Chapter 15 #2
“She was right,” he sighed, his voice dropping. “For so long, I refused to admit it. I thought she was unwell, mentally broken… I was unable to understand what she meant and why she would…” A shake of the head. “I blamed her, refusing to accept that her death was my fault.”
“It was not your fault,” Octavia said. “How can you –”
“It was,” he cut her off sharply. “I am not an easy man to live with. I might have rescued her from her father, but I forced my own brand of sorrow and isolation onto her… I was cold, removed, a ghost in this house because I did not want to risk growing close to her. I thought…” His voice cracked again.
“I thought that by avoiding her that I was doing her a favor.”
“Evander…” She spoke his name for the first time, a gentle whisper that she hoped told him that he was not alone.
“I killed her,” he said. “I killed her because I refused to consider… to care about her in anyway. Worse still, even all these years later, I have not changed, I have not grown. And now, I see myself doing the same thing to my son, and while I want to be better, to be the man I never was, I do not know how.”
“You are not that man,” Octavia said gently. “You might think that you are, but I have seen the other side of you. I have seen a father who cares –”
“You lie, Miss Finch.”
“I do not.” Her voice hardened. “You still have a long way to go, I will not deny that. But a man who does not care, he would not have hired me. He would not have allowed my brother to join our lessons.” She laughed.
“And he certainly would not be so… demanding of me, making sure that I give his son the best care.”
He said nothing, still with his head bowed.
“Look at me,” she said. “You want to wallow in self-pity? You want to blame yourself? Look me in the eyes and tell me truly if you think that anything I have just said is a lie. You know it is not.”
“You…” He shook his head. “Why can you not, just once, agree with me? Why must it always be a fight?”
“I want to agree with you,” she said, a touch of humor in her voice. “Only, this time, you leave me no choice but to argue. You might not be the perfect father, but you are not a lost cause. And if you allow me, if you really want to change, then let me help. Let me show you how.”
“No…” A shake of the head. “It is too late for me.”
“Again, you force me to argue.” She shuffled right beside him so that their legs touched. She squeezed his hand. And then, with her other hand, she reached down, rested a finger under his chin, and guided his face up to meet her eyes.
His eyes were bloodshot. The pain behind them was undeniable. But behind them, lurking in their depths, she saw a glimmer of hope. He wanted to believe her… he wanted her to help.
“I am stubborn,” she said. “And I do love to argue. That is why I am not going to give up on you. And if not for you, for Master Aaron. A boy needs a father, and you are the only one that he has.”
“You… you truly believe that?”
“I do,” she said. “And do not dare try and tell me differently.”
Again, the Duke’s reaction was entirely unexpected. Always, the Duke leaned toward anger as a defense mechanism. He was dismissive. He was closed off. And most of all, he was stubborn. Octavia fully expected him to revert to his old ways, rather than accepting her words.
But as their eyes met, as she held them and forced her truth upon his weakened defenses, he furrowed his brow, he considered her closely, and then he smiled.
It was a weak smile. There was no confidence behind it. But it rose up the side of his face, it told her that he believed her, and that he wanted to do better by Aaron… by himself, also. It was an admittance of defeat, as well as an acceptance of who he might be, should he dare to try.
There were so many things that Octavia wanted to say. However, she felt that the time for words had passed.
As Octavia looked into the Duke’s eyes, as she held his hand, as her other lifted his head so that he was forced to look at her, she felt that same energy rising between them that had come on two occasions before.
It was indescribable. The pull of this energy.
The air sparked around them. The room darkened, even the world, so that they were the only two who lived within it.
For so long, she had questioned the Duke’s feelings, if their last kiss was done to test her, to prove something… that the Duke felt nothing for her.
He is not emotionless. He is not empty. He feels. He cares. He wants like any other man.
Slowly, they shifted closer. Slowly, their heads tilted. And just as slowly, both cautious as if not sure of what they were doing, they leaned in, and their lips met.
The kiss consumed them both. It wrapped them, it held them together, it dismissed all concerns and questions about if this was right.
Words were one thing, but actions spoke so much louder, and this kiss confirmed the truth of what had happened…
just as it confirmed the truth of what would happen from here on out.
The Duke, accepting the kiss, moved his hands to Octavia’s legs, he grabbed and squeezed, and he pulled her forward. So strong was he, so commanding, that as they kissed, he lifted her into the air and lowered her gently onto his lap so that she straddled him.
