Iris’s breath froze in her lungs. She knew exactly what he meant. The command was clear, filthy, and utterly scandalous. Heat flooded her entire body; her thighs clenched tighter together.
“I… I cannot,” she breathed, wide-eyed with shame.
“You can,” Blaise countered. “And you will. How can you be so eager to touch me, to explore what strains against these trousers, if you cannot even bring yourself pleasure first? Touch yourself, Iris. And let me watch.”
Mortification overwhelmed her, but so did a dark, thrilling excitement. She should refuse. She should stand up and walk away from this wicked game. Yet her body remained, and the intensity in his gaze kept her captive.
His fingers left her hair and moved to her chin, tilting her face up firmly but gently. His touch was warm, but it sent a shiver through her.
“Do it,” he said, soft yet utterly demanding. “Now.”
Something inside Iris broke. She did not know what possessed her, perhaps the years of quiet widowhood, or perhaps the way this man had awakened every suppressed desire within her. No matter what it was, she obeyed his maddening words.
She dropped the napkin and, with trembling hands, gathered the skirts of her gown, pulling the fine fabric upward until it bunched around her waist. Cool air kissed her bare thighs. Her fingers hesitated, then slipped inside her drawers and in between her legs.
The first brush against her slick folds made her gasp. She was soaking; her own arousal coated her fingers instantly. She found the sensitive pearl at the center of her mound and circled it tentatively, biting her lip to stifle a moan. All the while, Blaise’s hand remained on her chin, holding her gaze locked with his. His own breathing matched hers, and she could not look away even if she wanted to.
“That’s it.” his voice was thick with lust. “Let me see how wet you are for me.”
She removed her hand and showed him her glistening fingers.
“Such a good, obedient girl. Does it feel good, touching yourself while your duke watches?”
“Y… yes,” Iris whimpered, her fingers returned to her sensitive spot and moved faster.
The mortification was still there, burning hot in her cheeks, but beneath it bloomed a sort of freedom she had never experienced before. For once, she was simply a woman who was desired and allowed to feel desire. Her shame only heightened the pleasure, making every stroke of her fingers more nerve-wracking than the last.
Blaise’s breathing grew heavier. His thumb brushed across her lower lip, parting it slightly. Iris’s hips rocked instinctively against her own hand, imagining it was his hand pleasuring her.
“I enjoy looking at you,” he rasped as his eyes darkened like the midnight sky. “Kneeling so prettily, while I watch. I can hear how wet you are, Little Blossom, and that sweet sound is driving me mad.”
Iris moaned softly, her head tilting back slightly against his hold. She was lost in it now, circling herself faster, and chasing the building pleasure. Blaise’s hand moved to the front of his wine-stained trousers. He unfastened them with practiced ease and freed his member.
Iris’s eyes widened. He was magnificently thick, long, and achingly hard. He wrapped his large hand around his shaft and began to stroke himself slowly, deliberately, in time with the movements of her fingers.
The sight undid her completely.
“Oh… Blaise,” she moaned.
The vision of the powerful Duke of Knoxford pleasuring himself while watching her pushed her straight over the edge. Her body tightened, thighs trembling, and pleasure crashed through her in a shattering climax. She cried out, fingers pressing hard against her pulsing core as waves of ecstasy rolled through her while Blaise stroked himself. It was all a blur for her as she watched him grunt, hot seed spilling from him, mixing with the wine on his trousers. Before she knew it, Blaise rose to his feet and looked down at her.
“Good girl.” His voice was rough with restraint.
He grazed her lip with his thumb, and without another word, he turned and left the dining room, closing the door softly behind him. Iris remained on the floor for several long moments, trying to catch her breath. Her body still hummed with aftershocks, her core clenching rhythmically around nothing. Slowly, she lowered her skirts and rose on unsteady legs.
All she could think about was how much more intense it would have felt if it had beenhishands.Hismouth on her. Orhisthick shaft replacing her own tentative touch. The fantasy made fresh heat stir within her despite her recent release.
CHAPTER 15
“Oh, Iris, you simply must hear this one!” Pamela exclaimed, her voice bright with excitement as she clutched a slim volume of poetry to her chest. “It is from the new collection by Lord Byron. The words are so passionate, so full of longing and forbidden desire. Listen to this passage!”
Iris smiled warmly as she sat in Camelia’s elegant drawing room with a cup of tea cooling in her hands. She considered Pamela another younger sister. It was so pleasant hearing the girl speak so lively. When Iris first met Pamela, she thought she was mute, but now, at the tender age of seventeen, she outspoke Iris at all their gatherings.
She understood how grief could make one silent; after all, it had happened to her too.
“‘She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies…” Pamela read aloud, her tone dramatic and heartfelt. “Is it not the most exquisite thing you have ever heard?It makes one’s heart ache with such sweet melancholy. I have been reading it every night before bed.”
“It is quite beautiful,” Iris agreed softly, though her mind wandered. The mention of forbidden desire sent an unwelcome rush of heat to her cheeks. She could not help but think of Blaise, the way he had looked down at her on her knees and commanded her to pleasure herself. She would not forget the heat in his eyes as she had touched herself for him. The memory made her shift uncomfortably in her seat.
