Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

AUGUSTA

I pace the hallway as I study the menu. Not that I can make any changes to it now. Still though, until this very moment, I didn't realize just how much pressure it would be to serve the dukes and duchesses dinner. Aunt Amelia usually handled all those types of things.

Blast Portswell and his insistence that I take the lead. But then, it makes sense. I am soon to be his wife, Duchess of Portswell. I'll need to know how to do these things.

My heart pounds in my chest as I drop to sit on the stairs. Shocked, my aunt fusses over me, asking if I'm in need of a doctor. No, blast it all. I'm not in need of a doctor. At least, I don't think a doctor can assist what truly ails me.

Portswell strides into the area and looks at me, his eyebrow raising as he drops to his knee. "You seem rather pale."

"Pale?" I spit out. "Pale? That's all you can say?"

Next to me, Aunt Amelia wrings her hands and looks between the two of us. "Now, dear, the good duke-"

"Oh, I know what he's on about," I snap out, my nerves finally reaching the end point.

"Do you now?" he buts in, his voice all dark and gruff, and simply divine. "And I simply wanted to give you the opportunity to play the duchess before we say, 'I do.'" The way his tongue lingers on the word play sends shivers of need up and down my spine.

Can someone expire from having their carnal needs so denied? I've not heard of such, but then, it's untoward to look into such matters. My fingers tremble as I do my best to catch my breath.

Any words being spoken sound muffled, as if hearing them from under water. It's not until Portswell grabs my arm and helps me up that I realize he's even talking to me.

"Do you need to lie down? You really don't look well, my dear. Perhaps a bit of dark and cool rag before the others arrive will set you to rights."

His tone brooks no argument. No doubt the cad wishes to see me in private and address my outburst where he can punish me again. My core tightens as arousal creams my inner thighs. His nostrils flair for a moment before he pulls away. The bastard certainly knows what effect he's having on me.

"Yes," Aunt Amelia agrees, shooing me up the stairs. "I'll send your lady's maid anon."

"No need. I can manage a cool rag on my own. I simply wish for a moment of peace and quiet."

"Very well. I'll send someone to fetch you when it is time to greet your guests."

Mumbling my thanks and excuses, I go up the stairs, feeling the heat of Portswell's gaze upon me. As I turn onto the landing, I hear him make his excuses as well. Just as I thought.

As much as I want to crawl into bed and hide away from everything, I know I have to face him. Minutes tick by, and eventually, he slips in through the secret entrance.

"Is your door secured?"

"As it is always."

"Good. Now, care to tell me what these outbursts are about? Are your stays too tight? Can you not get a full breath?"

"No, Your Grace. It's not that. I… I…"

"You… You… Let me guess, you're beyond fractious and need a bit of assistance?"

"Please," I blurt out, keeping my voice low so as to not attract attention. "It's been so long since I've last had a release, and with each night you build the torment up so much more. I cannot take another minute."

"Oh?" He grins and slides his arm around my waist, pulling me forward. "You cannot take one more night? And here I thought you were far stronger than that."

I scowl at his obvious bait. "I might be able to if you weren't making it all worse."

"Really?" His voice drops an octave, sending a shudder through my body. "I'm making it worse? Shall I make it better then?"

My breath catches in my throat as I note the heat in his gaze. "You… You said."

"I know what I said. A man can have a change of heart, can't he? Besides, I can't have you all frenetic around my friends. They already suspect foul play between us. Lie down on the bed and spread your legs. I'll make you see heaven before dragging you into my lair of hell tomorrow night."

Even if I want to, I can't reject him. The need is far too great. Shame heats up my face as I lie back, letting my legs dangle off the bed. If only I wasn't such a wanton. If only I could resist him. If only… And yet, the moment his fingers skim my thighs, a soft moan escapes my lips.

"I'm still of a mind to not actually touch you until our wedding day, but I suppose you can touch yourself. Where is the dilator you've been using?"

The heat in my cheeks burns even hotter as I motion toward the privy. "It's wrapped in a dark cloth and wedged in the corner where none will easily spot it."

"When I come back, I expect your skirts to be lifted and your fingers spreading out your pretty pussy so I can gaze upon it."

"You wish to look at it? But why? Is it all that wondrous?"

He leans forward and winks before giving me a kiss that leaves me breathless. "Yours is the prettiest I've seen and the only one I wish to devour."

"Devour? That sounds… Well that sounds positively primal. You mean to eat my flesh?"

"Ahhh. Such innocence," he chuckles. "I guess you shall see on the morrow."

Without further elaborating, he heads into the privy, leaving me to obey him. My fingers fly over the fabrics as I lift and tug, pulling them out of the way. I slide up further onto the bed so I can plant my heels and spread my thighs, just as he commanded.

"So wet and needy, aren't you?" Portswell holds up the small vial of lubricant. "We won't be needing this, will we? Your sweet nectar is all that I require to ease this into your tight back hole."

His fingers skim my heated flesh, tormenting me all the more. "Please, Your Grace. Just relieve me already. I cannot stand any more of your teasing."

"Your body will take everything I give it and beg for more, is that clear? As my engaged, you belong to me. Your heart, your soul, and your body are mine to tease and torment as I see fit. But since you begged so nicely, I suppose I can give in."

With a soft groan, he takes the cold glass and slides it through my slick, heated flesh. The contrast feels divine. Tossing my head back, I let my legs fall open on either side, giving him easier access to my body. He twists and turns it, teasing my clit with each pass until the familiar coil thrums through my body.

"Please," I beg again. "I'm so close to releasing. Just a few more strokes and I'm done for."

