?” she asked with a soft laugh.

  He g
rinned. “I want to hear you say it.”

  She reached around him to cup his backside. It was very firm, and flexed under her touch. “I like this, Marcus,” she said, squeezing him for emphasis.

  “Good. Because I have every hope we will be doing this for a long while,” he said, lowering his head to her neck.

  “Excellent plan,” she agreed, then let out a low moan as he licked the skin just behind her ear. He kissed her neck, then moved lower and took her nipple in his mouth.

  Oh my. That felt wonderful. His tongue licked and sucked on her, and she felt the warmth and heat of what he was doing spread throughout her entire body.

  Down there, plus every other place she could possibly feel anything.

  He took his mouth slowly away from her nipple, and then took the other nipple in, as though he were comparing the two.

  She moaned again, and arched, desperate for something, for some release of all the pressure building up throughout her body. How was he not inside her already? From what some of her working coworkers had said, men didn’t do more than thrust inside until they released. But he, he was taking his time, as though he were savoring her. As though the eventual thrusting and all was but a part of the whole process.

  So not only was he likely larger than the brothel’s patrons, he was also more patient. She had chosen well when she had chosen this particular naked handsome duke.

  Then he moved lower still, kissing her belly and touching her breasts and then lower still so that his mouth was where his fingers had been, and she held her breath, not entirely certain he would kiss her there but really hoping he would.

  Because if his fingers felt wonderful, how would his tongue feel?

  She only had to wonder for a few seconds before she got her answer. He licked her with one long swipe of his tongue, and she bit her lip so she wouldn’t moan so loudly that they were heard.

  He followed that with several more long licks, and she couldn’t stifle her moans. He lifted his head and met her gaze. “Do you like this?” he asked, his lips curved into a very satisfied smile.

  She nodded, and thankfully, he didn’t demand that she speak, since she didn’t think she could. He put his mouth on her again, and now he was licking faster, right at that spot she knew would provide release.

  Oh, and dear Lord, here it was, and she had a grip in his hair, and his hands were clasping her thighs and he was sucking and licking and blowing soft breaths on her skin that made her want to howl and moan and urge him to keep doing what he was doing, only she really couldn’t speak, until finally, eventually, and all too soon, she exploded, feeling as though her whole body had shattered into a million different stars, all of which were falling through the sky.

  When she finally recovered, he had moved up to lie beside her, one long leg over her body, his hands on her breasts, his penis poking her hip.

  “Did you like that?” he asked.

  So she whacked his arm and smiled at him. “What do you think?”

  He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “I think you did.”

  “So now let’s see about you,” she replied, taking his penis in her hand.

  A duke never boasts about his accomplishments.

  —THE DUKE’S GUIDE TO CORRECT BEHAVIOR

  Chapter 29

  There was nothing so satisfying as bringing a woman to orgasm, Marcus reflected. He hadn’t had much experience with it before, and he vowed to rectify that mistake as much as he possibly could in the future.

  She gripped his cock, and he pushed into her hand. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  “Stroke it up and down,” he replied, then groaned as she did as instructed. It felt incredible to have her fingers sliding along his shaft, even with the condom sheathing him.

  And, as it turned out, it was a damned good thing he already had the condom on. He couldn’t wait. He needed to be inside her.

  “Lily, you’re killing me,” he muttered, then moved so he was on top of her again, his cock at her entrance. He raised himself up on his arms and thrust, pushing inside her, past the barrier of her virginity, feeling her body tighten around him, hearing her gasp as he buried himself in her.

  When he had gone as far as he possibly could, he lowered himself down onto her, panting, wanting to move but wanting, more importantly, to make sure she was all right.

  “You have done this before, haven’t you?” she asked in a humorous tone. “Aren’t you supposed to move or something?”

  Yes, she was all right.

  He raised himself back up on his arms and began to thrust, in and out of her, the motion making her breasts jiggle in a delightful way. She had her hands at his waist and was watching what was happening down there, her lip caught between her teeth, her expression one of sensual engagement.

  And then he moved faster, sliding in and out, building to his eventual climax, savoring each movement, each moment when their skin touched, when she moaned, the tightening grip on his waist, his hips.

