Page 29 of Claiming His Lost Duchess
“Do not mention it. But if we are to make this new development succeed, I believe… it would be in our best interest to set a few rules if we are to coexist peacefully. After all… You had a life before me, and I do not wish to dismiss that entirely, no matter how much I hope the future — our future - is focused solely on us and our child,” he told her, gaze fixated on her intensely.
Joan agreed, after all, she was living under his roof, hoping to benefit from his generosity with her daughter. Whatever rules he had, she was willing to adhere to them, as long as Sophia would be protected, and given a chance at a much better life. Anything would be a much more preferable fate, as long as her husband did not try to steal their daughter away.
“I understand. Please go on,” she urged softly, her spine stiffening in anticipation.
But the rules never came, as it seemed her husband was preoccupied with something else. His eyes wandered over her body slowly, settling on her chest at first, before gradually slipping lower and lower, stopping where the lace hem of her night gown fell, barely covering her knees.
Quickly, she pulled her dressing gown close, thinking it would resolve the situation, and she prompted with burning cheeks.
“Y-You have my attention. Please state your rules.”
But it seemed he had other ideas, and he stepped towards her, causing her to step away instinctively.
“Are you trying to test my patience?” he asked her gruffly, his hungry gaze flickering to hers for a moment.
Shaking her head, Joan took another step back, as he took one towards her. This dance continued for a few more moments, with her stepping back as he stepped forward, but she soon ran out of space to run when the back of her knees hit the bed.
She lost her balance immediately and ended up falling onto it, managing to stay seated as she responded breathlessly,
“I-I am not trying anything —”
The words were barely out of her before his body covered hers, his lips claiming her own moments later. Her body weakened beneath his touch as a hand settled on her thigh, while the other was propped on her bed to keep his weight off her.
His lips moved against hers slowly, coaxing her to open up to him, his tongue hot as it stroked hers. Joan whimpered, her thoughts fading, and he kissed her passionately, his hand on her sliding up to her hip to pull her closer to him.
“You taste so good,mo chridhe,” he mumbled against her lips with a moan, his Scottish accent thickening with his desire.
Joan did not understand what those words meant. She recalled that he had whispered them to her before, but her main problem lay in her inability to push him away.
His touch set her insides ablaze, and she couldn’t help but lean in closer. Once again, she couldn’t help but feel alarmed by how she acted in response to his actions. Rather than terror or disgust, she couldn’t help but yearn for more, kissing him back with as much fervor as she could muster, her hands clinging to his shoulders in an effort to pull him even closer.
His lips left hers briefly to press kisses against her jaw, her cheeks, and along the column of her throat, sending shivers down her spine. His hand roamed along her side, his fingertips slipping under the hem of her nightdress, lightly caressing the skin of her thigh.
When his lips returned to hers, he mumbled against them, his voice deep and breathless,
“Tell me to stop. Make me leave, right now.”
He couldn’t possibly mean that, not with how his grip on her tightened slightly, not with how hot his mouth felt against hers with every searing kiss. It was surprising, how her body relaxed in his grasp, as if it recalled his touch instantly. That was a plausible likelihood, seeing as he was the only one who had ever touched her like this.
And she couldn’t do what he asked either, because she did not want to, could not resist the urge to return his kisses with as much heat, could not refuse the yearning burning within her.
So she shook her head, bringing her hands together at the back of his neck to draw him even closer.
Graham mumbled something under his breath with a growl, and he pushed her down onto the bed, causing her to gasp as her back hit the sheets.
“You should have sent me away. You should have refused. I don't have enough strength to resist ye. Not a day has gone by when my body has forgotten the feel of yers.”
He barely let her gather her thoughts before he was in her space again, littering every inch of her skin he could reach with kisses. Joan pressed a hand to her mouth as he sank his teeth into the juncture of her neck, barely managing to stifle the whine that bubbled out of her throat.
Graham’s hand slipped further beneath her dressing gown, nudging her legs apart as he kissed her again, this time slow and deep.
Joan felt as though she was falling apart gradually, her mind in shambles beneath the power he seemed to effortlessly wield against her. She felt helpless, in a way that she knew was of her own volition, as much as she could control.
She gasped when his fingers slipped past her the folds of her womanhood, thrusting in and out of the wet heat. Joan pressed her face into his neck, inhaling his warm musk scent, and he drew quiet moans from her.
“Let me hear you,” he ordered, holding her by the chin with his other hand, his eyes boring into hers as he pressed his fingers in deeper, his gaze heavy and dark as she writhed in his grasp. “I want every sound, every feeling, every reaction… I’ve waited for so long,mo chridhe,you do not know what it means to me to have you in my arms like this. Let us savor it as best as we can, hm?”
His voice was determined to be her undoing, seeping into the crevices of her mind and luring her body to commit to his will. Joan did not know when her hand fell away to clutched his shirt, her lips parting to let out a cry at a particularly hard thrust of his fingers.
