Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Iris could not begin to imagine what Philip wanted to show her. That he was excited about it, and that she was too, told her that it was the right thing. A final chance for him to prove himself to her.
Does he even need to? After his apology, that kiss… I now know how he feels about me. Just as I know how I feel about him.
Still, she was curious. And with how eager Philip was to show her, she could only guess what this was all about.
It felt to her like a final confirmation that this marriage could work.
Assuming, that is, this little surprise was nearly as important as Philip seemed to think.
Proof that he knew her truly, and that they could work together.
They rode back to the estate in a carriage.
It reminded Iris a little of that first day when they had married, because there was still some tension in the air.
It felt as if they shouldn’t talk, not until they arrived home and this final surprise was shown.
And Iris, her nervousness growing by the second, was certain Philip could hear her heart thumping away.
Once they arrived, Philip led her inside. He held her hand as he did, squeezing it gently, a smile painted across his lips. He glanced at her as they went, the smile growing.
“Curious?” he asked her.
“That is one word for it…”
“You’ll see.”
He led her to the eastern wing, the same that she had been told not to venture down all those weeks ago. Through the halls, they came upon a set of double doors that were closed. Philip released her hand once they reached them and hurried forward.
“This was my mother’s room,” he told her. “And until today, I hadn’t set foot inside it for over fifteen years.”
“Your mother?”
“The duchess’s room,” he corrected. “Down the hall from my own.” He pushed open the doors and Iris expected to be greeted with a dark dwelling, musty and damp from having been closed for years. But that wasn’t even close to what she found.
The curtains were open, as were the windows; the effect was to bathe the room in bright light. The bedding was fresh. The floors were polished. No sense at all that this room had been abandoned.
Iris walked in with hesitation, not certain how she should feel or what this meant. “This is… this is to be my room?”
“It is,” he said. “But that is not the surprise.” From there he hurried to the wardrobe, which was its own separate room extended from the furthest wall.
Philip reached the door and there he paused…
“I have been thinking a lot on the nature of apologies,” he said.
“How important they are. How needed, also. And with that in mind, you and Robert were not the only people who were in need of hearing one.”
“Philip, what are you speaking of?”
He turned back, pumped his eyebrows, and then threw the doors open.
Iris gasped when she saw it. The reason he was so excited. The surprise that he could not wait to give her. And the final little bit of confirmation to prove not only that Philip was willing to change, but that he had already.
The wardrobe was filled with dresses and gowns. Dozens of them. Some she recognized as her own, but many looked to be brand new. She walked forward gingerly, unblinking, as if to look away might see them vanish.
“Is this…”
“I paid the modiste a visit yesterday,” he told her. “It was my thinking that I needed to apologize for how I spoke to her the last time she was here. That, and she still had not finished the job you’d assigned her.”
“You… you did this?” she reached the wardrobe and ran her hands through the dresses. Disbelief written clear across her face. “For me?”
“For me,” Philip clarified. “It’s not about the dresses, Iris.
It’s about…” He sighed. “It’s about not holding onto so much hate.
It brings me nothing and only hurts those I love.
” She was still looking at the dresses, but she heard a tremor in his voice.
“And there is one person in particular whom I love, who I was sick of hurting.”
Iris paused. She could feel Philip standing right behind her. His stare fixed on the back of her head. Hesitation in his voice, the way he was standing suggesting how nervous he was. Both fought again because he was sick of denying what he knew.
“You… you love?” she turned.
“You,” he said, smiling down at her. “I love you, Iris. I have for a while now and…” His smile grew. “I just wish I realized it sooner. But as I am starting to learn, in these instances, it’s better to be late than not say it at all.”
Iris felt her heart swell in her chest with the realization that she loved him too.
Oh, she had known for some time that she loved him.
She had ignored it. She had run from it.
She had feared what it might mean. But hearing Philip finally admit his own feelings, she knew there was no need to cower from it any longer.
“I love you too,” she said, matching his smile. “So very much.”
For a beat, the two lovers simply looked at one another. Smiles growing. Eyes sparkling with tears. The world around them shrinking so that they were the only two who seemed to exist.
And then, as the tension gathered, as the silence grew, as their stares held, Iris did the only thing she could think, the only thing that made any sense. She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Philip’s neck, and kissed him. And he kissed her right back.
It was meant to be a single kiss, a sort of validation of their love. But the moment their lips touched and their bodies came together, Iris knew that a single kiss would not be nearly enough.
The room caught fire as their kiss grew in intensity. Iris’ arms tightened around Philip’s neck and his own hands took her waist and held on as if for dear life. Their mouths moved as if they were trying to devour each other, fighting for supremacy, trying to prove to the other who wanted it more.
Without even realizing that she was doing it, Iris’ arms suddenly dropped from Philip’s neck and grabbed at his pants. She could feel him turn stiff as he pressed his crotch against her and her loins quivered with desire because she knew now what that meant and what she might do with it.
Philip pulled back. “What are you…”
She raised a questioning eyebrow, hands still about his pants. “Is there a problem?”
His grin was wicked. “Not even a little bit.”
They started to kiss again. Philip stepped forward and soon Iris’ body was pressed against the dresses which hung along the wardrobe. They were thick and soft and provided a perfect wall for her to lean against as she managed to undo Philip’s pants and then drop them to the floor.
His manhood sprung free; already hard, already throbbing, already reaching for her. She used both her hands, wrapping them around his girth, relishing the way his body stiffened and the groan that escaped his lips as they continued to kiss without daring to stop.
“Iris…” he somehow moaned between kisses. “You… unh…”
She used both hands to twist and jerk and stroke.
