Page 22 of To Ensnare a Duke

Absently, I stroke at the top of my dress, where my breasts swell above the fabric. His eyes follow my movements with far more interest than I ever dared to imagine. Could it be he finds me enticing even if it’s just a scant amount?

“I’ve grown a bit since then. Filled out a bit more.”

“I see.” His voice is deep and gravelly, sending shards of pleasure down my spine.

“Besides, it’s not as if Alphas care all that much of a woman’s garments. What an odd question to ask.”

He chuckles for a moment before regaining his composure. "That was not quite what I meant, but your answer tells me everything I need to know. What I'm enquiring after is far more memorable than if your dress was made of muslin, taffeta, or any many colors that exist."

"Muslin? What do you know of muslin?" Despite the gravitas of the situation, I find myself bemused that the man even knows the word.

"I don't deal in the fabric, if that is what you're asking, but remember, I do have two sisters and a mother. Such things are freely discussed around the breakfast table."

"Ahh. I should have known. Not nearly as exciting as the alternative."

"And that would be?" He raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking in a ghost of a smile.

"You could be a smuggler. A purveyor of only the finest goods."

"So you think me a pirate? A rapscallion?" This time, there's no hiding the grin on his face.

I answer in kind, giving him a smile of my own. "You could be. You're certainly secretive and reclusive enough."

"That, I am," he agrees, stroking his chin. "And you're stalling."

"That, I am. In truth, I remember the sharp pain as he struck me."

"Your dress did not soften the blow?" He quirks his head to the side, as if listening for a silent answer.

Again, my face heats up as I duck my head. "I was forced to hold them to my body. And seeing as I was just in my morning dress, there wasn't all that much to keep me safe."

"I see. Well, my dear. I do my punishments a bit differently. You will stand at the desk and reach over, gripping the opposite side. Do so now."

As best as I can, I get into position. Heat rushes up my arms as they strain and burn with the effort it takes to hold on to the other side. My breasts smoosh into the wood, forcing my stays to rub against my sensitive nipples.

A soft groan, so slight I barely hear it, escapes my lips and fogs the surface of the desk below. It's agony lying here as the duke rummages through the drawers. Not because of the discomfort of my position, but because I'm aware of just how imposing he is, as well as his mastery over me.

The humiliation of leaning over like this isn't lost on me. Any number of servants could walk in and see me about to be punished. What would they think? Not that any of them should ever know, and not that I should care, but it does make me keenly aware of how I'm in supplication to him, awaiting his judgment.

Eventually, he stands up straight. I crane my neck to watch him loosen his cravat and pull it from his shirt. With that one motion, everything in me clenches. I don't understand it, and yet, it makes me crave him all the more. My mouth dries even as a bit lower, I'm far more scandalously wet.

He places the scrap of cloth onto the desk and slides it toward me with two fingers. "I will be a bit harsher than your brother. Not only did you put your reputation and honor at risk, but you also put your life at risk. I cannot allow you to think that is a good notion. I will not gag you unless you think you need it. Can you take your punishment with quiet dignity, or will I have to restrain you?"

His breathing deepens a bit as he asks that last question. By now, his eyes are pitch black. From what I understand, for an Alpha to look this way means heightened emotion. Normally lustful in nature. That is, if the men I've listened in on are to be believed. Is there a chance I might win him over still?

"I'm waiting. I will have your answer, Lady Hunt."

"Please," I croak out. "If you're going to humiliate me by punishing me like my brother, you might as well use my Christian name. That is, since you do consider me a sister, after all."

It's dangerous to bait him in this way, but some perverse need wants to see his reaction to my words. Somehow, his eyes dilate even further until no hint of light brown shows. Even curiouser, the front of his trousers tent, bulging in the front.

I dare not question after this affliction, seeing as he will probably be mortified to speak of it. It's rather alarming seeing as it's in the same region where I throb down below. Perhaps we both suffer from the same ill effects just in different ways.

If only I paid more attention to the men around me. But then, I didn't often allow my gaze to stray past their vests. There was nothing of import to me down below. Now, I can see I am far more wrong than I ever have been.

Silence continues to stretch between us as Portswell continually balls up the cravat in his fingers, only to release the bit of fabric back against the wood. With slow, aching precision, he attacks the cuffs of his sleeves, rolling up one then the other.

His muscles clench and bunch with each movement, drawing my gaze to the thick, strong veins running the length of his limbs. The virile display he puts on for me makes my body scream out in wanton desire. It doesn’t matter that a punishment causes him to reveal his body to me. I’m simply grateful to revel in it before he takes me in hand.