Page 19 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke (Forbidden Lords #2)

Chapter Nineteen

T he ride home was tense and quiet, filled with thoughts Veronica did not voice.

Opposite her, the Duke did not regard her once, but instead, he kept his attention focused on the rolling landscape outside, cloaked in darkness. She went to comment on how fortunate they were to live rather near to Lindbury House a few times, but instead, she kept her mouth closed.

She did not wish to upset him.

Something boiled beneath the surface of his stoic exterior, and Veronica was not sure she wanted to risk it blowing up in her face.

But her thoughts tossed and turned, causing her turmoil of her own. She anguished over her questions. Did he truly not want her the way he had that night in the hallway? Had she somehow been disagreeable to him, and that was why he had not approached her since?

The thoughts wound worries in her stomach, and she forced herself not to fidget as they finally pulled up outside Westley Manor. The Duke hesitated, as if he would not help her out of the carriage this time, but at the last moment, right as a footman stepped up, Henry offered her his hand.

For a moment, his eyes locked onto hers, and Veronica was pinned by the dark, rolling thoughts behind them.

She slipped her hand into his, and the slide of her fingertips against his palm had her craving his proximity more.

But then she stepped down, and the Duke retreated quickly.

In the foyer of the manor, Veronica resolved to retire, letting their silence do the speaking for them. If that was how the Duke wished for it to be, then so be it. But as she watched him ascend the main staircase, she changed her mind, not bearing another second of doubt.

“Your Grace,” she called out sharply.

He paused. “Yes, Duchess?”

His voice was low, heavy with his own unspoken thoughts.

“Are you to ignore me all night once again?”

He half turned to her. “I did not think there was anything you wished to say. I am not a man of many words as you know.”

“And yet you had plenty to announce to the parlor at Lindbury House,” Veronica countered, walking towards him. “Do you truly not wish for children? Or is it the fact that you do not want to bed me that stops you from wanting them?”

Surprise spread over his face, and it was the most reactive she had seen him in some time. His brows pulled up, his eyes blinking at her.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Can you not bear to take your own wife to bed and do what is needed to produce an heir?”

“I do not know where you got that idea.”

Veronica took another step forward, and he took another step back, up the staircase, once again trapped in a dance of avoidance until it snapped, and he closed the distance he himself had created.

“Ever since that night in the hallway,” Veronica began, “you have avoided me. You have… spoken as though angry with me. You switch between moments of care and thought and then absolutely nothing. I have all but presented myself to you in a manner of which I thought you might pursue me.”

She moved towards him once again, the foyer suddenly too big a space to cross. But the Duke took one step and then the next until they both stood on the polished floor, inches away from each other.

“Duchess…” His voice was different. Weakened. Anguish flitted across his face. “Duchess, I have wanted you more than anything I have ever wanted in my whole life.” His eyes bore into her, dark and devastated, as he moved closer. “Sometimes I cannot even think of speaking to you for you are already there, occupying my thoughts. My dreams, my waking days—you are wreaking havoc over my mind and my life. When I bathe alone, it is your body I think of. When I am alone in my chamber, it is you I dream of being beside me. You taunted my ability to create distance between us and then snap, but it is only because I desire you in dark ways, Duchess. Dark ways I cannot always change or control when I give into those desires.”

Her breath came short as she listened.

Her whisper came almost without her consent, “And you think I would disagree with these ways? You think I would not want you equally the same? That every moment I have teased you, it has not been to seduce you back to my side?”

“I have not wished to pretend it could be that,” he murmured, drawing ever-closer. “But it is, is it not?”

“It is,” she whispered.

His face pulled together as if in pain. “I am not a gentle man.”

“I have not asked for gentle.”

“I hunger for you.”

“I am yours to devour.”

“Say my name.”

“Your G?—”

“My Christian name,” he told her.

Her breath left her completely as she whispered, “Henry.”

And then his mouth crashed onto hers, feverish and demanding as she knew it would be. Veronica met his passion with as much intensity as he gave her as his hands cupped her face, his breath harsh between them.

It was almost animalistic, the way he did indeed devour her mouth, capturing her lips in his, gaining entry between them.

She gasped when he snagged her lower lip between his teeth, parting her further for him. His tongue swept into her mouth as one of his hands slid down her dress, palming his way to her breast and fondling her roughly.

“Yes,” she whimpered between their kisses, arching into him. “Be rough with me.”

“You liked it.” He pulled back, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. “That night in the hallway, I saw that spark in your eyes.”

“I liked it,” she confirmed, her voice shaking. “And I wish for equal treatment.”

His gaze darkened. “Then it is yours.”

