Chapter 19
Arosy streak crossed Ellie’s cheeks. “Oh heavens… I didn’t do anything so off-putting last night, did I?”
“Do you remember what you said?” He probed. “Anything at all?”
She bit a corner of her lip while she squinted, “I remember asking you about dinner. I’d waited for you to come, but you did not join me.”
His smirk was salacious, “There is still time for that, kitten.”
His comment flew over her head as she squeezed her eyes and sighed. “Is there a set of African drums banging around?”
“No, sweet one,” Dorian leaned over to kiss her cheek. “That’s your head. But don’t fear, I have a meal, medicine, and a refreshing bath waiting for you,” he smoothed his thumb over her cheekbone.
“Stay here and convalesce in my room. I’ll be in my study when you are ready to find me. In the meantime, I’ll have your maid see to you.”
Sliding from the bed, he donned a robe and left the room, heading for his study. He took the cup of coffee with him and requested a pot to be sent to him as he slid behind the desk.
A little while later, Baxter trundled in with the pot of coffee in one hand and a tray of letters in the other. “Good morning, Your Grace,” he said, while setting both down. “I hope you groveled appropriately enough to Her Grace last night, or this morning?”
Eyeing his butler flatly, Dorian's tone mirrored his look. “There was no groveling, court jester. I’d prefer to have my coffee without a dose of scolding.”
“Understood, Sir,” Kenneth replied, the hints of a smile wiped from his face—though he could not hide the humor in his eyes. “Her Grace’s aunt has sent a letter to her dear niece, as has Lady Victoria Rothwell.”
Curious, Dorian reached for both letters but actively refrained from tearing them open. If he wanted Evelina to trust him, he would leave her private correspondence private.
He plucked up a letter from Drake, knowing that Kenneth had seen his hesitation. “There’s been some good news, Kenneth. I met Harcourt last night, and the progression is promising.”
“That’s good,” Kenneth intoned. “I do so hope he entrusts you with the business.”
While sifting through the letters, Dorian came across one labelled Lloyds Bank and opened it, then skimmed through the contents in moments. Kenneth, while brewing the cup of coffee, asked, “Bad news?”
“No,” he folded the letter. “It is simply about the trust I’d set up for Evelina. Nothing to worry about.”
“Good,” Kenneth pushed the cup and saucer to him. “Is there anything else you require this morning, Your Grace?”
“Did we send back our agreement to attend Lady Tresman’s musicale and ball?” Dorian asked, frowning.
“Her Grace took care of that, Sir,” Kenneth said. “I am sure the Merry Widow would love to have the most reclusive Duke and his wife under her roof.”
“Naturally,” Dorian refrained from rolling his eyes while reaching for a pen. “For gossip fodder. I do not know which is worse—having anonymity that keeps people guessing or getting rumors and whispers that makes one feel as if privacy is a concept and not a right.”
“Which is why I am sure you will do everything in your power to present a unified front so there are no whispers,” Kenneth intoned as sternly as Dorian imagined his father might’ve.
He cocked a brow. “What about me taking my coffee without a scolding?”
Chuckling, Kenneth left the room, and Dorian retook the letter from the bank again. “The sum of five hundred and fifty thousand pounds has been acquired and has been deposited on behalf of Her Grace, the Duchess of Wolfthorne.”
A satisfied smile crossed his face. “At least there won’t be any quibbling about this. Her fortune is hers.”
He settled into work, and by midday, closed a folio and pondered if he should go and see how Ellie was faring. Maybe summon her maid instead so as not to disturb her?
“Dorian?” Evelina’s soft voice broke through his musings.
He immediately glanced up, ready to chide her for why she was not resting, but the garment she wore had his mouth clamped shut. For a woman as prim and proper as she was, he’d expected a day dress, even a dowdy one, but at present, she wore a sleek robe of sapphire silk.
The deep crevice between her breasts clung to her curves, and with her hair spilling around her shoulders and down her back, she looked every inch an exotic queen.
“How…. are you feeling?”
“The bath, the laudanum, and the light breakfast worked wonders,” she sighed as she took a seat. “Thank you for your foresight.”
Pushing away from the table, he crossed the room to close the door, then strode to take a seat next to her. “It was not so much foresight as it was lessons learned from many nights soused like a sailor. Do I dare ask if you have managed to recall our conversation last night?”
She shook her head slowly. “Only what I told you this morning.”
He grasped her hand and looked into her emerald eyes. “You asked me to make our union a proper marriage, not one which I would dissolve after the agreed time has passed.”
Her cheeks colored. “Then I assume I added that I’d acquired some inconvenient—”
“Emotions,” he finished. “You did.”
Her lips ticked down. “I know you do not believe in love or anything close to it, so I would prefer if we could put that little indiscretion of mine behind us—”
“And what if I say no?”
Ellie’s mouth was primed to rush on, but Dorian’s words stopped her. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, “What—what do you mean?”
His brows lowered as he held her hand in both of his now.
“What if I do away with the divorce? You still have the privilege to do as you please, we still have separate bedrooms, but once or twice a week, we can stay in my bed. Given our attraction to one another, bedsport will be most pleasurable between us.”
She almost choked. “Do you… do you mean to say you’ll truly make me your wife?”
“Only if you want,” Dorian chuckled at her part-awestruck, part-aghast expression. “But in the meantime, I do want to take you up on your request last night.”
“The one where I touch you as you’ve touched me…” she whispered as her face warmed, though her gaze remained bold. “…I remember that too.”
A brisk tug on her hand had her gasping and falling forward, but he caught her first. His hand cupped her waist and chin before he kissed her. The almost tender kiss caught fire instantly, and he hauled her onto his lap.
