The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(32)

“Now, where were we?” he murmured.

I don’t know about you, but I’m stuck on that idiot on the other side of the fountain.

The truth was not just annoying, it was mortifying. Why was she setting her cap for a man who didn’t want her? Why was she setting herself up for more rejection? Hadn’t she suffered enough from her father, her grandfather, and even those blasted twits at Southbridge’s?

Ransom reached out, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Ah, yes, I believe I was about to demonstrate some of the advantages of being my duchess.”

She saw his intent, and a desperate notion struck her. Maybe the reason she was hooked on Bennett was because he was the first man to kiss her. Maybe if she kissed another man, she’d find it just as earth-shattering.

Maybe if I kiss the one in front of me, I’ll realize there’s nothing special about Bennett…

She held still as Ransom’s face came closer. He was a rake, so if anyone knew how to kiss, it ought to be him. Seeing the practiced smolder in his half-lidded eyes, she had to quell a sudden, inappropriate urge to laugh. His lips touched hers: the kiss was refined, smooth, skilled. It was pleasant…and as exciting as tepid tea.

Drat and double drat.

A sudden blast jerked her head back. The next instant, icy water rushed over her.

She gasped, and Ransom sprang away from her, shouting, “What the devil?”

Tessa stared at the fountain: the top had…blown off? Pieces of the stone pineapple littered the fountain’s basin. Instead of a sedate trickle, water was spraying everywhere, soaking both her and Ransom. With a squeak, she jumped back just in time to avoid another dousing.

“Put this on.” Bennett appeared by her side. Yanking off Ransom’s sodden coat and tossing it aside, he replaced it with his own. The sturdy wool was dry and warm.

Cocooned in his heat and scent, she sputtered, “Wh-what happened?”

“It appears that the fountain malfunctioned,” he said.

His tone was bland. Too bland. Before she could question him, she sneezed.

In the background, Ransom cursed as he emptied water from his shoes.

“His Grace will be awhile.” Taking her arm, Bennett steered her toward the house. “Let’s get you inside before you encounter any other mishaps.”





11





“You’ve been a naughty miss,” he told her.

Tessa sat in front of him, perched on his desk, her plump mouth sulky and eyes inviting. With her legs crossed, one hand leaning insolently on the blotter, she said, “Then why don’t you teach me a lesson…Professor?”

The sparkling challenge in her eyes moved him into action. Rising from his chair, he stripped her layers until she was bared to him. All the while, she watched him, lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded. He laid her against the desk, his cock swelling as he took in the erotic contrast between her snowy skin and the dark wood.

“Be a good girl, and don’t move,” he told her.

For once, she obeyed him. He rewarded her acquiescence by tasting her…everywhere. Her plush mouth, the plump lobe of her ear, her impudent little nipples. He left no inch of her silken loveliness unexplored. She sighed as he trailed his tongue down the shallow valley between her tits, over her white, quivering belly. His hands clamped on her sleek thighs, spreading them wide.

The sight of her pussy made his rod jerk, preseed wetting the head. Parting her silky nest, he ran a finger along her exposed pink slit, and satisfaction rolled through him.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he murmured. “Do you like me petting your pussy?”

“Yes.” Her eyes were smoky green with desire. “Do it some more.”

“Ask me nicely.”

“Please,” she said, pouting.

“Please what?”

Her bottom lip caught beneath her teeth. “Please pet my pussy?”

A request he wasn’t about to deny. He caressed her slick folds, his breath coming harshly as her honey dripped over his fingers. When her hips arched into his touch, her head moving restlessly on the desk, he knew she was close. Knew how to take her over. Lifting her thighs over his shoulders, he bent to taste her sweetness.

A shocked moan broke from her as he ate her pussy. Her slender thighs tensed around his head, and he kept at it, licking her until her wanton pleas filled the room. Oh yes, Professor, please…

He found her pearl, sucking it at the same time that he eased his middle finger into her untried passage. God, she was small and tight. Heat roiled in his balls as her virginal cunny squeezed him. She cried out, and he groaned as his own climax came roaring over him…

Harry awoke with a start. He was in bed, naked, his chest heaving. The sheet was tangled at his waist, tented by his enormous erection. He was rock-hard, pulsing, his cockhead weeping in anticipation.

He itched to finish himself off.

Instead, he raked both hands through his hair and stared up into the darkness.

What the hell am I doing?

Things were getting out of hand. First, he’d lost control kissing Tessa, then he’d rigged the fountain to prevent the duke from kissing her, and now he was having an erotic dream about her. A dream that had felt so real the scent and taste of her still lingered, making his gut clench with hunger.

Even Celeste hadn’t managed to rouse such an intensity of feeling, not that she hadn’t tried. She’d pitted him and her other suitors against one another, using jealousy to control them. As besotted as Harry had been, he’d seen through that particular ploy and refused to play her game.