Page 70 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
“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.”