His kisses swept her up once again, and the Duke tore off his jacket, discarding it right there without a care for its elegance. Leaning down, he swept Veronica up by the back of her thighs, taking her in his arms. She let out a sound of surprise, finding herself lifted off the ground as he carried her up the staircase, never once letting up on his kisses.

She tugged at his hair, matching his fierceness, until they reached her chamber. Henry set her down at the door, closing it behind them.

And then it was just them.

Alone.

“Tell me again,” Veronica whispered, backing up, if only so he would make that slow, stalking gait towards her.

But the Duke shook his head, smirking at her, pulling her back to him.

“No, don’t walk away,” he murmured, moving in to brush back a strand of her hair that had come loose where he had held her to kiss her.

Then, he used his grip on her hair to tighten his hold and bring her closer to him. Veronica gasped at the rough touch as he brought his mouth to her ear.

“Instead, you are going to walk over to that bed, and you are going to wait on your knees for me very patiently.”

Her eyes met his in the darkness of her room. “And if I am not patient?”

His teeth caught the skin of her neck as he buried his face beneath her jaw. “Then you will find out just how rough your husband can be.”

A thrill of excitement went through her at the promise in his voice. Part of her wished to know and the other part wanted to be good, obedient, to please him.

“I suppose you expect my submission?” She drew closer to him, only to find herself stopped by his fingers closing around her wrists, pinning them behind her.

“Yes,” he told her. “I do. Only because I know you want to give it, deep down.” He leaned in, his mouth ghosting over her neck. “ Very deep down.”

“Take me,” she pleaded softly, her head falling back to allow him more access.

For a moment, he let his lips linger on her skin, the light feather touch kisses sent fire through her, and she arched for more.

“Take your wife as you please.”

His hands tightened on her wrists, keeping her pinned to his body. Between them, she could feel where his length was hardening, and she desperately wished to know how it would feel sliding inside her.

Her thoughts turned more scandalous as one of her husband’s hands slipped from her wrist to her backside, squeezing harshly, fingers digging in through the fabric of her dress. Veronica’s breath caught in her throat at the rush of pain.

“If you are not undressed and waiting for me on the bed in a matter of moments, then I shall tear the gown off you myself,” he threatened, his voice a growl in her ear as he kissed a path up the side of her face, moving to her mouth.

He allowed her a brief kiss as he released her.

Finally obeying, Veronica moved backwards, never once taking her eyes off him.

“I have changed my mind,” he told her. “Turn around.”

Veronica did and placed her arms firmly on the bedpost. She shivered with anticipation as his footsteps drew near. Then deft fingers were on her back, brushing her skin as he reached the start of her dress. She tensed?—

Only to hear a harsh tearing sound as her sleeves were yanked right off, bearing her shoulders.

More fabric came loose, and Veronica bit back a soft noise at the thought of her husband tearing the gown from her body.

“You crave me so much that you cannot unfasten a dress?” she teased, but her voice was practically a whimper as he revealed more skin, the cool night air making her shiver.

“Quiet,” he ordered.

He worked at the rest of the dress, not as rough, and soon had her in her corset, and he made quick work of that. His mouth pressed to the nape of her neck, tongue flicking out to lick her as his hands slid down her body.

“Climb onto the bed.”

“Climb?” Her voice trembled.

“On all fours,” he told her.

She shuddered. Her hands braced forward onto the bedcovers as she bent over, utterly exposed for him.

The orders shuddered through her as she crawled to the center of the bed, bearing herself.

Henry’s low noise of appreciation came from behind her, and when she glanced over her shoulder, she found his eyes on her, devouring her with that intense gaze as he tore at the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt.

Veronica swayed her hips back towards him, enticing him, and Henry could not undress himself fast enough. She noticed the tenting in his breeches, and he yanked them off before revealing the very length she had glimpsed through his clothes and witnessed hardening through fabric but never seen properly before.

Her breath came short as her eyes fell to his endowment.

“Surely I cannot?—”

“You will,” he told her. “And you can.”

The dark promise lingered, and pleasure curled through Veronica. Henry’s hand clasped his own length, and Veronica’s breath hitched. He watched her thoroughly, as if he was peeling every layer of her being off.

“Have you done this before?” he asked, cocking his head.

Her voice trembled when she said, “You must know already I have not.”

“Then I am honored to be the man to show you.” He smiled at her, a dark, indulgent thing. “In the way you have wreaked havoc on my mind, I shall wreak pleasure upon your body.”

He tipped his head up, looking at her from his height, and she felt so very small.

She loved it.

“Part your legs for me,” he told her.

Shaking, Veronica did, and then the Duke snatched up his cravat from the floor, and then he was over her, braced up on his knees. He cocked his head at her, holding up the silk cloth.

