Page 36 of Duke of Rath

“That can’t be true,” she said. “You’re staring at my behind!”

She couldn’t believe it. How could a man like him truly consider a country girl like her—who had never attended a ball, never had a finishing governess…or any governess at all—as the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen?

Surely not.

Then she felt his hand on her skin—his left hand, touching her directly. His caress was feather-light, yet it made her jerk as if scalded. A myriad of sensations, like starlight, shot through her. He began kneading and massaging her behind, murmuring things she never imagined a man would whisper to her.

“Beautiful.”

“Soft.”

“Sweet.”

So far, everything had been delightfully pleasant, sparking a warm, simmering sensation in her core that tightened with a growing need. She wriggled in desire for more, craving his fingers and hands all over her.

She moaned.

He cursed. “Make more sounds like that and I won’t be able to resist.”

“Resist what?” she asked.

“What I’ve wanted to do since the moment I saw you in the church.”

“And what is that?”

He growled and gave her a smack on the bottom, and she whimpered as an intense stinging shot through her. It was almost painful but also exquisitely pleasurable—a sensation she’d never felt before. Her sex grew even tighter and hotter.

“More, Duchess?” he asked.

“Uh…” She swallowed, trying to understand what just happened.

On the one hand, someone had hit her. And only her sisters had hit her when they were children and didn’t know better.

But this didn’t feel like violence.

It felt playful, like she was the center of his focused attention.

And it sent so much pleasure through her core, she couldn’t even say what was happening to her.

She swallowed. “More.”

He chuckled and smacked her behind again, a little stronger this time. It stung even more, like a slap of water when one jumped into a pond.

Exhilarating. And, even stronger now, she felt more beautiful sensations course down into her sex.

“More,” she managed.

He fell into a rhythm, the light slap of his hand on her flesh bringing a waterfall of sensations, biting and burning, warm and wonderful, and delicious, and sweet. And she couldn’t stop herself. She arched her back like a cat and gave him her behind, wanting more of his hand. More of his touch.

The need to feel these intense feelings was scratching at her nerves. She’d smiled her whole life, put on a mask, turning away from the discomfort of sadness, of anger, of confusion.

She moaned, feeling positively like a cat. He cursed again and began smacking her a little harder.

She was panting, overwhelmed by the delicious blend of ecstasy and warmth flooding her senses. Each mild stinging sensation was followed by a profound heat that radiated throughout her entire pelvis.

Now, she couldn’t turn away from the darkness. The darkness came for her.

And, to her surprise, she didn’t want to run. These slaps of skin against skin, the stinging and the throbbing was like opening a window into the night and taking a lungful of fresh, wet air.