My Dark Duke (19 page)

‘Easy, easy,' murmured the duke, taking her teacup away from her. It took several moments before she recovered her breath. She gratefully accepted the tea he had poured for her and drank it, feeling it soothe her still-burning throat.

‘Better?'

‘Yes,' she whispered, blushing slightly under his steady regard.

‘There's really nothing to be afraid of, you know.'

She narrowed her eyes. ‘When was the last time you were a virgin bride on her wedding night?'

An admiring smile curved his mouth. ‘That is a fair point.' His brow knitted. ‘Your mother did not explain to you the mechanics of lovemaking?'

Alethea folded her cold hands on her lap primly. ‘There was some talk of your staff or rod or something entering my womanhood.' The words sounded as ridiculous as they did when her mother first uttered them. It seemed that the duke was of the same opinion, for his mouth had fallen slightly agape in astonishment.

Oh Lord; her new husband was sure to cast her aside now that he knew exactly how demented her mother was, since there was a high chance that she had inherited those qualities. Her hands tightened nervously as she waited for him to speak.

It took a while, as His Grace was speechless for some time. It was something any member of the House of Lords would have paid a generous amount to witness. ‘I . . . see,' he finally replied. He wanted to reassure her, but truth be told, he was unable to form any words as he had only just allowed himself to have a proper look at his bride. She sat before him, so incredibly beautiful with her tumbling black curls and thickly fringed black-as-midnight eyes that his teeth fairly ached. Her slender form, clothed in that wickedly diaphanous garment, made him want to throw her onto the bed and ravish her until the last breath left his mortal body. But he didn't. He couldn't.

For his new duchess was terrified.

Her dark eyes were fixed on him, irises dilated with fear, while her hands were clutched together in a white-knuckled grip on her lap. He had to put her at ease or the night ahead was certain to end in disaster. He stood up and walked over to her, ignoring the way her entire body tensed at his approach. Placing his hands beneath her elbows, he urged her to her feet. Slowly, he bent his head towards hers and touched her mouth with his.

He stifled a groan. She tasted as sweet as he remembered, even sweeter now that she was finally his. Her soft lips parted quickly under his skilful assault and a surge of triumph swept through him as her hands rose to rest tentatively on his chest. His right arm urged her body against his, while his left hand cupped her nape, his fingers angling her head so that he could have better access to her. She pressed closer to him as his tongue teased the recesses of her mouth, finding the most sensitive spots until she moaned. The sound sent a shaft of pure desire shooting to his groin and he felt himself harden painfully. Once again, just as it was that night at the inn, he was ready to possess her in the space of a single kiss. She was going to be the death of him. He could feel it in his bones. But damn, what a sweet death it would be.

Without any warning, he lifted her up in his arms, and she pulled away from his mouth, startled. He set her down on the edge of the bed, then began to remove his clothes. First his coat dropped to the floor, then his waistcoat, cravat, shirt, shoes, and stockings. All the while, his wife sat frozen, staring at him with wide eyes. He paused before removing his breeches, although it was but a brief hesitation. She was going to see him naked, so she might as well get used to that now.

Alethea gasped when he finally stood unclothed before her, her mouth parting as she stared at his swollen cock.

‘Don't be afraid,' he said, approaching her slowly as if she were a frightened gazelle ready to flee at the slightest movement. He took her hand and led it to his aching shaft, swallowing a groan when her cool hand closed around him. Gritting his teeth, he dropped his hand to his side and watched as her fear slowly faded, replaced by wonder and curiosity.

Her hand explored him tentatively and he dimly wondered how long he was going to be able to hold his desire in check. Her fingers drifted down towards the swollen crown and she stroked him there, unknowingly finding the tender spot underneath and causing his breath to come to a shuddering halt. He looked down and saw her surprise on seeing the small bead of pearly liquid emerge. She used her thumb to smooth the drop into his skin, the small motion resulting in such a fierce wave of lust that he was already tugging the thin lace robe off her shoulders before he was even aware of what he was doing.

