Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

AUGUSTA

D ark rings line my eyes as I stare at myself in the mirror. One more day until my wedding, and I look horrid. Despite what that bastard tells me every night, I can't ignore the need as it courses through my veins like fire threatening to consume me. As much as I throw myself into planning this wedding, it doesn't take my mind fully off the bulbous torture device lodged up my bottom. It doesn't keep my fingers from wanting to touch myself in secret.

Would he actually know? The blackguard seems to know so much about me. He knows more than I know of myself. It's simply not fair.

Squirming as I look toward the privy, I debate just how badly I need to relieve myself. Pulling the dilator out and shoving it back in is an exercise in agony. And not the kind I can just ignore. If it were actual pain, I could probably push past the discomfort to focus on what's more important.

No. Every bit is pleasurable. The fullness steals my breath, making it all the more difficult to dislodge. And when I shove it back in? That's even worse. The cad knew what he was doing when he gave me this 'gift'.

It wasn't a means to show me his affection. It was a means to control me. Even now as I think about what else I could be doing, I find myself distracted.

With a soft growl under my breath, I opt to using the privy now before my lady's maid wonders as to the length of time I'm taking with my morning routine. How easy it would be to just leave the blasted thing out. Unfortunately, as I'm learning, Portswell is true to his word.

Each night he steals into my room like a blasted thief. Only, it's not my possessions he steals, but my very sanity. Each night, the dilator he brings is, in fact, a far bit larger than the one before it. Even now, as I pull it from my bottom, I cannot believe the girth that comes out of me.

It's unseemly.

It's perverse.

Dear God in heaven, it feels divine.

I don't know how long I have between sessions for my body to reject the massive size, making the next one something I cannot handle. As much as I wish to try to find out, the fear of actual pain keeps me from disobeying him. So far, I've been able to take each size as he forces it deep into my body, and I wish to keep it that way.

Once I'm finished, I clean the damned object and hoist up my leg. Though the cad was kind enough to leave me some lubricant, the very idea of using my fingers down there is far too shocking for me to contemplate. Instead, I drag the smooth glass though the liquid dripping from my body.

With each pass, the tip nudges my clit, sending shards of exquisite sensation flooding through me. I'm playing with fire. I know this, and yet, I can't help myself from seeing just how far I can go before it's too much. Again and again, I graze the sensitive nerves until that familiar coil in my gut clenches tight and causes my eyes to nearly cross.

From the times I've pleasured myself in the past, I know beyond this point, I may not be able to come back. With my body buzzing from the stimulation and the dilator glossy and wet with my arousal, I prod my back entrance, biting down on my lower lip as I force the thick head past the tight ring.

Somehow, it always feels better when Portswell does it. Perhaps it's the intimacy of feeling him guide it in, coaxing me to take it. Closing my eyes, I picture the arse telling me what a good girl I am for taking it so well. In truth, it's almost as if he's in the room with me now.

My breath comes in a haggard gasp as I push it in further, stretching the ring out as far as it will go. From the other side of the door, I can hear Lydia bustle about, getting things ready for the morning. I must make this quick before she discovers my secret shame.

Baring down, I breathe out as I push in, firmly lodging the blasted thing up my backside. I wash my hands and splash my face with some cold water, hopefully drawing the heat from my cheeks. After a few more moments, I'm back to being presentable.

As I step out into the room, however, I stop short. It is not my morning gown waiting for me, but a promenade dress. It takes all my effort to bite back a groan.

"Am I not to enjoy my breakfast in peace?"

"Sorry, Miss. The house is to be full today. After breaking your fast, you are all set to peruse Hyde Park."

I stop short as I bring my mug of warmed chocolate to my lips. "Full?"

"Unfortunately, Miss." My friend and maid winks at me as she flits about the room. "I know your love of people early in the morning. Apparently, you are to be making the acquaintance of several of your intended's friends and their lovely wives."

"The man is insufferable," I mutter under my breath, easing down into the chair.

"I suppose all dukes have a bit of peculiarity around them."

"Isn't that the truth."

"Are you still in pain, Miss? Your movements are still ginger and not with the ease I normally see you."

Inwardly, I scowl. Blast. I thought I was doing well with hiding my current predicament. "Do not worry about me. It's just the morning. I'll be better as the day tarries."

"Or," she bends low, winking. "You could be indisposed? Unable to face the crowds threatening to gather?"

And risk further punishment? I think not. Shaking my head, I give her hand a pat. "If my intended thinks it's time for me to meet his friends, then I suppose I must," I say out loud.

"I know of a few of them from the other maids. They certainly seem like a nice lot. Peculiar, but nice."

"As you said, most dukes are. I can only imagine their duchesses would need to be equally so to match them."

The dining room bustles about with so many people gathered within. Soft laughs and deep chuckles spill out of the door, making my heart pound. They sound like they're all having the grandest of times.

Looking toward the front of the house, my heart sinks. If only Greyson were here. Though we sent correspondence as soon as the next day, I've still not heard word or even seen the man. I can only hope he's not angry with me. I didn't see what Portswell sent him, but I hope he was kind in his assessment.

"Come now, child," Aunt Amelia cries out as she hobbles down the stairs. "Into the fray. We mustn't tarry."

With a smile, I pull her to the side, waiting for a moment. "Has Greyson responded?"

A small bit of the happiness fades in her eyes. "Not that I've seen, child."

"But the wedding is tomorrow. I suppose we can delay-"

"We will do nothing of the sort," Portswell booms out from next to me. At his closeness, I jump, my fingers fluttering over my heart. "Well met, my future bride. Are your nerves a bit unsteady today?"

