His Temporary Duchess (Dukes Ever After #5)

Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

E leanor felt as though her world ended and began every time Sebastian touched her, especially when he did so in this way, with the roughness of urgency and the gentleness of tenderness. The shape of his mouth against hers convinced her that he wanted her almost as much as she wanted him, and there was nothing more in the world that she could want.

“I ought to punish you,” he murmured there, tearing at her clothes to reveal skin, “for tormenting me in this way.”

Such sweet torment. She would have given herself to the flames themselves if they would have burned her with this same pleasure. “Then do so.”

He growled and tore still more at her clothes, ripping them from her body and tossing them aside. Then he bent her over his knee, naked while he remained clothed, and brought his hand down on her bare buttock. She gasped, the sting moving through her body until it dissolved into heat. Nothing had ever quite felt like it, the pain and pleasure blending together to such an extent that she could not distinguish one from the other.

“This is for all the ways in which you have invaded my life,” he said, delivering another stinging slap. “And this is for inviting Luke to the picnic with us.”

“Why are you so against his friendship?”

Another stinging slap directly where the other had been. “That was for the question.”

She squirmed, already aching and needing something between her legs to ease her need. “I’m sorry.”

Another blow. “What do you call me when we are like this?”

“Sir. I’m sorry, sir .”

“Good. I’ll give you ten more of these, and if you choose to behave, I may consider rewarding you.”

Eleanor bit her lip as he struck her across her other buttock. She could almost imagine the red handprint he would leave on her pale skin, the proof that he had been there, branding her, marking her. Not in a permanent way, but he had already done that to her heart. She had never been opposed to falling for her husband—marriages, she supposed, would be easier with some affection on one or both sides—but she knew now how fixed that affection was.

Even if he denied her for the remainder of her life, she would still love him for all the small gestures, and the way he slowly had opened himself to her. She loved the cruel man he could be, and the clever man he often was. There were so many different facets to him, and she loved them all.

Five spanks. Her eyes watered and she bit her lip to hold back her cries of pain. The soft flesh between her legs throbbed with need. If she could not endure the pain, she could tell him, and he would stop, but with each strike, her arousal grew. And after a few seconds of sting, the pain turned to pleasure. The burning felt exquisite.

“ Eight .” He struck her again. “ Nine .” Once more. “ Ten .”

She whimpered, draped helplessly over his lap. Her legs felt like jelly, and her bottom burned. It was all too much and yet not enough, because she needed—she needed —more.

He feathered his hand between her legs and cursed. “So you did enjoy that after all, hmm, my sweet girl?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.

“Have you been good?”

“Yes, sir. Please…”

“I suppose I can be generous.” He slid a finger inside her, and she gasped. Then he shifted her so he was sitting in the bed beside her, her face beside his groin. As she watched, he brought his length out from the falls of his breeches and offered it to her. Understanding what she was being given, she brought her mouth down on him, and he sucked in a breath.

Their intimacy became a competition of sorts; who could bring the other to completion first. He worked her with his fingers, and she used her mouth and tongue. And all too soon, she felt the overwhelming rush of impending climax.

Oh yes, he was a generous man.

“Sebastian,” she gasped.

He thickened in her mouth, but before she could say a thing, she tipped over the edge. As he worked her through the waves of pleasure, he found his own release, pumping in her mouth. She choked, but dutifully swallowed once she came back to herself.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, catching her chin and wiping the corner of her mouth. His cheeks were flushed, eyes dark and heavy, his hair a little wild as though he had run one hand through it. “I should have checked if you were ready.”

She licked her lips. In truth, she hadn’t minded, but she adored this softer side to him. It always felt as though after their intimate moments, he lowered a wall around himself and allowed her to see a different side to him.

“Stay with me,” she said instead, taking hold of his arm. “Please? Just for a little.”

She thought he might protest, but perhaps he was tired for he adjusted his position on the pillows and gave her space to crawl into his arms. She rested her head against his chest, feeling the strong pounding of his heart and the strength of his arms as they settled around her.

“Are you warm enough?” he murmured, and she remembered belatedly that she wore no clothes. He had brought her dresses, then removed everything she had been wearing.

“No, I’m perfectly warm.” She trailed a finger across his chest, wondering if she was going to stray too far and force him to close up again. “But I do have a question.”

He sighed, but the sound was one of resignation rather than true irritation. “Of course you do.”

“Be honest with me.” She hesitated, thinking she knew the answer but uncertain if he would admit the true cause. “Why do you change the servants so often?”

“Mm.” He placed his hand on hers, right above the heavy thud of his heart. “I was wondering when you would build the courage to ask again.”

“I waited until I thought you might answer.”

“A wise move.” He hesitated, and she saw him frown. “In my experience, servants are not so much loyal to a position as they are to convenience and their own whims. I would prefer the disruption of replacing my servants than risk becoming accustomed to ones who might leave.”