He drew her to her feet, making her hand fall away from him. ‘I'm glad you took my advice about the ribbons,' he growled, quickly undoing the ties at the front of her nightgown.

‘Oh,' was all she said as the garment fell into a puddle at her feet.

He drew back the covers and waited for her as she quickly climbed in, doubtless eager to shield her nakedness. He followed suit, smiling faintly despite the throbbing in his groin at her furious blush when she realised that he did not intend to cover her, but was instead unashamedly observing her newly bared form.

‘My beautiful wife,' he said softly, cupping a breast in his hand. Despite her slender build, her breasts were full, the tips flushed a deep rose. He was inordinately pleased at the obvious signs of her arousal when he had done nothing but kiss her. Leaning up on one elbow, he bent down and covered her right nipple with his mouth, drawing strongly.

‘James!' she gasped, her body tensing in shock beneath his.

He smiled inwardly at her use of his Christian name. If this was the setting in which she was at ease uttering it, then he had no complaints at all. He swirled his tongue around the areola, before flicking the tip of it against the tight bud. After a few moments, he changed sides, alternating between sucking and flicking motions. In the meantime, his hand drifted down his bride's tight abdomen, and he felt her body jerk at the first touch of his fingertips on the soft hair at the juncture of her thighs.

Urging her thighs apart, he took his mouth away from her breasts and moved up, laying his head on the pillow next to hers. Watching her, he slid his middle finger between her soft folds, drawing in a sharp breath when it met slick moisture. God, she was so responsive she took his breath away. He pressed his thumb against her swollen bud and circled it gently.

Alethea's mouth fell open and she started to pant softly when he gently breached her opening with his finger.
Bloody hell.
She was even tighter than he remembered. Taking her was not going to be easy. Thrusting his finger within her, he watched as her eyes dilated with desire and her breathing quickened.

‘J-James, please . . .' she begged, her hand reaching out to clutch at his shoulder, her fingers digging into him. ‘I-I need . . .' She whimpered when he sought to add another finger, wanting to stretch her tight channel to prepare her for his entry. It was difficult, and he muttered a curse when his fingertips met the unyielding membrane of her maidenhead. He pushed gently on it, but stopped when she whimpered again, pain flashing across her face. Pulling his fingers out, he changed tack and replaced his thumb with his middle finger on her sensitive nub. She drew in a shuddering breath, her legs moving restlessly next to his when he stroked down first one side, then the other of the small hood.

He wanted more than anything to place his mouth intimately on her, but he was afraid that he would lose the already tenuous hold he had on his control and terrify her. In any case, he thought with a deep sense of gratification as she pressed her sex impatiently against his hand, she didn't appear to need any further stimulation. He circled then stroked her bud, increasing the pressure until, with a cry, she reached her peak, trembling as sensation after sensation battered her.

James had never seen anything as magnificent as the rose-coloured flush that covered her body, her skin gleaming with a faint sheen of perspiration. Her eyes were dazed as she looked at him, and then he was the stunned one, for Alethea reached up to draw him to her for a kiss. He could barely believe his good fortune as their mouths met passionately. Her hands pulled his shoulders to her impatiently while their tongues played and jousted. Good God, she wanted more? Surely he must be the luckiest man on earth.

Alethea arched up against him and he could ignore his body's urges no longer. Any more of this and he would spill himself like an untried boy. He broke off their kiss, breathing heavily. ‘Alethea, do you trust me?' he panted.

His duchess blinked. ‘Why, of course.' His heart surged at her answer, as if there was no other answer she could have given.

‘My sweet, when I take you, there will be a moment of pain, but I promise that it will be a fleeting one, and there will be no more pain after tonight. Do you believe me?'

She hesitated a moment. ‘Yes.' She looked like she was going to say more, but did not.

‘What is it?' He smoothed her hair from her face.

‘Well, it's just that . . . you're awfully . . . large. How are you going to fit?' Alethea looked earnestly at him.

He felt laughter rise up within him. ‘Don't fret, sweetling, I will fit. We were made for each other, do you not know that?' He said this partly to tease her, partly to put her at ease, but it felt as if he had just uttered a deep truth. The tenderness was unexpected, and not knowing how to deal with it, he pushed the thought aside to examine later.