Octavia’s hands took the side of the Duke’s face, refusing to let go. She absorbed him with that kiss, he devoured her with his own, and for a brief moment nothing else in the world seemed to matter. That kiss… it was as if the world ended, and this was their final act.
“No…” The Duke spoke between kisses, even as he kissed her harder. His tongue danced in her mouth, and his teeth nibbled. “We should not…”
“Stop fighting me,” she moaned as she continued to kiss him. “Just once… stop…”
“You are so…” He groaned as he pulled away, only to attach her neck with his wet lips. “Insufferable.”
“Tell me more.” She closed her eyes and leaned back as his lips moved down her neck.
“Argumentative,” he growled as his hands squeezed her legs and held her to his body.
“That’s all?”
“And stubborn.”
His lips found her mouth again, and the kiss intensified.
As they kissed with fever and intensity, his hands slipped under the skirt of her gown. His fingers traced her bare thighs. She gasped, thinking to pull away, but she was in the throes of it now, and nothing would stop her.
Those same fingers started to inch further up her bare thighs. Her legs began to tremble. Her loins caught fire. A moistness bloomed between her legs, one that Octavia did not understand but knew was right.
“I…” She pulled away. “Should we…”
“No more arguing.” He forced her face back, and she accepted him without argument.
His fingers moved deeper. They found her opening. She gasped as they traced her womanhood, and she shuddered and moaned as they started to press against her lips.
Their kissing continued. She became lost in it.
She never wanted it to end. This was so unlike Octavia.
She was not one to give in like this. She was not one to let herself go.
But the Duke had a power over her, and where she might have liked to argue and take control, she also felt the desire to give herself over completely.
Let him have this moment… Let him have me.
Gently, so very carefully, the Duke slipped his fingers inside of her.
Her body went rigid as she felt him enter her.
She kissed him harder and with more passion.
Her breath caught in her throat, her heart exploded so she thought she might collapse, and the pleasure that came from those two fingers was unlike anything she had felt before.
This was giving in. This was surrendering. This was what she had been missing.
“Oh…” She moaned as his fingers began to curl, stroking her walls. “Oh…”
He chuckled deeply as he continued to kiss her.
Her breathing rose. Her body began to shake. The Duke curled his fingers expertly, moving them to the rhythm of her breathing. She pushed her pelvis harder, forcing his fingers deeper inside of her. She started to grind her hips, not knowing if it was right, and not caring.
The Duke pulled his fingers out, only to gently rest their tips on the bundle of nerves that sat above her opening. That was when she exploded.
Octavia cried out with lust and passion.
She tore her lips free and buried her head into the Duke’s chest. He used one hand to hold her head into his body, gripping her hair, allowing her to bite at his shirt.
His other hand continued to rub her, stroke her, coaxing from her a sensation that was not unlike a fire catching light and growing.
“Evander…” She started to pant as she felt that energy build. “I… what… what is… you need to…”
“Trust me,” he growled as his fingers continued to stroke her; each movement sent a wave of pleasure through her body that she felt pierce her soul. “And do not tell me what to do.”
Her entire body trembled and spasmed. It shook violently. From his fingers, something spread across Octavia, growing, expanding, threatening to explode so that she thought her entire body might be torn asunder.
She caught her breath, buried her head as hard as she could into him, and clenched her jaw with anticipation.
Ehen that explosion came… it had her throwing back her head and crying out. But not with pain. What struck her was a type of pleasure that she did not know was possible.
She screamed. She writhed. She gasped and tried to catch her breath. The sensation grew, it then collapsed, and it buried itself right in her heart so that her entire body withdrew… only to roar to life.
Once it was done, once her breathing returned to normal, the Duke slowly removed his fingers. She still straddled his lap, so she looked down at him with absolute shock, no idea what had just happened or what to think.
What was that… how… why… and when can we do it again?
The Duke looked up at her. He wore a triumphant smirk. He did not appear surprised. He did not appear ashamed. He looked at her in a way that suggested he was seeing her for the first time. Or maybe he was seeing himself and what could be…
“There,” he said finally, his voice a deep whisper. “Isn’t it nice to, for once, not argue and do as you are told?”
Octavia agreed with him, a most strange thing. Maybe behaving, not always arguing and being so stubborn, wasn’t nearly so bad as she was led to believe.
Who would have thought such a thing…