“You enjoyed this last time, did you not?”

Biting her lip, Veronica nodded.

“And you wanted rough, did you not?”

She nodded again.

The cravat snapped against her thigh, and she cried out. “I require words, Duchess.”

The way he said her title made her shiver—she knew she would not hear it in the same way again.

“You use the title as if to tease me,” she quivered.

“I do,” he said, smirking. “For you have such an honor in title by being my wife. But here you are, splayed out for me, ready to bend to my whims. It is rather fitting. I enjoy it.” He dipped his head at her. “I enjoy you .”

“Then have me.” She paused. “And say my name.”

He drew back, momentarily stunned.

“Veronica,” he whispered, as if trying it out.

“You may… call me whatever you wish.”

He cocked a brow as he snapped the cravat against her other thigh, and a stinging bloom flushed over her skin, reddening her pale complexion.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the pink-tinged skin of her leg.

“Only…” He paused again. “When you come for me, whether it be when I am inside you or on my tongue or perhaps my fingers even, it is my name you shall cry out. Understood?”

She nodded. Henry’s hand was next to come down upon her, but this time he maneuvered her, so he had access to spank her backside.

“I asked for words.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she whispered. And the title carried the same significance, only heightened in bed.

“Turn onto your back.” His order was murmured, sending shivers down her spine as she turned.

The Duke gathered the cravat and pulled her arms above her head, pushing them against the headboard. Then silk brushed her skin as he bound her like that.

“Do not think you get to touch yet,” he murmured, stroking a rough hand down her face before gripping her chin. “And if you disobey me, I shall spread your legs in such a manner that I have you begging for mercy before dawn breaks.”

“Yes, Henry,” she said again.

But before she could say more, he was kissing her, parting her lips with his tongue, and easing inside her mouth. She let her tongue tangle with his for a moment as his hands roamed her body. His palms cupped her breasts, pushing them together as he moved his mouth from hers, trailing his way down to kiss between the mounds of her chest.

“These are delectable,” he muttered, curling his tongue around her hardened nipples.

And all the while, Veronica’s core ached whenever she felt the brush of his length against her body as he moved. But he did not demand any pleasure from her, not yet. How long had he craved her to wait another few moments before he buried himself in her?

As he lavished her breasts, Henry’s hand slid up her thigh, past the stinging marks he had left with the blow of his cravat, and brushed right between her legs. Veronica gasped at the first press of his fingertips. He did not warn her as he entered, sliding a finger into her folds, already wet with arousal.

“You are soaked,” he muttered, licking and kissing his way back up to her mouth. He licked into her mouth, pulling back to meet her eyes. “I affect you this much?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I crave you as much as you crave me.”

He laughed quietly, curling his finger within her. “I thought you despised me.”

“The only one who despised anyone here was you. You despise me, Your Grace.”

But she moaned brokenly as she said his title, for he slid a second finger into her.

“I do love it when you say those words in such a manner,” he cooed. “You cannot even stay composed long enough to honor my title properly.”

“I—can,” she gasped out as he spread her open, and pleasure wreaked through her body. “Oh, Your Grace. Please . Keep doing that— please .”

His laugh echoed into her mouth as he continued. “You do not make demands tonight, Duchess.”

She moaned deeply when curled his fingers faster, and she felt herself drawing close to the same edge he had brought her that night; back then, it had been his tongue, but now, it was his fingers.

Before she could soar right off that edge, he withdrew.

“Your G?—”

“Quiet,” he reminded her. “Look at me.”

And she did. He braced himself over her, and she arched up, hating the sudden emptiness. Her arms were still bound above her head, and he drew his finger down the length of her arm, kissing her ribs almost tenderly. Her heart beat frantically in her chest. Fire filled her body, igniting her thoroughly.

“You are the bane of my life,” Henry told her, shaking his head. “But that is only because I crave you terribly and deny myself the pleasure of having you.”

“You have me.” Her insistence was breathy. “I am yours to take whenever you please.”

“Even in a room full of people?” he teased.

“If you wished it,” she said, smiling.

“Even in public? An art gallery, the theater? You would sit upon my lap and let me pleasure you? You would let me slide myself into you and take whatever I wished while you remained quiet and good?”

As he said good , Veronica felt the tip of his length against her heat. She held her breath.

“Yes,” she exhaled.

“What a scandalous Duchess you are, lifting your skirts for your husband in public,” he murmured.

They both knew it would not be done; still, the talk of it alone had Veronica growing more aroused until she was begging.

“Please, Henry,” she said, her voice breaking. “Enter me. Fill me. Please.”

“I am not gentle,” he reminded her.