‘If you say so,' she said, looking dubious. He couldn't help but smile at her next statement after a heartfelt sigh. ‘Let's just get it over with. I vow I cannot bear this situation much longer.'

‘I had no idea my wife was such a romantic,' he teased as he came up over her body.

‘Oh hush,' she muttered, bracing her hands on his shoulders and widening her legs to make space for him.

He gritted his teeth when he felt his painfully swollen shaft touch the damp entrance to her body. Fighting every nerve that was screaming for him to plough into her until he reached his release, he slowly pushed in until he felt the barrier. James looked down at his bride, who was already biting her lip, her brow furrowed with pain. Her fingers dug painfully into his shoulders.

Damn it to everlasting hell
. He would have given away his entire fortune to not hurt her.

‘This will be over in a moment. Don't move. Promise me you won't move, Alethea.' He wondered if she could even understand what he was saying, his teeth were clenched so tightly. She gave a small nod. ‘Put your legs around me.' Blood pounded deafeningly in his ears and his arms shook with tension as they supported his weight above her.

Alethea obeyed, her eyes bright with unshed tears as the movement lodged him harder against her maidenhead. It suddenly occurred to him that her frequent horse riding should have dealt with her hymen. The fact that it hadn't was not a good sign. He drew a breath, held it, and thrust hard.

Her scream rent the night, and he froze. His hands fisted around the sheets as he tried to remain still. It was nigh impossible. She was warm and tight and wet around him, so perfect he couldn't breathe. It was killing him not to continue thrusting, for she hadn't even taken all of him. But he knew she was in pain, so he forced himself to concentrate on her. The wild look in her eyes tore at his heart as her hands pushed at his shoulders.

‘Get off me,' she cried, pushing hard. When he didn't budge, she pushed harder. ‘No more, James, please. You're hurting me!' Tears poured from her eyes as she started to struggle under him.

‘Alethea, don't move. You'll hurt yourself.' He caught her hands with his and held them next to her head, trying to force her body into immobility. His entire body was shaking and he groaned as her twisting hips made him sink deeper into her soft depths. ‘Darling, please don't move.'

But she didn't listen. She probably couldn't, with the pain she was in. She bucked upwards again to throw him off. It was the last straw. A red haze of lust enveloped him and the iron control he had been exercising snapped. He released her hands and caught hold of her hips, withdrawing and then plunging back into her soft depths, uncaring of everything now except the biological imperative to reach his climax. Never in his life had he felt such savage desire, the ferocity of which consumed him so entirely that he was blind and deaf to the world. It took mere seconds. With a loud roar he climaxed, jetting his seed deep within her as his entire body shook with the strength of his release.

Muscles weakened from his explosive climax, he collapsed onto the bed next to Alethea, chest heaving with exertion. His heart was still pounding in his ears when she reared up and slapped his cheek. ‘You lying pig!' she spat furiously at him, her eyes flashing with anger.

He winced, brought abruptly out of his stupor. He looked at his wife, magnificent even in the throes of fury, as he tried to recall what it was that he had lied about. Unfortunately for him, some of his confusion must have shown on his face.

‘You told me it was going to hurt “but a fleeting moment”. It hurt like the bloody blazes!' she shouted in his face. Tears sparkled on her eyelashes and he felt a pang in his chest.

Damn, damn, damn.
‘Sweetheart, I am so very sorry.' He knew even as he spoke that his apology would do little to mollify her.

‘Liar.' She turned her head away from him so that he was left with staring at the back of her head.

He cursed himself. ‘Please believe me when I say that I am truly sorry for lying to you. It was unintentional. I had underestimated how' – he scrambled around for an appropriate word –'difficult taking your maidenhead would be.' He made his voice gentle. ‘And I am especially sorry for hurting you. Terribly, terribly sorry.' He waited a moment but she said nothing. It served him right, unfeeling, rutting bastard that he was. He tried again. ‘Do you think you could find it in your heart to forgive this idiotic, befuddled husband of yours some time this century?'