Page 90 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
“Your mouth or your heat?” he asked. “I asked you a question.”
The silk sheets clung to every line of his body, outlining the length he kept concealed from her. Suddenly, the thought of his form above her as he guided her mouth down onto him had Veronica almost swooning.
“My mouth,” she whispered. “I want you in my mouth.”
His smile appeared, wicked and dark. “And that is where you shall have me.”
He pointed at the rug on the floor before he placed a cushion from the bed down. As he moved, the bedsheets slipped, and she grew dizzy from the size of his endowment. She had thought she would not be able to take him into her heat, and yet she had. The challenge rose in her to take him into her mouth pliantly.
He smirked at her as he repositioned himself to sit on the edge of the bed. “You are not yet on your knees.”
“I am waiting for my order,” she whispered, allowing herself the admittance that she enjoyed his dominance.
His gaze darkened as he looked at her. “Fall to your knees, Veronica.”
Relieved, she finally did. As she sank down, Henry yanked at her robe tie harshly, pulling it completely off. The robe flew open, half falling off one of her shoulders to expose her. His length twitched at the sight.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke down her hips, his hands naturally sliding along her waist as she settled on the cushion. “Will you be good for me, Veronica?”
She nodded. “I will.”
“Put your hands behind your back,” he told her. “You may touch yourself, but only when I say so.”
“Henry—”
“Do I not command you?” he asked, raising a brow.
She nodded, her mouth clamping shut as desire nestled in her. She loved this—she truly loved how he spoke to her. Henry’s hand clasped his own length as he used his other one to cup the back of her head, bringing her forwards.
“Do not push yourself,” he warned.
“Do not be gentle,” she reminded him in return.
The look that crossed his face was lustful devastation as his hands tightened around her head. His fingers wound roughlyinto her hair, tugging her forward until her lips brushed the tip. It was softer than she expected, and she pulled back, looking him in the eye.
“Go on,” he told her, nodding.
Veronica closed her eyes and let herself give in to the base desires that he ignited within her. Her lips parted to allow in more of the tip of him until the entirety of the end was suckled between her lips, and Henry let out a harsh hiss of pleasure. He let go of his length, grasping her hair in both hands.
He would guide her, she knew. He would take care of her even as he treated her roughly.
He was heavy on her tongue, a delicious weight she welcomed as he pushed more of himself onto her tongue, sliding deeper. With each inch she took, she felt more and more connected to him, and without thinking, she reached behind herself to grasp his wrist—to simplytouchhim.
He moved, as if to remind her of her orders, but he stopped and only slid himself into her to the base. She hummed a moan, completed when he had his entire length in her. Veronica’s eyes lifted to meet Henry’s. They were hooded, sharply aware of her. Her breathing came slow as she forced herself to even it out.
“Like this, you look radiant,” he told her, brushing a thumb over her cheek, releasing one tight grip on her hair. “You were made to take me like this.”
Her eyes fluttered on a moan, nodding slightly. Her tongue began to explore his length, the heavy weight of it grounding her strangely. She ached to press close to him, to nuzzle him back into the sheets, to crawl over him.
She pressed her face towards his hipbone, aching for more. She was growing more aroused herself, and the knowledge of her hands not being able to wander, except for this hold on his wrist that he allowed, drove her to near madness.
“I am going to move,” he told her. “And as you requested, I will not be gentle.”
Oh, her body remembered well enough how her husband was not always gentle.
He pulled out, sighing indulgently, before pushing back into her. Veronica let her mouth open slackly when he rubbed her cheeks, coaxing her to further relax. And when he thrust into her harshly, she did not crave the feeling of adjusting, for the roughness only served to have her core heating further.
“Veronica,” he groaned, sheathing himself in her. “Veronica.”