“I have never asked for that,” she shot back. “I have only ever asked for you .”

Her heart thrummed in her chest as she looked at him, his deep brown eyes searching her face for a hint of hesitance, but there was none.

She was ready for him—had been ready for him for some time now.

“Then you shall have me,” he promised, and he pushed himself into her.

It was slow at first, and Veronica’s hips jumped, as if trying to take more of him. It was as though he was splitting her apart and replacing the space with unbridled pleasure, and Veronica could only cry out with desire. He was so large, and he imposed himself over her. With her hands bound, she could not even wind her fingers through his hair to pull him closer. Her body writhed as he slid in fully, and she felt every inch of his length.

Her insides fluttered around him, and Henry swallowed. Veronica lifted her head enough to kiss his throat, suckling at the skin there in a bid to distract herself while she adjusted. Her breaths came out in harsh gaps as Henry stilled.

“More,” she moaned, lifting her hips to gain more friction. “Please… more.”

He grinned at her as he leaned down to kiss her as he moved his hips, sliding out of her and then right back in. When he sheathed himself back in her, it was with all the force she had been prepared for. His thrusts were rough, and she greedily took everything he gave, moans spilling freely from her mouth. Henry felt demanding, both inside her and around her body. His mouth went from her lips, to her neck, to her shoulders. He lavished kisses along the underside of her arm as their hips moved in tandem.

He slid his hands up her waist and cupped her breasts again, fondling them to the point of sensitivity.

And all the while, Veronica kept her eyes on her husband as pleasure rolled over and over her, drowning her deliciously. He sped up, his hips meeting her backside in hard pounds as he chased his desire within her. As if it was buried so deeply, he had to search for it thoroughly.

Veronica loved it, craved it, welcomed it, and thought she would never feel truly sated after this. She would always seek him. She would never be content with remaining empty after feeling how full he made her.

“H—Henry,” she gasped. “I am—I am nearing—Oh, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Her words caught and died on her tongue as her husband kept thrusting in her.

Sweat shimmered over his muscles, his powerful shoulders, and dampened the hair at the base of his neck.

His own moans spilled into her mouth as he pulled her face up to his to kiss her deeply.

“Come with me,” he told her.

It was an order as he sped up impossibly even faster.

“Henry,” she gasped. “Henry—This… It feels so good. Please don’t stop.”

He hit a place within her core that had her seeing stars, and Veronica positively screamed in pleasure, and Henry’s length twitched in response.

“Come,” he ordered. “Find your pleasure with me.”

He hurriedly untied her hands and slid his fingers through hers, keeping her in the same held position but the slide of his skin against hers made her feel closer to him. He thrust harder—several more times, and Veronica’s back arched in pleasure as she crested that edge.

“Henry!” she cried, soaring through desire.

Her moans spilled into the dark room, and she climaxed, only to feel the Duke do the same moments after.

“Veronica,” he gasped. “Heavens—Veronica.”

His climax spilled into her as she flooded his length, and they joined in pleasure that broke the night.

And when they were both finished, Henry pulled out and released her hands, his breaths loud and heavy in the night.

He rolled off her and collapsed next to Veronica in bed. She gazed up at the ceiling before slowly turning to him.

“Does it… Does it always feel… like that?” she asked, biting her lip, already achingly empty.

Her body shuddered with the aftermath of her climax, and she yearned to go to him, to be encased within those powerfully thick arms.

“What?” he asked, teasing.

“The… Act. It felt very intense, but not everybody describes it to such lengths.”

“It does not always feel… like that as you said,” he confirmed. “Was I too rough?”

“I loved it,” she whispered, her confession lingering between them.

He gazed back at her, and she him, before he leaned in to kiss her. His tongue tangled with hers in a hint of what their whole night might look like. However, too soon, Henry pulled away and sat on the end of the bed, reaching for his discarded breeches.

He glanced back at her, a slow smirk on his face.

“I shall not assume this allows me to take liberties,” he told her. “So, I shall retire to my own chambers and allow you sleep.”

“Sleep here,” she asked of him.

He only laughed as he buttoned his shirt. “If I stay here, I fear I shall not sleep at all. Not when my wife is so ravishing. We have a busy day tomorrow. There is the village fair, and we are to meet Mr. Worthington while we are out.”

Her heart fell. She could only hope he was not using their outings as a reason to escape her. Desire was one thing, but it did equal romantic feelings. Did he have those for her as well? He could crave her body, but did he crave her heart?

She swallowed and nodded.

“I do not think I would mind,” she said, “if I lose sleep because of a thing like this.”

Henry laughed and leaned over to kiss her once, chastely. “Sleep, Duchess. I shall break my fast with you tomorrow at dawn.”