Page 45 of Kathryn

She slowly raised the hem up to her knees.

He closed his hands over her ankles and opened her legs.

“What are you doing?” She pulled her thighs back together—or trying to—but his hands were like hot, unyielding shackles.

Dulverton frowned. “How is it that you do not know what I am doing? You said you fornicated with your aunt’s footman.”

Katie gritted her teeth at the word fornicated. “I know about—about coitus. I just do not understand how you are going about it.” Face flaming, Katie cut a pointed look at the front of his pantaloons, where the stretchy weave of the fabric did nothing to hide the long, thick ridge of his arousal. “You are still clothed, Your Grace.”

His eyelids drooped and one corner of his stern mouth twitched. On anyone else, Katie would not have noticed such a slight change of expression, but on Dulverton it was the equivalent of a face-splitting grin.

“Do you find something funny, Your Grace?”

“No.”

Katie saw nothing to indicate amusement in his opaque gaze; she must have been mistaken. Of course she had. The Duke of Dulverton didn’t know how to smile. Certainly not when—

“I am going to spread your legs” His voice was quieter, almost gentle, and nothing like his normally cool, clipped tone. Katie looked down the length of her body to where his warm, strong fingers stroked the thin skin of her ankles. There was something about the ropy blue veins on the back of his hands that made her pulse pound.

She knew he was waiting for some response from her, so she nodded.

Dulverton moved her feet until they were shoulder-width apart and this time Katie did not struggle against him. Her heart thud thud thudded like a blacksmith’s hammer against her ribs as he caressed up her calves, the slightly roughened pads of his fingers leaving goose pimples in their wake.

“Lift your gown higher.”

The air was suddenly thinner, and even breathing through her mouth Katie could not fill her lungs. This was not what she remembered with Jasper. He had never looked at her the way Dulverton was looking at her—as if he wanted to consume her—nor had he—

“Kathryn.”

The sound of her name pulled her from her daze, and she reached with shaky fingers for the fine muslin and lifted it higher. His pupils flared to life and an expression of such hungry anticipation settled on his harsh features that Katie could not bring herself to care how exposed she was.

He made a low rumbling sound of approval. “You are perfect.” His praise played havoc with her already thundering heart and made the muscles in her sex clench and send shivers of pleasure through her body.

Dulverton lowered to his elbows, his face close enough to her mound that she felt his hot breath on her skin.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she asked shrilly.

“I am readying you.”

Katie made a mortifying squeaking sound when he gently parted her netherlips, his eyelids lowering as he studied her.

“You are so wet,” he marveled, briefly looking at her face before lowering his blazing gaze.

She opened her mouth to say something—because… shouldn’t she? Shouldn’t she tell him to stop messing about down there?

Katie was still working up her nerve when he suddenly lowered his head and closed his lips around the source of her pleasure.

“Oh, Dulverton,” Katie mumbled in a croaky voice as her suddenly boneless elbows slid out from under her, and her eyes rolled back in her head.

***

Gerrit heard his name and then nothing except a great deal of moaning and gasping.

As shocked as Kathryn had first appeared, she had not told him to stop. His cock throbbed with possessive pleasure at the knowledge that Kathryn’s footman lover had not done this one thing for her. At least in this way, Gerrit would be her first.

Encouraged by the noises she was making, he slid his arms around her silky thighs and spread her wider, settling more comfortably so he could relax and enjoy himself. Her needy whimpers quickly turned to earthy groans and her hips bucked as she chased his tongue. Gerrit was tempted to give her what she needed, but sex was one of the few times he engaged in physical contact with another person, and he was in no hurry to end the rare pleasure.

The sight of his proud, combative wife turning into his writhing, begging bed-slave made his own aching need an exquisite agony. But Gerrit could wait. Waiting would only make his release that much sweeter.