Sins of a Wicked Duke (The Penwich School for Virtuous Girls)
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She works to live . . .
One would think the last place a beauty like Fallon O'Rourke could keep her virtue was in the Mayfair mansion of London's most licentious duke, the notorious Dominic Hale. Yet Fallon—who's endured nothing but lecherous advances since her father's tragic death—is perfectly safe there . . . disguised as a footman! Beneath the notice of the dark-haired devil with his smoldering blue eyes and sinful smile, Fallon never imagines her secret will be discovered. But how long can her deception last when she begins to wish she is one of the many women traipsing in and out of the sinful rogue's bedchamber?
He lives to sin . . .
Most men envy the duke, never suspecting his pleasure-loving ways are a desperate attempt to escape, however briefly, the pain of a past that's left him with a heart of stone. Only one woman can break down his defenses. Only one woman can win his love . . . if she reveals her secret and succumbs to the sins of the wicked duke.
The wretch was incapable of feeling. One needed a heart for that and he clearly lacked such. He was a beautiful, shallow specimen. Nothing more. “You know what you need, Frank? ” She arched a brow. “You need to loosen those very proper morals of yours. ” He stroked a finger along his upper lip, considering her intently. She followed the movement of that finger along his lip, mesmerized. “I wager a proper frigging would set you to rights. ” Mouth dropping, her gaze snapped from his mouth to his eyes. He stared at her for a long moment, his expression mildly amused.
His jaw clenched. He wasn’t going, of course. His feelings on the matter had not changed since he last spoke with Meadows at his club. His feelings had not changed. But he had. The last weeks had altered him. He hardly slept, scarcely ate. His usual brandy held no appeal. Ethan had stopped by and tried to coax him out of his melancholy. Dominic had spent the entire time quizzing him on Fallon, trying to discover the location of her long-sought home. All to no avail. If she wants you to know, she will contact you.
She required a roof over her head tonight. She couldn’t afford to be choosey. Moments later she sat in the spacious kitchen, a plate of biscuits before her and the oddest-looking butler she’d ever clapped eyes on interviewing her for the position of footman. Fallon had worked in enough households to form certain expectations. One of which included butlers looking…well, butlerish. But should she feel any surprise? His master hardly seemed concerned with propriety. Like many an aristocrat who believed himself above reproach for no other reason than the position granted him at birth.
He awarded her the barest movement, grinding himself in little circles inside her, rubbing the sensitive little nub. She broke free of his lips, hissing her need with a sharp cry. She lifted her calves and locked her ankles around his hips. “Please,” she begged, rocking against him. His eyes stared down at her, silvery as the moonlight streaming from the window far above. With a knowledge she did not know she possessed, she clenched her inner muscles around him in repeated clutches. Moaning, he dropped his head to the crook of her neck and began moving.
Her features had been too strong, her jaw a bit too square. Evelyn cocked her head to the left side, her expression thoughtful. “Still, you are a pretty man. ” “I’ve seen pretty men before. ” Fallon nodded, whether to convince herself or Evie, she couldn’t say. Half the men about town aspired to look as she did—a veritable dandy. The ones who gave her grief over the past two years had certainly been prettier than herself. For some reason, the Duke of Damon’s face floated before her. Definitely not a dandy.