Philip moved his lips down to her neck, biting and nibbling and licking every inch of skin he could reach.
And as he did, as she stroked him, his hands reached down and hastily grabbed at the skirt of her dress, shifting it about her legs and then her thighs.
“I want you,” Philip moaned as he kissed over the nape of her neck, her skirt now pulled up past her thighs. “I need you.”
“What’s stopping you,” she teased him, still holding onto his manhood.
He growled and with both hands lifted her beneath the knees and pressed her body into the hanging dresses.
She cried out, hands still holding his member, legs spread and wrapped around his waist as she was finally forced to let go.
Her hands instead went to his shoulders, holding on and lifting herself up.
Between her thighs, Iris could feel the duke’s member pressed against her leg.
He chuckled as he kissed her and moved his hips, purposefully teasing its tip around her lips without pushing himself inside of her.
She closed her eyes and leaned back, exposing her neck and giving into the pleasure which came from each soft kiss.
And all the while she felt herself grow wet, her womanhood throbbing, her thighs burning, her entire being begging and ready for her husband, the man she loved, to enter her.
“Do it,” she moaned as she continued to tease her.
“Is that an order?” Philip growled as he kissed her neck.
“It is whatever you want it to be…”
He laughed. “Do you think you deserve it…” As he spoke, he thrust his hips forward gently as she felt the tip of his member press against her lips. She gasped and prepared herself, nearly weeping when he pulled away.
“I do,” she begged him. “I deserve it.”
“Why do you deserve it?” he asked her.
Her eyes snapped open, and she flashed them at him.
Hands still on his shoulders. Legs still wrapped around his waist. Iris leaned back, forcing Philip to stop kissing her so he could meet her eyes.
He did so. Held them. They stared into one another’s souls, breathing heavy, silence all about them as the tension built.
“Why do I deserve it?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes. “Because I’m a good girl.”
“No,” he said back with a malevolent grin. “You’re my good girl.” That was when Philip thrust himself forward.
Iris cried out as Philip entered her. She was already so wet. So ready for it. And she opened to him like a flower does to the rising sun. Her legs wrapped his waist tighter, pulling him forward, pressing herself fully into his pelvis as his entire length filled her completely.
They took a few seconds then. Philip inside of her. Iris wrapped around him. Bodies together. Eyes locked in. The feeling that they were both one and the same, together and unbreakable. Man and wife.
Slowly then, Philip began to thrust his hips.
He did so by keeping a hold under her knees, moving her body up and down as he thrust back and forth.
Iris shut her eyes and clenched her jaw and opened herself, pulses of pleasure washing up her body and wrapping her heart, squeezing it so she could hardly breathe.
She felt it everywhere. Her legs. Her chest. Her very soul.
Soon, Philip leaned in and started kissing her on the lips.
She returned the kiss as their thrusts grew faster.
Deeper. More urgent. His hands moved from beneath her legs to her buttocks, squeezing tight as he lifted her up and down on his manhood.
Lifting her as high as he could so she could feel him sliding out of her, only to then pull her down and stretch her out and fill her once again.
Back and forth. Up and down. Back and forth. Up and down.
Their breathing grew heavier. They tried to kiss, but were both taken by the intensity of the moment. The need to pull back and focus on their movements and succumb to the pleasure that enveloped them both so that they felt it as one.
This was different from the last time.
It took Iris a little while to understand why that was exactly.
It wasn’t more pleasurable; it was the same as before, which was to say it felt amazing.
It wasn’t less awkward, because she had taken to it the last time as if it was a natural thing.
Rather, it was more… right-feeling? Final.
No more guilt surrounding her. No more worrying about what this might mean.
No longer thinking about the past as now all she cared about was the future.
And it was a future that looked very bright indeed. Just as it felt damn near indescribable.
Philip was still thrusting deep inside of her. Each time he did, she felt that pleasure spike at her. And as she had expected, as she had hoped, with it came the explosion that was all consuming.
“Philip…” she panted heavily. “I’m…”
“Me too,” Philip said, his breathing just as heavy, his thrust increasing in speed. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“I am.” She forced herself to keep her eyes open, locking in on Philip. He did the same, holding her stare as his body started to tremble.
It came on her then. Starting between her thighs. Rushing up her body. Spreading quickly, intensely, tearing her apart so she wanted to scream. Which she did, but not until she felt Philip empty himself inside of her.
“Philip!” she cried out as her husband’s seed filled her and her own body erupted from the pleasure.
“Iris!” he joined in, pulling her back into him, wrapping his arms around her body, holding her close and burying his head in her neck as his knees shook.
Iris kept her legs wrapped around Philip’s waist, refusing to let go. She squirmed and she writhed and she spasmed. She wanted to cry. She wanted to shout. But in the end, most strangely, she laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Philip asked through deep breaths.
She shook her head. “I have no idea. It just felt right to do.”
Philip rolled his eyes but then started to laugh along with her. And for a few seconds, still in the wardrobe, still entwined, Iris and Philip laughed together. Not because anything funny was said. More as if it was needed to expel any final remnants of negative energy that remained.
They were man and wife. They were deeply in love. They had their entire future ahead of them, and Iris could say now without fear that it was a future that looked bright.
She had often wondered as a little girl if she would get her happily ever after.
For a time there, she had feared that she would not.
But as she and Philip laughed together, as she then started to kiss him, as he kissed her back with adoration and love, she knew without question that not only was she going to get it, but that she was already living it.
Her happily ever after had arrived the day she married Philip. And now that she was ready to accept it, she was just as ready for what might come next.