At the Duke's Service

By: Carole Mortimer


Alexander raised his head to look at her as he slowly slid his fingers from inside her. Immediately he knew he wanted to give her that pleasure again.

He grasped her hand in his as he led her over to the rug in front of the unlit fireplace, laying her down upon its softness, before spreading her legs wide so that he might kneel between them. He thought how beautiful she looked as he lowered his head to rasp the heat of his tongue over the still-swollen place between her thighs, and began to rouse her once more.

Angelina cried out as Alexander’s hands moved upward, over her stomach, to cup both her breasts, fingers caressing and lightly pinching her nipples as his tongue pressed against with ever-increasing urgency.

She could feel the rising of her second release as the pleasure became almost unbearable and she arched up into him. Her breathing became shallow as that pleasure centered, pooled, at the place Alexander stroked so rhythmically with his tongue. Higher, and still higher, that pleasure rose, until Angelina felt as if she might shatter into a millions pieces.

“Oh, Xander, please,” she choked, her fingers becoming entangled in the dark thickness of his hair as she pressed him harder against her. “Please…!”

One of his hands released her breast to once again seek out the throbbing nub hidden in her curls, stroking harder, and then harder still, as his tongue thrust deep inside her, over and over again.

Angel almost sat up as she cried out in ecstasy, her body meeting Alexander’s thrusts as her climax flowed through her, before she fell back, her breathing labored and rasping.

Alexander moved slowly up the length of her body to lie beside her, his head against her breast as his hand moved to curve about its twin, fingers lightly teasing the erectness of her nipple.

Alexander found himself thinking of numerous—no, dozens!—of ways in which he wished to make love with and to Angel. Again. And again.

But where? When? Did he make Angel his mistress, after all? No! He could not—would not—do that to this warmly giving and beautiful woman. What to do with her, then? How could he keep her in his life and at the same not be her ruination? What—

“The reality is much more…exciting than the theory, is it not, Xander?” Angel breathed happily at his side. “It was truly a—a wondrous experience!”

He laughed softly, forgetting the future for the moment. Time enough to decide upon that later. For now it was enough that he held this enchanting creature in his arms. “It was indeed,” he assured warmly. “In fact, I have become quite taken with the teachings of your Miss Bristow!”

“Did I do everything correctly, Xander?” Angelina prompted softly.

“Everything!” he assured her with a self-derisive chuckle, as he recalled how completely he had been undone as Angel had kissed and caressed him with her own unique blend of innocence and seduction.

Angelina’s face glowed, her eyes shining with emotion. “I am so very glad that I pleased you, Xander.”

If Alexander had been any more “pleased” he may have expired completely! As it was, he still could not believe the intimacies he had shared with this young lady. He had never, ever allowed himself release in a woman’s mouth before. He had not “allowed” it this time, either, he recalled ruefully; his arousal, the excitement of Angel’s mouth and hands upon him, had been such that he had simply been unable to prevent it!

Still, indulging in such licentious behavior in his own home had been both rash and impulsive. Anyone might have found them together—

“Stourbridge!” The loud and imperious barking of his name reverberated through the house.

“Oh, God, no…!” Alexander gasped in protest as he turned to stare toward the locked dining room door.

“What is it?” Angelina looked up at him in concern.

“Not what, Angel, but who!” Alexander corrected harshly as he rose hastily to his feet and began to pull on his clothes.

“Who, then?” Angelina prompted as she less hurriedly got to her feet.

He fastened his breeches before answering her. “It would seem that my aunt Elizabeth has indeed returned to town and decided to pay me a visit…!”





Chapter Seven




“Sit up straight and do not fidget, Angelina.” Lady Elizabeth Montague instructed brusquely but not unkindly as the two women sat together in the elegance of her town house drawing room, awaiting the arrival of afternoon visitors.

Angel instantly stilled in rearranging the folds of her cream gown, still somewhat at a loss to know how it was she came to be in residence at Lady Montague’s home at all.

The elderly lady had swept into the dining room at St. Claire House the evening before, having been informed by not one acquaintance but several that the Duke of Stourbridge had been seen in his carriage that very morning with a young, unmarried female at his side. An occurrence that she had felt the need to look into personally. “Being seen with a female and having that female stay in his home unaccompanied,” Alexander had been informed disgustedly, “were two completely different things!”

Having taken in the intimacy of their situation at a glance—how could she not when Alexander had only had time to hastily don his shirt and breeches, and Angelina’s own appearance showed signs of their lovemaking in the untidiness of her hair and lips swollen from the force of Alexander’s kisses!—she had ordered Angelina to collect her things immediately as she would be returning home with her instantly.

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