Chapter Five #2
Cassandra had never been kissed like this in her entire life, as though she were being explored and savored. She grasped his coat, desperate to hold on to something to keep her grounded.
Evans kissed her with the patience of a man who took pride in his mastery. He teased her lips, her tongue—even his breaths brought her pleasure and torment. She melted into his embrace, desperate for more. There had to be more.
When Evans drew back, breaking the kiss, Cassandra moaned her disappointment. He searched her face with a bemused expression, his eyes midnight and his lips tilted in a roguish smile.
“Who are you?” Cassandra asked, her voice shaking and her limbs weak.
“Does that truly matter?” He brushed his thumb along her jaw.
Trembling from the lingering fury and the rush of desire that left her breathless, Cassandra nodded. “It does.”
“Only to you.” He stepped away, releasing her. “I should go.”
Cassandra swayed before bracing herself against the chair. She rushed forward, catching his arm as he strode toward the door.
“Evans, where are you going?”
He turned, his brow arched. “You asked me to leave.”
“You dare kiss me like that then abandon me in such a state?”
Evans grinned. “What state would that be, madam?”
“Forget I said anything.” She sniffed, releasing his arm. “Go.”
“I am afraid I cannot.” Evans reached behind him and locked the door.
Cassandra took a startled step back, maintaining some distance between them. “Wha-What are you doing?”
Her heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement as he prowled closer. She thought she knew this man. Thought he cared for her. Heavens, she had practically begged him to seduce her. But having him here like this unleashed something inside her she had never even pondered.
“What I should have done years ago,” he growled.
What have I done?
*
The dowager duchess blinked at him with wide eyes. Where there should have been fear—disgust—lay only desire. He crept closer, slowly closing the gap between them, ensuring no escape for his quarry.
“Evans—I—You misunderstand.”
Reuben inclined his head, taking note of her rapid breathing, the flushed pallor on her cheeks, the generous swell of her kiss-bruised lips. “I do not believe I misunderstood at all.”
The dowager duchess’s backside hit the desk, and Reuben seized the opportunity to cage her in, trapping her.
His hands splayed on the desk surface, nails digging into the wood as the ache to touch her consumed him.
He knew what she felt like in his arms. Knew the singular taste of her lips.
Now that he possessed this knowledge, nothing save death could stop him from craving it with every fiber of his being.
It was wrong, given their stations and his history, but God help him, he could not find the conscience to care.
“How could I possibly misunderstand when you taste like heaven and torment me as though I were bound in the depths of hell.” Reuben inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet scent of lilac and citrus combined with the heat of her skin and the effervescent hint of her arousal.
“I have dreamed of this since the moment I crossed that threshold, madam.” His gaze bored into hers.
“And now that I have indulged in the forbidden, I will surrender to the damnation, whatever the consequence.”
Her gasp made him smile. Good. Surely, if he must live through this torment, then she must feel the same.
“Wh-Who are you?” the dowager duchess asked again, her voice breathless.
“I am no one of consequence, madam. No one of means or title.” His lips teased along the curve of her jaw, and she trembled beneath the whisper-soft touch. “But I am a man entranced. A man devoted. Obsessed.” The last word left his lips on a growl. “And I desire none as I do you.”
“Eva—” His name died on her lips as a moan tore from her throat.
He traced the column of her throat with his mouth, committing every detail to memory. The softness of her skin. The heady aroma of her presence. The pliant curves of her body. Throwing all reservations aside, Reuben grasped her waist and lifted, placing her on the desk.
The dowager duchess sucked in a surprised breath and clung, both hands, to his arms to steady herself as she rocked on the desk surface. Shifting, she cupped his face in his hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. Eyes glassy, hazed with need, she searched his face and licked her lips.
“Allow me to give you the attention and care you deserve, madam.”
With a shaky nod, she loosened her hold.
He slid his hand over her hip, down to her thigh, where he gathered handfuls of her skirt in his hand and tugged them up.
Her breath hitched as the fabric slid along her legs.
He allowed his gaze to wander to the exposed skin, clad in silk stockings.
When his fingertips brushed the delicate, pale skin along the hem of her drawers, she swayed against him.
“Whatever you do, madam, do not let go.” He held her gaze, desperate to see every flush of pleasure wash over her lovely face as he explored her.
Slowly, he trailed his fingers higher until they met the silken center of her. He nudged her legs apart with his hips, creating a delicious friction. She sighed, and he longed to capture those whimpers on his tongue. Not yet, he chided himself. Patience.
Reuben’s cock throbbed. He had barely touched her and he nearly fucking came at the thought of being the first man to bring her pleasure.
He knew the old duke had merely done his part and sired an heir.
There had never been any passion between them.
In Reuben’s years of service, she had been faithful to the old bastard, even though he took every opportunity to shame and abuse her.
The old man had been a damned fool for neglecting such a prized treasure.
The duchess deserved pleasure, passion, and love.
And if he could bring her two of those things, he would do it without hesitation.
The first brush of his fingers across her pussy made his cock twitch.
Her sighing gasp echoed in the study. As much as he longed to hear her cry out with every touch, he could not risk the other servants hearing.
Reuben kissed her—hard—devouring her moans and sighs as he gently stroked along her folds, slipping his fingers deeper with every deliberate stroke.
Reuben consumed every moan, letting it break upon his tongue as he explored her.
His kiss deepened as he pressed two fingers inside her slick channel.