He slid his hands under her robe; the silk of her clothes was almost as soft and smooth as her skin. Cupping her bottom, he was surprised to feel nothing under the robe. His kiss grew torrid as molten need seared through his veins.
She was hot as a flame, feverish with need under his hand.
He peeled her lapels away and sealed his mouth over a pebbled nipple while stroking her thighs and derrière.
She rocked on his lap, the subtle movements made heat flood Dorian’s groin, and his arousal thickened, butting against his trousers.
Soft, breathy moans left her mouth while he pressed her down firmly enough that she felt him. “Feel that, sweetheart,” he murmured after pulling away. “That’s how much you affect me.”
When he captured her earlobe between his teeth, she gasped and squirmed in his lap. He kept on teasing her, keeping away from where he knew she wanted him to touch her. He wanted her drunk on lust that her urge to touch him would transcend to something more; he wanted her mouth on him.
Shifting her to the side, he took her mouth again, while, with one hand, he undid the placket of his buff trousers. Grasping her hand, he slid it under the cloth.
Her mouth parted in shock, and her eyes dropped between them. Fumbling with the fasteners, he pushed the placket of his trousers lower, his rod springing eagerly free of its confines. He heard her breath shudder when her fingers wrapped around his hot, pulsing heat.
“You are very…” she paused as her fist took a tentative stroke up, “… burgeoned.”
“I am like that when you’re around,” he tipped his head back in a pleased sigh. He flexed his hips as pleasure surged up his spine.
Leaning back on his elbows, he gave himself up to the pleasure of her touch, of watching her work his turgid pole with her delicate hands.
With a firm grip on her wrist, he guided her hand. Showing her the general motion to please him. Ellie caught on quickly. She tackled the task with a feminine determination that made his blood heat even further.
His shaft jerked in her palms as she ran a fist from root to tip, his skin gliding with velvet softness over the poker-stiff core.
“Faster, harder…” he exhaled.
She instantly obeyed, and God, her hands shuttled faster, ready to bring him to the brink.
Pleasure seared through his veins as he encouraged her with guttural praises.
A bead emanated from his crown, and Ellie paused to wipe it off.
Her touch, at the most sensitive part of his body, made him shudder.
“You liked that?”
“More than you’ll ever know,” he whispered hoarsely.
Her fingers went back to work, and, being the minx she was, she made sure to swipe her fingers over him at every passing moment. He felt her slip off the couch, and he cracked his eyes open only to clench them tightly again. She was on her knees so that she was eye level with his turgid length.
His eyes were half-lidded, and his mouth was taut with anticipation. What was she going to do?
Groaning, he thrust himself into her hands. She began to pump him, the delicious friction heating her palms. He fought to keep his hips from not lifting, but the faster and faster her hands went, it felt torturous.
Her exquisitely fiery touch threatened to make him lose his mind. And then she paused, cocked her head to the side, leaned over, and licked away a bead from his crown.
“Good god…” he reached for her head. “Are you trying to kill me, sweetheart?”
She proceeded to kiss her way up and down his length; the butterfly touches of her lips nearly pulled him apart. When she licked the tip again like an inquisitive kitten, he let out a tortured groan.
“How far are you willing to take this, Evelina?”
“It depends,” she whispered. “Am I doing this right?”
“You’re perfection,” Dorian groaned. “Take as much of me into your mouth as you can. Suck on me, love, as if I were your favorite sweet, and watch your teeth.”
Just as he was about to turn it into a jest and let her off the hook, she bent her head. His entire being shuddered as wet fire engulfed his prick. “Christ.”
Gently, he wound his fingers into her hair, gripping a silken handful, using it to guide her. The sight of her bobbing over him was almost too much to bear. She could only manage to take about half of his length, but, holy hell, it was enough.
“Breathe through your nose, love,” he instructed hoarsely, “and relax your throat if you can. God, yes. Just like that.”
Watching her, feeling her devotion to his body, he was struck by how different this was from any woman he’d known before. This wasn’t just any woman performing fellatio—this was Evelina.
Prim, proper Evelina was now looking like a seductive siren as she pleasured him. His head fell back in bliss.
She dipped too far, and he hit the back of her throat. She choked a little, and he shuddered: it was too much, he couldn’t take any more. He pulled her off him and grasped himself in hand. As he kissed her hard, his manhood pulsed, shooting a hot geyser against his palm.
He slumped back into the chair, euphoria racing through every fiber of his being. Evelina was resting on his chest, her soft breath skittering over his neck.
When he did catch his breath, he whispered, “You did well on your first time, sweetheart.”
She nosed at his cheek. “My tutors always said the quickness I had acquiring new subjects was uncanny.”
With his head cocked on the lip of the couch, he laughed. “They were onto something there.”
Ellie rested her hand over his chest, “Why didn’t you let me—”
“I was too close, love,” he told her while stroking up and down her back. “A gentleman doesn’t finish in a lady’s mouth.”
“Hmm,” she pondered. “Until today, I wasn’t aware a woman could do such a thing to a man.”
He shifted her off his lap to tuck himself in and straighten his clothes. With his clean hands, he stroked her face, “I’ve probably gotten you all worked up, pet. Should I—”
Ellie shook his head, “No, you don’t need to.”
“Are you sure?” Dorian pressed. “I can—”
“What you can do for me is join me for luncheon,” she smiled coyly. “And then a nap. I think we have a ball to attend tonight, and I do not want to look as if I’ve been dragged out of a haystack.”
“As long as there are no cucumber sandwiches,” he chuckled. “I despise those things.”
“I think that is the first food item you’ve told me that you despise.” She cast her sweet gaze up at him. “Tell me more.”