At the Spanish Duke's Command by Fiona Hood-Stewart Page A

“Please don’t.” But he ignored her, and, just as before, lowered her to the couch, where he plundered, unable to resist the bewitching feel of her nipples rising to his command. The desire to assuage the delicious ache that he knew was mounting between her thighs was too much to ignore.
    Georgiana arched, her eyes closed. It was unbelievably magical. Nothing she had ever known could compare to the ecstasy she was experiencing. Then he moved his lips further, undid her jeans and lowered them. As she felt his tongue discovering her in ways she had not imagined existed, Georgiana stifled a cry of sheer delight. Then, still flicking his tongue on her, he brought her careering to the edge, and held his breath as she plunged headlong into a dizzy, ecstatic haze that left her limp and exhausted.
    â€œGeorgiana,” Juan whispered, holding her close and brushing the strands of golden hair from her face. “My beautiful linda Georgiana.”
    All at once his words sank home and she pulled away, righting her clothes and sitting up, horrified that she’d allowed him to have his way once again—and in broad daylight. What was the matter with her? Surely she knew he was only trifling with her?
    â€œJuan, leave me alone,” she said hoarsely. “This is dreadful. It’s sordid and degrading.”
    â€œYou didn’t appear to feel that way a few minutes ago,” he pointed out, rising and straightening his clothes.
    â€œYou’re right.” She looked him straight in the eye. “I should never have allowed you to do what you did. After all, it’s always the woman’s fault, isn’t it?”
    The ironic twist of her lips took him by surprise, and he stepped forward, horrified. Not only was he taking shameless advantage of this girl, but he was also deforming her view of life, of men.
    â€œI never meant to hurt you,” he said in a low, tense voice, his hands clenched as he paced the room.
    â€œDon’t worry—you haven’t,” she threw, trying to sound nonchalant as she passed her fingers through her hair and rose. “But I think even you will agree that after this it is better I go. How can I possibly be a bridesmaid to Leticia after this? The whole notion is horrible.”
    â€œYou cannot leave the house.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause I don’t want you to.”
    â€œFrankly, Juan, at this stage what you want or don’t want doesn’t enter the equation. We must do whatever it takes to stop this absurd set of circumstances. Or do you expect me to go on having secret trysts with you while your aunt drinks tea in the dining room?” she threw bitterly, making him realise once again how very badly he’d behaved.
    â€œI will stay away,” he said stiffly.
    â€œYou said that once before.”
    â€œThis time I mean it. You will not be compromised by my presence again.” With a small bow he turned on his heel and left the study, leaving Georgiana standing alone in the middle of the room seething, not knowing whether to be happy or sad.
    Furious, she picked up her books from the hall and left for class. She must end this now.
    On arrival in the Faculdad de Filosofia y Letras, where her course was taking place, Georgiana walked absently up the wide staircase to her classroom.
    â€œHey!” a voice called from above. She looked up to see Sven, a Swedish student to whom she’d talked severaltimes during breaks. “Hi, there,” he called, waiting for her to climb the rest of the steps.
    â€œHello.”
    â€œSo, where have you been? We wanted to invite you to go away with us this weekend.”
    â€œOh? Who’s ‘us’?” she asked, smiling. Sven was a tall and handsome young man whom all the girls on the course found devastatingly attractive. The first week she had too. Until a tall dark Spaniard had walked into her life, eclipsing every other man within