The Duke's Gamble by Elyse Huntington Read Free Book Online Page A

pleasure had barely begun to abate when he drove two fingers into her sex. The pinch of pain to her tender flesh made her gasp, and then he was stroking that spot within her that had brought her so much pleasure in the past. But the sensations were amplified today, and her eyes opened wide as he deepened the caress of his fingertips against her inner wall.
    “Nooooo,” she panted, the pressure of his fingers against her full bladder sending panic streaking through her. Perspiration misted her skin and she shuddered violently, clenching around his fingers. “I can’t. You’re making me—”
    She thought for a moment that he didn’t hear her, as his fingers continued to press insistently against her. But then he removed his fingers and watched her as she slumped into the mattress with relief. It was not to last. He came up next to her, his mouth claiming hers in a deep kiss. He turned her to her side, his body behind her. Pushing her legs up, he gripped her hips and she felt the head of his cock press against her sex. With a groan, he sank his hard length into her.
    Her head jerked reflexively as pleasure and pain streaked between her thighs. Her sheath was still sore from his hard use last night, and it was only her juices easing his way that made his possession bearable. Her breath came in loud gasps as he drove into her tender sheath again and again. As he did, the head of his cock came into contact with the part of her sheath that he had earlier touched, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. Pleasure rebounded through every nerve in her body, drowning all but the vaguest hint of discomfort.
    Bella suddenly stiffened as her orgasm burst over her, making her womb contract as her inner muscles clamped down on his shaft. Castor growled low in his throat and then he was gripping her hips tight, pumping spurt after spurt of semen into her unresisting channel. After he withdrew from her, they lay there for a time, the silence broken by their harsh breaths.
    She was surprised when he got off the bed, and without speaking a word or looking at her, strode through the adjoining door to his bedroom. She waited for a while but when some time passed and he didn’t return, she started to berate herself for feeling hurt. Just because he had remained abed with her for the past two weeks didn’t mean that he had fallen in love with her. It was difficult, though, to convince herself that she was only a vessel for slaking his lust when he had even slept beside her on those few days when she had her monthly courses, instead of retiring to his bedchamber as she had expected.  
    She knew that he cared for her in his own fashion. He had spent every afternoon since her arrival in her company. They rode and went for long walks. Sometimes if he had a great deal of correspondence he would attend to this while she read on the chaise in his study. He was not a man of great conversation, nor did he exhibit a great deal of humour, but his dry wit and keen intelligence made it a pleasure to be in his company. Even the silences between them were rarely awkward.
    Everything she could have dreamed of wanting was hers for the asking. There were, of course, the gowns, hats, shoes and pelisses. She had free use of the music room which housed many instruments, including a magnificent Viennese pianoforte. She was pampered within an inch of her life, with two maids at her beck and call, arranging her hair in elaborate coiffures, offering her creams to rub into her skin, laying out gowns for her to choose each morning. The duke’s French chef prepared food that was as different from the food she was accustomed to, as night was from day. And then there were the books.  
    Anything she desired was fetched immediately.  
    Not that she asked for very much. In truth, she was mortified at the amount of attention that was being afforded her. She was nothing more than Castor’s temporary mistress, and the façade she presented as being fully comfortable in her