I resist the urge to glare at him in front of my aunt, who gazes upon him like some besotted calf. "A lady so close to her wedding day would no doubt be a bundle of nerves."

"Fear not. I have sent my best riders to hunt your brother down. I will do my best to make sure he is in attendance."

"Such a kind man," Aunt Amelia cries, her eyes lighting up again. "I do so enjoy knowing that we are to have such a lad in the family."

He turns to me with a smirk and draws up my hand, lowering his lips until they hover over the skin. "And you, my bride? Do you agree with her assessment?"

Before I can answer, she jabs me in the ribs with her elbow. "But of course she does. How can she think anything different?"

"But of course," he echoes, a smile dancing in his eyes. "Come. Introductions need to be made."

When I come into the dining room, everything stops. So many strangers sit around my table. The dukes, I know through their status and the interactions with my brother, but I never made the time or effort to get to know them on a friendly basis. There were always other enticing things to do than to listen to talks of parliament and how Alphas are the best gift to the world.

The women I know even less about. Besides Miss Campbell, I've only met the others in passing. Since they were quick to be snatched off the marriage mart and off to their honeymoons, I've not had time to properly make their acquaintances. They seem nice enough, however, so maybe this will be a good thing.

The men all rise, their smiles easy and gentle, as if they know they possess the power to drive fear into anyone's hearts, but they refuse. In their eyes, however, I can see the harsh ruthlessness reflected. Much like the hunger in Portswell's gaze. As the man guides me further inside, I resist the urge to shiver under their dark scrutiny.

"Let's see," Portswell begins. "You should be familiar with all of us, but just in case, I suppose I should start from the left side of the table and work my way around. You already know Whiteport, Norhaven, and Miss Cynthia Campbell." The three nod their heads as the two dukes sit down.

"Next to her is Her Grace, the Duchess of Foxford and His Grace, the Duke of Foxford."

The woman's blue eyes sparkle as she nods to me. Her husband, on the other hand, seems to appraise my value as his gaze travels up and down my body before nodding and sitting.

"Next to them are Her Grace, the Duchess of Birchleigh and His Grace, the Duke of Birchleigh."

"Well met!" The woman cries, earning a scowl from her husband.

"Next to them are Her Grace, the Duchess of Blackport and His Grace, the Duke of Blackport."

The woman gives me a shy smile and bows her head, looking every inch the demure, refined woman I long to be. Next to her, the duke wraps his hand around her shoulder and squeezes, as if shoring up his wife's defenses. Out of all the couples so far, they seem the most attuned to each other."

"Of course, you know the Duke of Redleigh. He is joined by his ward, Miss Alessandra Cappelli and her guardian, Miss Selina Andrews. This is Miss Augusta Hunt."

From around the room, they all murmur their greetings.

Cynthia pipes up from her side. "The triplets longed to come and see you again, but apparently they've been remiss in their studies."

"Quite so," Whiteport grinds out, glaring at the omega. "Seems as if they've found better company with you than with their books and instructors."

"Is that why you're here with us today, Miss Campbell?" I tease, warming up to the one friend I have in the room. "Because they would not get any work done otherwise?"

Her gaze flits over to Norhaven for a brief second before giving a dazzling smile. "Of course. I figure we can get into enough mischief of our own."

Next to her, Norhaven rubs the bridge of his nose, but wisely stays silent. Miss Campbell and I exchange a small smile and knowing glance before she goes back to buttering her bread.

"I thank you all for coming to my home. I fear my brother is still away. But it is nice to have his friends in his stead to make our wedding perfect."

From around the table, silverware plops against dishes as faces turn toward us in shock.

"Wedding?" Blackport cries, dropping his napkin to the table. "When were you going to tell us?"

Portswell slides his glance over to me and glares. "I was going to bring you all up to speed as we traversed Hyde Park, but it seems as if my intended has taken that from me."

Unease slides down my spine as I take in all the expressions. From those who already know, they lean back and smile with a smug, haughty attitude. The women study me, their expressions puzzled as they try to figure me out. The other Dukes, however, glance between the two of us with open hostility.

"F- forgive me. I- I thought you already knew. I thought that was why you were in attendance." I glance over at Portswell before continuing. They already know, so it can't hurt to reveal the rest. "It's tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" they cry out loud in a single voice.

"And the reason for such a hasty union?" Foxford snarls, his glare leveled at Portswell.

"We're madly in love," he proclaims, wrapping his arm around my waist.

The others must know just how tightly he holds me and the way his fingers dig into my side. I do my best to smile and mimic his stance, hoping to be in accord with him.

"Yes," I mutter. "When he proposed, I couldn't help but say yes. It is a love match. Truly."

"I don't buy into this farce for one second," Foxford exclaims, tossing down his napkin and rising to his full height. "I know you, Portswell, some bright-faced girl is not who you'd drag down the aisle."

"Please love," his wife murmurs, throwing me a kind smile. "You are scaring the girl."

He looks over at me and his entire demeanor changes. "Forgive me, Miss Hunt. I sometimes forget how overbearing an Alpha can be." As he finishes his sentence, he glares again at Portswell.

"Please," I cry out. "Do not be cross with your friend. It is probably true what you say. I don't think he would have taken another look at me. But do believe that I cherish him with all my heart and go into this wedding happily."

The other Alphas look at him, their expressions unreadable.

"Please," he groans out, running his free hand down his face before shaking his head at me. "Don't help me."