Eleanor’s heart pinched. “Has something like that happened to you before?”

“When my parents died…” He cleared his throat. “I am certain you must have heard rumors about it. My parents died under circumstances that were never truly brought to light. I believe a servant was trying to steal from them and made an error when putting them to sleep. Still, the fact is, they died, and my father’s butler, a man who practically raised me as a boy, decided the scandal could not be borne, and he chose to resign and choose a different position.”

She twisted her hand around and clutched his more tightly. “I’m sorry. That must have been so difficult.”

“It was a valuable lesson. I had thought him loyal, but he was not, or at least not so loyal that self-interest did not come first.”

“Not everyone is like that,” she murmured. “He might have left because he found his personal situation to be untenable, but that does not mean everyone is the same.”

“They are the same enough.” He looked down at her. “You believe yourself obliged to be with me out of duty, but that does not mean you cannot leave. I know of plenty of wives who do.”

“You do?” The thought sent a burst of terror through her. “I know of none.”

“It is better to remain unattached.”

“I don’t believe it is. My father died too, Sebastian. My mother and my father passed away and Margaret detested me. I know what it is to be alone. For a long time, my only friend was Scrunch. But I refused to believe the worst of everyone, and now I have friends. I have a life. I have a husband .”

He sat up abruptly. “You would have done better in learning how fickle people can be.”

“Not everyone is. Luke—”

“ Luke left me when I most needed someone, and he did not so much as have the decency to tell me why. Even now, his motives remain a secret, and I was left to deal with…” His throat bobbed, and he looked away. Lady Lydia. Eleanor wished she knew enough to understand. “Well, he was just another in a long line of people who have left me.”

“I will not leave you,” she said, almost desperately. “Please, believe me.”

“I wish I could believe you, but we can never know what we must face in life. We never know what might happen, or how our hearts may change.” His expression twisted, and she felt certain he was thinking of Lady Lydia again. He had a tally of all the people who had abandoned him when he needed them, but she would not become one of them. “Besides, it might be better if you did not learn to care so much. I am too broken a man to give you what you need.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know it better than you might think.” He gave a sad smile and drew back, and Eleanor felt her heart crack at the gesture. “You have proven yourself to be soft and good and everything I’m afraid I cannot be.”

“I want you just as you are,” she pressed, scrambling to follow him out of the room, nakedness and all. “I don’t need you to change for me, Sebastian. I just want you.”

He frowned down at her, and the raw pain in his voice cut her open, too. “You don’t know what you are asking.”

“Please.” She took his hand and brought it to her lips. “You are my husband, and I—” She didn’t quite dare to say the words in case they scared him off again, so she said, “I care for you.”

“I should push you away,” he murmured, laying a hand on her bare waist and drawing her closer to him. “I should remember all the reasons why it is foolish to care.”

“There are no reasons when it comes to us.”

“There are plenty. And I have forgotten them all. That is my folly.” He laid a hand on her bare waist and drew her closer to him. “I think you may be the death of me, my sweet wife.”

“Gladly.”

He chuckled, but his expression smoothed, and when he kissed her again, Eleanor knew with a certainty that he would stay the night.

Sebastian did not know when he had fully abandoned his plan of forcing Eleanor to leave him. But as he lay beside her, listening to her soft breaths in the darkness, he knew how utterly in vain it was. Everyone left him—and Lydia had taught him how fundamentally unlovable he was, especially given his fear of attachment.

Yet for all that, he had given Eleanor space in his heart. There was no purpose in trying to deny it. He had given her space, and she had taken hold of it with both hands. Now, if he lost her, he knew just how much it would hurt. But for the first time in his life, or at least the first time in a long time, he resolved to do what he could to keep her.

Dresses. Gifts. Pin money. A wooden cage for that ridiculous mouse of hers so it would not defile her drawer and have a secure place to stay when it was not on her person. That would give him peace of mind, too, to know that the rodent would not crawl across his face as he slept. But most importantly, it would give her joy.

When had that become the primary focus of his life?

She stirred and rolled over, her breath hot against his arm. She remained naked, and he had removed his clothes for the night, too. Skin-to-skin; it had been a long time since he had allowed that liberty with another person. The first time he had shared a bed and the night with another.

His body stirred at the thought and her proximity, and the understanding that he would no longer be seeking to find ways for her to annul the marriage. She had made it plain enough that she had no intention of it, and there was no point flogging a dead horse.

No point in denying them both any further.

He reached over and stroked a hand down her arm. Her breath hitched, then she sighed in what sounded almost a little like relief. “Sebastian?” she whispered, her voice heavy with sleep and—yes, there was lust there, too.

That was another thing he adored about the woman he married. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

He leaned over and pressed his mouth to hers. Even sleepy, she stirred under him, and he kissed her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat where her pulse thudded. She wrapped her arms around his nape, and he continued his explorations. Her breasts, and the dusky nipples that had already stiffened in anticipation of his attentions. She let out a soft cry as he allowed his teeth to graze them.

