Page 21 of In Service to the Duke

He stands before me in just his shirt and cravat. When he goes to undo the scrap of fabric, my body vibrates as my core clenches. That can only mean one thing. He’s planning on taking me in hand again.

It shouldn’t cause me such immense joy to know he’s going to cause me discomfort. Perhaps I really should go to Bedlam if this is how I’m deriving my pleasure. But as these thoughts swirl in my head, Blackport scents the air, his eyes darkening as if he understands the tenor of my thoughts.

“You seem to have a lot on your mind. Care to share with me?” He seems genuinely curious, and that does more for me than the carefree smirk tilting up his lips.

“I am just confused. That is all.”

With a jerk, he tugs the cravat off and lays it on top of the footboard along with the rope. Perhaps I’ve misunderstood everything, and he’s not planning on gagging me again after all. That, or he wants to hear how insane I am first so he can have me cast aside.

“I am sure you are. Not many girls find themselves down here in my pleasure dungeon. No innocent ones, at least.”

“Pleasure dungeon? You mean to say happiness can be found here? But it looks so… so…”

“Torturous?” He supplies, a light chuckle on his lips. “An apt description. But I can assure you, even if you were to find these items in the London Tower, the purpose I use them for is vastly different.”

“And what use do you have if not to torture me?” A niggle of unease slides through my veins, gluing me to the spot.

Not once in all of this did I ever think anything ill of Blackport. Yes, he could be quite disagreeable, but my mind never turned toward torture. Does he mean to do away with me in a far more permanent manner?

He leans over and grazes my ankle with his fingers. On instinct, I jerk back, my need for self-preservation outweighing logical thought. With a heavy sigh, he grabs my limb and wrenches forward before grabbing a bit of rope.

“I can smell your fear. Trust me. The type of torture I have planned is not what your mind is concocting. Nothing I do will harm you. Of that, you can be certain.”

“And if I say no?” My lips tremble as the softly spoken query flits into the air.

“Well, my dear governess,” he grumbles, tightening the rope around my ankle before sliding the strands through a ring. “I would say we are far past that. Refuse me all you wish, but you’ve entered my sacred space without permission. You’ve thrown yourself into my bed, and now I will have my retribution.”

He tugs on the ankle, making sure it can’t move before going to the other. Sliding it over, he spreads me apart, leaving everything bare to his gaze. Fear zips down my spine, jolting my mind into gear. Striking out with my foot, I do my best to kick him off, but he’s far too strong.

As if my struggles are inconsequential, no more than a mere bug attempting to bite him, he grabs my ankle and holds firm. Desperate, I take the crops and throw them at him one by one. He ducks to the side, and they clatter to the floor.

The roar erupting from his throat is loud and ferocious. It pins me to the bed just as effectively as if his bulk holds me there. I cannot move, cannot speak, and cannot breathe. Ice and heat flow over my body, rippling over me like waves crashing over my head, threatening to drown me.

I’ve heard tales of an Alpha’s roar, but seeing as my father was a beta, I’ve never experienced it. For the first time, I feel small and inconsequential. I am nothing and no one. Heat rakes down my back like fiery nails scoring my skin.

Though I long to cry out, my voice continues to elude me. Eventually, the incessant noise stops, allowing me to suck in a large gulp of air. In my delirium, he grabs my ankle again and straps it down, rendering my legs useless… not that they were all that effective beforehand.

Grabbing the cravat, he storms over, his massive frame looming over me. Again, I bite down on my lips, not wishing to be impotent again. Instead of prying my mouth open as I expected, he grabs my wrists and ties them together, using the cravat to bind them.

With a strong jerk, he forces them high above my head, looping the fabric onto a hook. Yet one more thing I didn’t notice until this moment. Soft whimpers claw at my throat as I twist about, finding myself helpless and at his mercy.

“I’ll scream,” I manage to croak.

“You may do so at your leisure,” he growls. “Scream for me, little governess.”

CHAPTER 10

ROBERT

I peer down into those wide eyes, nearly the color of burnt umber in the flickering fire light. If I’m not careful, I can lose myself in those depths. Even now, I have to stay my hand, forcing myself not to touch her.

Glancing lower, I take in her pussy lips glistening with slick. Such a conundrum. Though she’s practically dripping for me, she doesn’t seem to understand her reactions. It’s honestly so refreshing seeing her blink up at me without guile.

Delilah never hid the fact that she played a farce. It was a game between us, a lark for her to act as if she were the innocent maid terrified of me defiling her. But the apprehension rolling off of Miss Gillet is all too real.

It peppers the air, like an acrid spice to her sugary, decadent scent. Such a combination is heady, threatening me to take leave of my mind and fuck her senseless. How can I refuse when her body begs me so sweetly for release?

Gripping my hands onto the footboard, I take in measured breaths, forcing my ardor to calm. “Know this, Miss Gillet. I will tease you. I will make you squirm and beg for things beyond your understanding. But the thing I will not do is claim your virginal innocence. That is not mine to take. Trust me. I will be taking every other liberty you own, and you will thank me and cry out for more.”