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juices.
    When
she finally steadied her breathing, he found himself pulling out his own
member. He stroked to the image of one very sated duchess, who would soon be
his in every possible way. Nathaniel closed his eyes, picturing her lips around
the crest of his cock, teasing his thickness while she squeezed his tight sac. God!
What you do to me…
    His
heart thundered in his ears as he pumped faster and faster. She was naked and
bathed in the moonlight, in the comfort of his chambers, whispering naughty
things and playing with her God-given assets. If there was ever a pair of tits
to be seen, hers should be modeled. An alabaster bust of envy, placed on
display in his dressing room, where only he could appreciate it.
    She
would play with her precious cunt, showing him what she could do to herself
while thinking of him. Her tiny, delicate fingers rubbing her clit and delving
them into her sticky wetness. She would then withdraw those same dangerous digits
and pop them into her mouth. She would suck one by one slowly, as she did with
his cock—being the relentless tease that he knew she was.
    His
body went rigid. Blindness struck him, and his breath escaped. “Isabel,” he
groaned, before exploding into his palm.
    He
waited for what seemed an eternity before opening his eyes, and his heart rate
restored to an even beat. Damn . He had never intended to subject Isabel
to a compromising situation. Nevertheless, he had enjoyed the pleasures given
and could not remember the last time he had taken his own pleasure, thoroughly
enjoying the vivid imagery he created.
    Surely,
now Isabel would see there would never be another. He would be the only one. Not
because of their indiscretion, but because of the power of their connection.
    Isabel was
blushing something fierce. “Guess I need to do something about this mess,”
Nathaniel declared. Before he could reach for his handkerchief, Isabel offered
hers. “Thank you, love. I suppose we should get you back to your friends before
they start to wonder where we have run off to.”
    Her
blue eyes fixed on his, soft and glowing. He had most certainly satisfied her,
but would it be enough? After helping her up, Nathaniel insisted on adjusting
her bodice, but she swatted his hand away.
    While
he did not know the first thing about fixing hair or gowns, his only concern
was to be supportive. His expertise was unraveling those tight and stern buns
women wore, until cascades of waves fell seductively around their breasts, and
efficiently removing evening dresses, so pleasure would be met with expediency.
    She
stood there, waiting for him to lead them out from their seclusion, but all
Nathaniel desired was to undo her gown again. “Well, darling, you do realize
that was only the beginning?” He took her arm and steered her back to the path,
when they were met by an unwelcome face. Stiffness settling in his neck and
shoulders, he released Isabel and clenched his fists at his sides.
    “Downsbury,
what are you doing here?” Nathaniel pulled her ladyship behind him. “I should
have known that a rat would eventually leave town.”
    The duke
regarded Nathaniel with even more disdain than the previous day. “I assure you,
Lord Stoughton, I came to take some air and get away from the tedium of daily
duties. What I did not expect was Brimley’s widow to be here of all places…much
less with you. I hope the risk was worth it, Your Grace.” He smirked. “Your
Grace, My Lord, excuse me. I have business to attend to.”
    Before
Nathaniel could reply, the duke rushed off to speak with a gentleman leaving
the park. He turned to Isabel. “I do not trust the man. He is up to something.
Let us go. I will return you to Mr. and Miss Turner, and we will depart shortly
after that for Bath.”

 
 
 
    Chapter
Three

 
    Isabel tucked her arm
into the warmth of her escort’s. Both she and Nathaniel quietly walked toward
the amphitheatre without as much as a word spoken. While
the consequences of their