Free Deeply In You by Sharon Page Page B

watched Greybrooke put his arm around her. It felt suspiciously like jealousy. Which was foolish! The duke caught her eye and winked again.
    She couldn’t even tell Ellie to leave. No normal male would unseat a beautiful, voluptuous young woman from his lap.
    Viscount Deverell began the game. Helena peered around Ellie, who kept jiggling in the most distracting way. It was awkward, but she was determined not to give the duke the satisfaction of seeing her shocked. She tried to play her cards coolly, except she couldn’t even see them for Ellie’s jutting bosom. She threw down a diamond instead of a heart, costing them the point.
    Greybrooke cleared his throat.
    “Ellie, my cousin has never fondled a woman’s nipple. Perhaps you should tutor him in what you like.”
    Ellie obeyed at once, and the girl dragged Helena’s hand to her breast again. A firm point of a nipple jabbed against Helena’s palm.
    Her head was swimming with the embarrassment and scandal of this. Oh, Greybrooke, she thought, I will get my revenge on you.
    It took all the daring she had in the world, but she bent over and quickly put her lips to the swell of Ellie’s breasts. The girl squealed with delight.
    Greybrooke’s cards shot out of his hands and landed on the table. “Damnation,” he muttered. He gathered up the cards and the viscount dealt again.
    She squeezed Ellie’s right breast the next time, stroking the pert nipple through the girl’s dress, and Greybrooke played like a man with no wits. They lost three games in a row.
    This time she smirked at Greybrooke.
    His gorgeous green eyes narrowed. He paid no attention to the woman on his lap. His gaze was fixed on her—not even on Ellie, but on her. He watched her every movement.
    Winning at this game of revenge gave her confidence. She played much more brilliantly, and she and the duke won again. It was a true battle now—she was matching wits with the duke. She watched his every move. Now she realized he was giving signals. A quirk of his brow, a twitch of his lip, the way his fingers rested against the back of his cards. She could tell, without words, exactly what he was thinking. Finally she played a card, and Greybrooke drawled, “I believe that’s it. The match is ours.”
    Ellie squealed and clapped her hands. “Now, then, you can come upstairs with me!”
    “Upstairs?” Helena echoed.
    “To one of the bedrooms.”
    “Not now, I’m afraid.” Her voice came out far too high and squeaky. She coughed and tried again. “His Grace is going to . . .” She searched desperately. “Introduce me to hazard.”
    But Ellie was not giving up easily. The huge breasts slammed hard against Helena’s flattened chest. Puckered lips pressed hard against hers, and Ellie—sighing, moaning, and wiggling her tongue—kissed her passionately.
    She sat, stunned, while Ellie’s tongue slid between her lips and the girl gave her a wet, shocking, open-mouthed kiss.
    Her first kiss. And it was with a woman who thought she was a man.
    It was a scorching kiss, but she wished, madly, it was the duke kissing her.
    “Very persuasive, Ellie,” Greybrooke drawled. “I’m sure you’ll coax young George into bed.”
    That brought her to her senses. Helena put her hands on the girl’s shoulders and firmly propelled her back, breaking the molten contact between their mouths.
    Gruffly she said, “Not tonight.”
    “Oh, gentlemen never want to kiss!” Ellie pouted. She flounced on Helena’s lap, crossing her arms across her chest, sticking out her lip.
    “Dramatics will not get you your way—” Helena broke off. She’d sounded far too much like a governess. She threw a withering glare at the duke. Mouthed, You are in trouble.
    Greybrooke leaned back in his seat, trying to look innocent—he was the most disobedient boy in a man’s body she’d ever encountered. Then he cupped his hand against his courtesan’s ear and whispered something to her. The girl pouted, but she got off his lap, then