Page 9 of To Ensnare a Duke

It's always this way when I perform this duty on my body, and it seems, if my understanding is not faulty, to be a correct course of action. Those I've listened in on have spoken of the scent a woman, mainly an omega, gives off when causing extreme pleasure. This must mean I'm doing it in the right manner.

Groaning, I breathe in the scent, allowing it to wash over my senses, heightening the sensations flooding my system. Again, I arch into my touch, biting down on my lower lip to keep from crying out and alerting family and staff of my current indisposition.

The hidden nature of what I do spurs me forward, heightening the need and desperation until I fear I am about to combust. More of the mysterious wetness gathers until my fingers nearly slip off of the tiny bundle of skin and pleasure betwixt my thighs.

The pressure begins to build, far faster than usual. It's a conundrum, one that plagues my brain as I buck against my inquisitive fingers. Does this mean I'm doing it better? More correct? Or am I doing it wrong, and things are simply spiraling beyond my control?

Perhaps it's because I'm overwrought, waiting until the last possible moment to find relief. I usually wait until desperation stirs my hand, but even today was far too long. I worry my treatment is no longer working for me but will require more and more until I'm touching myself several moments throughout the day.

Gritting my teeth, I toss my head back as that overwhelming feeling begins to climb through my limbs. So close to reaching that peak. So close to finally being in a rational mind once more. So achingly close.

A loud knock raps on the door, breaking the spell around me. Who could possibly interrupt at such a time? Closing my eyes, I do my best to ignore it, concentrating on the fleeting sensations as they race through my body. Just as I start to crest again, the blasted knock pulls me out.

Resisting the urge to scream in frustration, I toss my skirts down and stride over to the door. Flinging it open, I come face-to-face with my brother. His brows knit in concern as he takes in my disheveled appearance, and for a moment, I worry he knows what I've been doing.

“Your megrim must be worse than I thought. Forgive me for disturbing you. I only wished to inquire after your wellbeing and if you would indeed still like to take a turn or two around Hyde Park. I know how much you crave stretching your limbs while breathing in the air.”

My heart clenches as I look at his earnest face. It's certainly not the same as racing through the woods back home, but it's most definitely better than sitting at home cooped up.

Using the hand that hadn't been so scandalously touching my quim, I brush my hair away from my face and give him a small smile. "Your concern is appreciated. Perhaps I can have just a few more moments to myself before my maid prepares me? I wish to close my eyes for just a bit more."

He cranes his neck past me to look at the clock on the mantle. For a moment, fear freezes my insides as his face comes further into the room. Can he tell what I was doing? Without him noticing, I do my best to sniff the air, to see if the proof of my indiscretion continues to hang heavy in the air.

If he notices, he doesn't say a word. Pulling back, he cups my face in a brotherly manner, the same as he usually does when showing me affection. "We do not have to do this. If you are not well-"

"No, brother. You are right. Air is probably the best thing for me. Just allow me a few more moments of respite. Five minutes? Then I will have the maid attend me."

"If you insist..."

"I do," I hurry, trying my best not to just shove him out of the doorframe. "No sense in wasting such a beautiful day."

With a nod, he leaves, allowing me to shut the door and bolt it once more. Keeping an eye on the timepiece, I once more drag my skirts up and touch myself. My heart races as I softly moan at the pleasure exploding over my skin. Since nearly being caught, it's as if my body burns all the hotter.

One minute.

Almost there. Tears spark behind my eyelids as everything clenches. So close. So very, very close.

Two minutes.

I toss my head back, frustration stuttering my movements. The pleasure is so exquisite it borders on pain.

Three minutes.

Irritation builds as I do my best to hurry the process, touching myself a bit rougher to reach that peak before I must summon my lady's maid. Closing my eyes, I imagine what it would be like at the asylum with some unknown hands touching me where they ought not, delivering these sensations while I'm helpless.

Turning over onto my stomach, I continue to touch myself as I cry out into the pillow, the release washing over me. I stretch and strain, refusing to stop until every ounce is wrung out. Collapsing forward, I sob as relief races through me, allowing me to calm once more.

But I cannot stay still and bask in the glow of relief. Forcing myself from the bed, I stride over to the window with thirty seconds or so to spare. Once I open it, cool, crisp air flutters into the room, dissipating the scent until I cannot discern it as easily. Every step feels heavy, wooden, as I walk over to the door to unlock it.

This time, when I lie back on the bed, I don't have to pretend there's some ailment plaguing me. All I wish to do is sleep as Lydia bustles in, her bright smile causing my lip to curl up in a silent snarl. It's not her fault she's able to flit about without a brain broiled in madness.

It's not fair to her to show her such disdain because she's not afflicted as I am. Rolling over onto my side, I force myself off of the bed and back in the chair as she straightens up my hair. I do my best to give off an air of calm civility as she rakes through the tangles, putting me back to rights.

As I stare at my face in the mirror, I can't help but wonder what course this affliction will take. Will I ever get better? Or am I doomed to succumb to these animalistic urges?

CHAPTER 6

AUGUSTA