  One final thrust, then he spent and collapsed on top of her, his heart racing, his whole body feeling the impact of pleasure. She wrapped her arms around him and held him as his body shook with the tremors of his climax.

  “Well, that was more than two minutes,” he murmured into her neck.

  “Pardon?” she asked.

  He shook his head, as much as he was able to, given that his face was right against her skin. Her delicious, smooth, lovely skin.

  And as soon as they were married they could do this anytime they wished. He smiled at the thought.

  “Marcus?”

  He raised up, the tone in her voice making him think he was crushing her. “Was that all right? I mean, this and everything?” he said, gesturing to the fact that they were both naked in his bed.

  Oh, how he liked the sound of that.

  She swatted his arm. “Of course it was, I wanted it. I told you so. There need not be any worry on that score.”

  “What did you want to ask?” He continued without waiting for a response, “We’ll have to tell Rose first, of course, and then we can put an announcement in the papers. But I want a quiet ceremony, no more than a few friends. I barely have any family, at least none that I care about, so—”

  “What?” It sounded now as though not only had he crushed her, but that he had perhaps squashed two or three of her closest friends. Which he knew full well he hadn’t. “We can’t—I didn’t know, you didn’t say—we can’t get married!”

  His whole body stiffened. Well, except for that part. That part was still recovering.

  “What do you mean, we can’t get married? What was this all about, anyway?”

  Too late, he realized he hadn’t actually said anything. He’d just assumed, from her actions, that she wanted to be with him. Forever.

  That she did not wish to be with him forever was therefore somewhat of a blow.

  He rolled off her onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. Feeling ridiculous—he was entirely naked, spent and happy, but now the woman he wished to do this to every night had told him no. When he hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask her.

  “I—haven’t told you everything.” She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. She looked as though she were about to break, and Marcus felt a pang of emotion with which he wasn’t familiar. He thought it might be empathy.

  He reached up and stroked her back, his fingers trailing down her spine, then up again. It was a comforting gesture, one he didn’t think he’d ever made before. Nobody had ever wanted comfort from him.

  Money, whiskey, cat food, his bachelorhood, yes—but not comfort.

  Her body began to shake under his hand, and he knew that whatever it was, whatever it was she hadn’t told him, was more than she could bear on her own.

  “What is it?” he asked, resting his palm on her back.

  She moved off the bed, plucked her dressing gown from the floor and put it on, wrapping the sash tight around her. Then she wrapped her arms around her waist and return
ed to sit on the bed.

  Not looking at him.

  Her face pale.

  His heart already sore.

  “I know this was wrong,” she began, her hand gesturing to indicate what had just occurred between them, “but I couldn’t leave without it. It was selfish, I know.”

  Leave? First she had said no to a marriage proposal he hadn’t tendered yet, and now she was leaving?

  What could he have possibly done? He reviewed his activities; no, there was nothing to which she could object, unless it was the less than professional way he treated his employee. But since that employee was her, he didn’t think that was it.

  “I was not honest about my past.” She looked down at her hands, which were knotted together in her lap. “I never worked at a vicar’s. I—I—” and at this she looked up, her eyes meeting his, so dark he would have thought he had imagined the gold glints he knew lurked inside.

  “I worked at a brothel.”

  His stomach fell and he felt his mouth open in shock.

  “That is, I did not work work in a brothel. You should have been able to tell that,” she said with a return of her usual wry manner, “but I worked on the accounts. I was there for over a year.”

  “And?” He knew she was a virgin—had been a virgin—and he wanted to marry her, so how did it matter where she worked? Hadn’t they established by now that a duke could do what he wanted?

  “And you’re an idiot!” she said, slamming her palm down on the bed for emphasis. But since it was a bed with a coverlet, it didn’t do more than make a soft thudding noise.

  “How am I an idiot? I am not the one who has just had relations with a gentleman who wishes to marry her and she tells him no, she cannot marry him, even though he hasn’t even asked yet!”

  Now she looked as though she wanted to slam her palm down on him. Which was better than looking as though her world had ended. Not much, but he much preferred Angry Lily to Disconsolately Despairing Lily.

  “Have you ever, in your entire life, thought about the consequences of your actions?” she asked, her tone revealing her frustration. “It is not about us, Marcus. There is Rose to consider. How will people treat her if they knew that her governess had a disreputable past?”