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She wouldn’t be either.

“You can have it,” she whispered huskily. “Today can happen, Duke. You know the way to make that happen.”

He just needed to let go of his rule.

The muscles in his face clenched, twisting as though in pain. And it was painful. Not being able to touch him was the most torturous denial.

He stood.

Her heart rate picked up. Was he…?

He dragged his chair closer. Then slowly sat back down and resumed stroking himself. A mere arm’s length away.

But he’d made his point clear. He wouldn’t be capitulating. They were at an impasse.

So this would have to do.

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t add to the torture.

“Too bad, Your Grace.” She skated her fingers lower, lightly circling but not dipping inside. His chest surged with heavy breaths, gaze locked on her fingers. His hand sped up, his swollen tip disappearing and reappearing in a blur. She swallowed hard, her core clenching. Like it could draw him closer, draw him in. She was so empty. And the man before her had the perfect solution.

She finally sank her fingers inside. Her body curled over itself, her core squeezing. The Duke’s hips bucked, and his growl swirled around him. “It’s not enough,” she whispered hoarsely.

His attention flew to hers.

“They’re not enough.” She let the plea into her voice, the desperate need. “They don’t fill me the way you would.” She sank deeper, and her head dropped back, eyes sliding shut. “They don’t stretch me the way you would.” Her breath hitched. “Oh, that stretch.” Her words ended on a moan. “I can only imagine how it would feel with a man your size.” She was trying to hold back, to tease him, but her control was wavering. She massaged that spot deep inside, and her toes curled. Bliss coiled tight, building, strengthening. Her climax hovered just out of reach.

“I’m so close.” Her words were nothing but a pained cry. “How could you, Duke? How could you deny me what I need?”

The scrape of wood had her eyes flying open.

And her lungs stalled.

Because she was now face-to-face with His Grace. His heavy breaths puffing over her skin, his scar a stark white. He towered over her, his hand still sliding over his glistening cock.

Every muscle in his body was so tense, she was afraid he was going to do himself injury.

He leaned forward.

Her skin tingled in anticipation. His lips were right there. Lord, how she wanted him to claim her. In every way. Drive deep inside her and sate the ache only his body could.

But he didn’t touch her.

“You think you know what you need?” he murmured.

A tremor shook through her frame.

“You don’t.”

Her thighs clenched, pleasure rolling in. She wasn’t going to be able to hold it back any longer. She was too close.

He shifted so his mouth hovered by her ear. His knuckles grazed her inner thigh with every stroke. It was agony. His tantalizing presence, inches away. Yet forbidden.

It was too much. Her back bowed, a half-sob, half-moan ripping from her. She sank her fingers deep, her palm pressing against where she throbbed. Pleasure flared to life, engulfing her in its flames. And somehow through the roaring bliss burning through her, she heard it. His wicked whisper.

“You cannot even begin to imagine the things I can give you, Miss Dawson.”

His tortured groan filled the room, filled her senses. Followed by a stream of heat landing on her stomach. A ripple of bliss shook through her, his seed coating her skin prolonging her pleasure.