She arched her hips, taking him deeper, allowing him to stroke a perfect rhythm against her most sensitive spots.
When he pressed his thumb to the swollen nub at the apex of her thighs, she broke the kiss, crying out.
“That’s it, darling.” Reuben coaxed her, moving his fingers faster. “Take me. Use me.”
Her Grace held tight, her lips parted, hips pliant.
Strands of her hair pulled loose from the intricate knot her maid had created.
Blush stained her cheeks and neck, marring her pale skin.
She clung to him as her desperate pants played a melody to his ears.
He basked in the knowledge that he so thoroughly unraveled her delicate composure. That he made her feel something.
“Evans,” she pleaded. “Please.”
“We are beyond propriety, madam,” he murmured against her ear. “My given name is Reuben.”
“I—know.” She groaned as he thrust deeper with three fingers, clutching his clothes in ironclad fists. “Reuben, I beg of you—end this torment.”
“As you wish, madam.” He kissed her again, hard and punishing, as his palm ground against her mound, and his fingers sought to ease the tenuous need pulsing inside of her.
If this was to be his only chance, Reuben would never forego the opportunity to taste her fully, to hear her sweet mewling cries of desire. He pulled back and dropped to his knees, drawing her to the edge of the desk.
Her sex glistened in the ambient sunlight drifting through the windows. Magnificent, he thought as he grasped her hips, pinning her in place.
“Wha—” Her exclamation died on her lips as he licked her slickened cunt. “Reuben,” she sighed, burying her fingers in his hair.
There had never been anything more decadent on his tongue, more satisfying than this moment.
He had dreamed of it. Fantasized about it.
And yet nothing came close to the actuality of him being on his knees, worshipping this woman in the way God intended.
She clutched at his scalp, holding his hair in fistfuls as he laved her sweet essence at his convenience, determined to show her the meaning of pleasure.
“Reuben, saints, please, I beg you.”
Her panted pleas reached his ears and he reveled in the desperation hidden beneath her command. He quickened his pace, savoring every moment.
As he moved, she echoed the momentum, meeting him thrust for thrust, groan for groan.
Until she reached the pinnacle of her pleasure.
Her body tensed beneath his touch. His hands gripped tighter.
His mouth closed around her aching bud, and he suckled, milking every simpering whimper from her lips.
Every delightful twitch. He delighted in his successful seduction.
The dowager duchess now knew the meaning of the word pleasure.
With attentive care, Reuben teased her, allowing every moan and sigh to guide him.
When he slid two fingers inside her, she swore.
Pride suffused him at the knowledge that he unraveled her propriety with such a simple stroke.
Gently, he fucked her, alternating the pressure between his mouth and digits.
His other hand gripped her thigh, holding her open and bracing her against the desk.
Her body arched against him, back bowed as her soft cries filled the study. He hissed in a breath when her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging the strands into her fists.
“Reuben,” she panted, her breaths quickening. She rocked her hips, encouraging his momentum, urging him on. It would take very little to push her over the edge into blissful abandon.
He suckled, drawing her sweet center into his mouth as he thrust deeper, harder, faster.
The dowager duchess shattered beneath his touch.
A choked cry tore from her throat as she found her release.
Her shaking hands held tight as the waves of pleasure consumed her.
She clenched around his fingers, and for a flickering moment, he wished it was his cock buried inside her.
He shook those thoughts away and focused instead on her.
Slowly, he withdrew his hand and rocked back on his heels. Gazing up at her, Reuben grinned at the disheveled duchess spread like a feast on the desk. Saints, how he wanted her. Wanted to take her fully, drive deep into her slickened cunt and claim her completely. She would be his.
“Well, then,” she murmured, her voice shaky. “That was—illuminating.”
Reuben rose to his feet, gently rearranging her skirts to hide the temptation to cross the line even further. “I am honored to be of service, madam.”
Her brow furrowed. “What do you—”
A tentative knock startled them, and Her Grace’s eyes widened as she realized the precarious situation in which she found herself. She slid from the desk, rearranging her skirts and patting the sides of her hair, cursing beneath her breath when she realized it had come loose.
“See to that, Evans.” She turned away, pressing a hand to her chest.
Guilt stabbed at him. He cursed himself and whoever had knocked. The moment between them was gone, lost to the harsh presence of reality.
He opened the door to find Mrs. Mercer standing on the other side, wringing her hands. “What is it, Mrs. Mercer?”
“The dowager duchess has visitors in the parlor.” She handed him their calling cards.
“Visitors, you say?” The dowager duchess appeared by his side, and he opened the door further, putting distance between them. She took the cards from his hand, her eyes widening.
“Mrs. Mercer, please send Sidlow to assist me in my chambers.” Her Grace turned to Reuben. “Please attend my guests and inform them I will be present momentarily.”
Reuben gave a curt nod and watched the dowager duchess lead the way to her chamber. Mrs. Mercer followed closely behind. The moment they were out of sight, he slumped against the door frame.
His cock ached, pressing insistently against his trousers.
How could he attend to her guests in this state?
Taking several deep, steadying breaths, he imagined the least-arousing things his mind could conjure.
Once he was certain his arousal was under control, he attempted to clear his mind of the simmering conflict still unresolved between himself and the dowager duchess.
Fuck. How much more complicated could it possibly get? Later. I shall resolve it later.
After straightening his coat, he slipped into the wash closet to clean himself properly and don a new pair of gloves before proceeding to the parlor. No one would be the wiser.