Page 80 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
“Speed up,” he told her tightly. “And do not stop.”
She followed the two orders, and her fist quickened around him. Even when her own hand slowed on herself, more focused on him, she continued. Her palm was soft on each stroke up, her fingers delicate yet intent. Soon, her fist flew up and down him, and Henry’s breaths came in sharper punches as he chased his climax through her hand.
“Veronica,” he moaned, his voice low, as he stood over her, her eyes fixed on him. He did not dare look away from her, not forone moment. Not when the mere sight of her face alone was almost enough to tip him over the edge of his pleasure.
When she brought him over that edge with her touch, Henry groaned, his hips stuttering with the unexpected force of the pleasure she wrung onto him. Her stroke only slowed down slightly, and soon, he was hissing, the touch too much.
And, as he had ordered, her own hand did not cease against her intimate parts, and, as if the sight of his pleasure coating her other hand was her own undoing, Veronica soon tumbled over that edge of desire after him. She cried out, her hips lifting, seeking more, as she followed his further instruction to not slow down.
Not even when she hissed, too. And yet she searched for more—as if a part of her craved the pain that came with the pleasure oftoo much.
Henry grinned. “Do not slow,” he reminded her. “Keep touching yourself for me. This little show shall have me quite entertained until I am recovered enough to bury myself in you once again.”
She sighed on a moan at his words as she spread her legs and lifted herself just so that he would have a better view. Veronica was heavenly, and as he walked around the edge of the bed to settle against the headboard, he knew she was a particular delight he would return to feast upon again and again.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Mr. Worthington has sent word,” Henry told Veronica a week later over dinner.
Veronica had spent a blissful week visiting the village and staying at the Hoof’s Inn where they dined until the late evening. They had drunk wine while Henry told her about his summers in the countryside. He still did not open up to her truly, but it was something.
They visited Mr. Worthington to check on the progress of several furniture pieces. This time, even Henry joined in with the discussions. He had ordered a new bench for the pianoforte. Ever since Veronica had performed at the village fair, she had been making use of the music room properly.
Henry had told her she deserved a more comfortable bench than the hard wooden one still in the music room.
“He has?” Veronica asked. “He works tremendously fast.”
“Indeed.” Henry held up a card. “He writes to say thatthe Duchess of Westley’s pianoforte bench with the ornate polished mahogany and plush, pink cushioned seat is one day from completion. Tomorrow, I shall have it delivered for you.”
Veronica clapped her hands. “Wonderful! Perhaps then I could perform something for you. I have been tinkering with the instrument over the last few days.”
Her husband gazed at her, something akin to softness in his eyes that had not been there before this week. “I have heard.”
“It is a lament,” she continued. “I have realized I have held too much in my heart. It grows heavy, and I wish to express myself through my old passion again. Will you still listen to it?”
“Of course,” he said. “Grief and lamentation do not faze me, Veronica.”
“I understand; I merely wanted to take care with your past.”
He rolled his neck slightly in the way he did when he was growing uncomfortable, so Veronica quickly changed the topic.
“If you have finished with your dinner, I must show you something.”
She hurried around the table to take his hand, pulling him from his chair. He managed one last swig of wine before she was tugging him down the hallway.
Before she could pull him into the music room, he had her pinned against the wall, his thigh slotted between her legs, and he pulled her flush against his hips.
She gasped at the immediate stimulation, and he caught her gasp on his tongue, kissing her deeply.
“I could not resist,” he told her. “You look beautiful.”
His hips rolled against hers, and he let out a soft moan as she tugged him closer.
“Right here in the hallway, Your Grace? What would the staff say?” She pretended to be offended and taken aback, but Henry only laughed, dipping his head towards the base of her ear, kissing just below her lobe.
“They would know to look the other way and move to another part of the house when I bend you over the balustrade.”
Her cheeks flushed deeply, imagining the sight. His voice had dropped handsomely, curling in a sultry way through her. His fingers bunched in her skirt, lifting it teasingly but not anywhere close to exposing her.