Yes, he would not be stopping now unless she bid him to. He ached, hard and ready against her leg, eager to sink inside her and make her his in every definable way. Finally, the marriage would be consummated. She would be his .

He needed her to be his. To stay his.

This went beyond mere passion or desire. He needed her the way a man needed air to breathe and water to drink. Having her had, somewhere along the way, become an integral part of his life, something he needed, lest he slowly fade away.

She shuddered underneath him as he kissed his way down her body. Soon, he would have her, but first, he wanted to taste her.

“Sebastian?” she asked uncertainly as he kissed her inner thigh.

“Hush. You’ll enjoy it.” He gave her another reassuring kiss against her thigh. “I promise.”

She lay back, protesting no more, and Sebastian set his mouth against the sweet center of her. She tasted delectable, better than anything he could ever have imagined. A man could gorge himself on a woman like her and never be satisfied. Above him, Eleanor fisted the blankets and arched her back, her breathing shattering as he found the point of her pleasure and worked it with his tongue. As he did so, he slid a finger inside her. Hot, wet, tight. Everything he needed. He throbbed, desperate to push inside her with more than a finger, his hips thrusting involuntarily against the bed. Even that sent a spike of pleasure through him.

He did not know how she did this to him, but he suspected it would never end.

She tightened around him, and he knew she was close.

“Don’t hold back,” he whispered against her slickness. “Don’t you dare hold back, Eleanor.”

She started to say something, or perhaps it was just his name, but he slid a second finger inside just as he flicked one last time with his tongue, and she broke, cresting a wave that he felt thrum through her. He kept up the pressure until she wilted, and then he could wait no longer. Slowly—painfully slowly—he moved back up her body, delivering kisses as he went, until he reached her lips, which he claimed with his own.

“I want you,” he murmured, and allowed the words to register on her face before continuing. “Will you allow me that right?”

“You are my husband...”

“I am asking you as a man.”

“Then let me grant you permission as a woman.” She shifted under him. “I am yours. Take me as you will.”

A dangerous command, given what he wished, but he restrained himself, and instead brought his hands to the head of his manhood, ensuring that her juices were slick enough on him to grant easy access. He had never taken a lady’s virginity before, but he had a general understanding of the basics.

“This may hurt,” he whispered. “I will—this time—be gentle.”

This time . Her eyes widened at that, then filled with familiar heat. She had climaxed once already, the taste of it still on his tongue, but that face told him she would be eager to do so again, and for him to take her roughly.

Not this time, though. He wanted her too much—valued her too much—to be anything but gentle this first time. Once she had accustomed herself to him, he had other things planned. Other positions, other intentions, other ways that he could have her.

So many ways.

He burned for her.

Carefully, he positioned himself at her entrance, and she canted her hips to allow him better access. He slipped inside, and it was an exercise in restraint that he did not sink inside her mindlessly, determined to take and take and take. Instead, he pushed in slowly, gently, inch by inch, as her body gave underneath him. He encountered resistance and paused, looking down into her face and meeting her eyes as he broke through the last piece of her virginity.

Then he was seated fully inside her, and heaven help him, he could have embarrassed himself fully if he wasn’t careful.

“How do you feel?” he grated.

She experimented with rolling her hips beneath him, and he sucked in a breath, tensing every muscle and willing himself to remain still.

“Good…” she breathed after a moment. “I feel good. Can you—”

“Yes.” Gently, he withdrew, and then thrust back inside. “ Yes .” With his other hand, he brought it to her folds and began to rub her there, and a blank sort of pleasure rolled across her face as her eyes grew distant. He felt the pressure begin at the base of his spine, and forced himself to hold back, to make this as pleasurable for her as possible.

“ Sebastian ,” she gasped.

“You are mine,” he told her as he worked them both into a frenzy. “You are mine, and I hope you never have cause to forget it. Mine .”

“Yours. I am yours.” Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. “Always,” she mumbled, her breathing catching. She was close again, and it was a relief to him that she took relatively little to get her to the edge, because he knew he would not last long, either.

“Together,” he said.

She looked confused. “Together?”

“We will crest the wave together.”

For a moment, she looked as though she didn’t understand, but finally, awareness bloomed in her eyes. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. There could be no competition. Beautiful and his . Not just in the eyes of the law, but in the eyes of man. He had claimed her, and now he would not let her go.

“Yes,” she breathed, her nails digging into his arms. “ Together .”

He gritted his teeth. “Tell me when.”

“I—” Her back arched, and she jerked against his fingers. “ Now ,” she whispered.

He could not have held back if he tried. They both tumbled off the edge into ecstasy together, and when they had both come back to themselves, he wrapped her in his arms again, holding her close as sleep overcame them both.

Together .