"In that case, let's see how well you can obey me. Either way, you will get your release, so have no fear of that." He pulls the glass away and notches the tip at my back entrance. More arousal gathers and slides down, coating his hand. "Such a good little anal whore you are for me, aren't you? God, but you're practically dripping, and I haven't even impaled you yet."

The heat in my face grows worse at his praise. Should I take pleasure in his words? I cannot tell if he means them well or not.

When he pushes forward, however, all thoughts scatter as pleasure floods my system. Even when I do it to myself, it doesn't feel nearly as good. It must be the fact that I am giving into him and allowing him to touch me so that makes my insides twist and turn.

"That's my good girl," he rasps out. "You're taking it so well. I can't tell you how pleased I am with how much of this you can take. Your arsehole is just swallowing it up as if it were my member easing into you."

His words mean nothing to me, but his praise is like a balm to my soul. I can hear his admiration now as he stretches me wide. Knowing I please him makes something shift, something deep and fundamental.

I do want to please him. I want to be in his good graces and delight him. A duchess. His duchess. The thoughts flood my brain, all of them bouncing around like feral birds in search of a good puddle to frolic in. It's almost too much.

His hand rests on my thigh, grounding me, as the base of the dilator grazes my back hole.

"I need you to breathe for me, love. Think of nothing else but the sound of my voice."

"I- I'm trying."

"Here, allow me to assist." He walks over to where my head rests on the bed and loosens his cravat.

For some reason, just seeing that motion makes everything tingle with need. There's a gentle lethality to his movements, like a predator waiting for the first chance to pounce.

"Our time is drawing short," he murmurs as he wraps the fabric about my eyes, robbing me of my sight. "I hate that this interlude will be so swift. Once we're married, however, it will be far different from this. I promise you. Now, just listen to my voice."

Robbed of my sight, I find I'm able to concentrate fully on him. I hear his steps as he walks back toward the end of the bed. His breath comes in harsh grunts as he shifts about. Other sounds greet my ears, but I do not understand them. The rustling of fabric, perhaps?

"You're doing so good for me," he groans softly, his hot breath washing over my clit. "God, but I cannot wait to taste you. I bet you are just as divine as I imagine. Now stroke yourself. Touch your slickened flesh so that I may lap it off of your fingertips."

My body burns as I lower my hand, doing as he commands. I still feel his breath, hot and heavy against me. I touch myself, arching up as pleasure surges through my body. My back hole clenches around the thick girth of the dilator, flooding me with even more exquisite agony.

"Just like that. Touch your needy clit. Feel how firm it feels under your fingertips. How engorged you are."

His hand bumps against mine in rapid strokes, as if he's perhaps guiding me? But it's far too erratic for me to follow. Again, that familiar coiling rolls through me, making my body clench and tighten.

"Now stop."

I want to wail at his command. So close. So blasted close.

"Begin again."

It's as if I'm back at the beginning. Soon, my strokes bring me back to the pinnacle.

"Stop."

"Please," I sob. "I cannot take much more of this."

"I know, my darling," he grunts, his voice slightly strained. "Again."

Just as last time, the moment I get close enough, he commands me to stop. Tears slide down my cheeks and wet the cravat as frustration builds.

"I- I can't. I can't do this anymore."

"Yes, you can," he growls, the movements of his fingers rubbing against me harder and faster. "You can take this and so much more for me."

His hand yanks my fingers away and lifts them up. Soon, heat engulfs the slippery digits. His mouth. I can feel his tongue lapping against them as he sucks my arousal off. My core cramps with need at the intimate gesture.

"Again, and this time, don't stop until you've released."

Relief floods my veins as I stroke myself again, my arousal heightened even more by the soft grunts at the edge of the bed. It's as if Portswell seeks the same release I do. Knowing he derives such pleasure from seeing me spurs me forward.

"So close," I groan, my body straining as everything tightens.

"Good girl. Don't stop. Come for me. Let me see the beauty of your release."

At his last word, my body spasms as everything spins out of control. With my last shred of sanity, I grab the sheets and stuff them into my mouth so no one can hear me scream out in utter pleasure and relief. Unlike the other times, I don't pull away as soon as I'm done.

I continue to stroke myself, my body rippling as wave after wave washes over me, continually drowning me in endless pleasure. Somewhere in the haze, I'm mildly aware of Portswell's muttered oaths as something hot and sticky splashes onto my hand and drips down my body.

Harsh breaths fill the space as we both stay silent. No words can form. No prose can come to mind, save the gratitude hovering on my lips. I lie there, languid, as if I have no bones in my body to hold me up.

"Stay very still," he eventually whispers. "I shall attend to you then head back downstairs so you can straighten up and be prepared for the dinner."

Fluids continue to slide down my lower lips as I lay there. Such a curious thing. Never before has this happened, and I'm not entirely sure of the ramifications.

Soon, Portswell is back in the room. He drags a cool rag against my fevered flesh, cleaning me with a tenderness I didn't think possible from him. With gentle tugs, he eases the dilator from me before disappearing again.

This time, when he comes back, he removes the cravat from my eyes and smiles down at me. "Such a good little deviant duchess," he sighs, filling my heart with such joy. "And not just for how beautifully you came. The menu is perfect as well. You will make a wonderful bride for me. I'll see you downstairs after you dress for dinner. Your guests will be here shortly."

He slips through the secret entrance, leaving me alone in the room. My mind whirls as I try to come to terms with everything that has just happened, but my brain doesn't wish to think. All I want to do is lie back and luxuriate in the feelings fluttering through me.

As I study the clock, however, I know it will have to wait. Soon my maid will be here, and I don't wish to seem all that out of sorts.