Chapter 17 #2
The mention of his family had his shoulders slumping in apparent defeat. It was as if she had intruded upon his most private thoughts and brought them out and into the open. His eyes went down to the floor.
“Of course you are not insignificant. You are far from it, Duchess. You have become everything to a man who is trying to survive.”
Even as he hid his face from her, Daphne knew that the wall had crashed down. He was vulnerable in front of her, speaking with her as neither the Duke nor the Wolf.
He was finally Adrian.
Daphne approached him and cupped his face between her soft, warm palms. His skin felt cold and clammy, as if he was fighting off an illness.
“Stop carrying your burdens alone, Your Grace,” she said softly.
“The circumstances in which we were married may not have been ideal, but I am still your wife. I am not afraid of your darkness because I have my own scars. I married the man who teased me on the way to the Reverend’s house.
That was the man in the light. Now, you have just told me about your gaming hells and your life in the shadows.
I am still here. I will not leave you. Let me protect you for once. ”
His breath hitched as he covered her hands with his rough ones.
“My mother was called Emmeline,” he said hoarsely.
“She was a quiet and fiercely intelligent woman. You remind me of her in that regard. Her laughter was like music. She loved the sea and the stars, too. She would take me to the garden at night to watch the stars. My father did not like these expeditions.”
Daphne’s heart clenched as she saw the ghost of a smile on his lips. It was beautiful and fleeting, just like his mother’s life. He was not finished yet. He paused and looked into the distance, at a spot somewhere to his right.
“My sister was named Cassandra. She was beautiful and fiery. Impatient. She made me laugh and drew me pictures of wolves. Even then, she said that they reminded her of me.”
A tear rolled down Daphne’s cheek. She knew the value of family.
She could not imagine losing Victoria or any of their other sisters, or even their brother Daniel.
She might not like the way her mother handled her affairs, but she would still mourn her.
When her father, the late Marquess of Grisham, died, she went through a period of despair.
Yes, she was happy she didn’t have to fear his cane, but she still mourned.
She mourned the man that he was, and the man that he should have been.
“I wish I could speak well of my father,” Adrian said, his voice low and unflinching.
“But the truth is, he was a fool and a coward. A man who gambled away his fortune and his honor. His debts drew wolves to our door long before I ever became one.” He paused, his jaw tightening as the memories clawed their way back.
“One of those men was Mortlake, the former owner of the Obsidian Card. My father thought he could outwit him. Instead, Mortlake sent his men to our home.”
His tone darkened, until it was almost guttural. This was the first time Daphne had ever heard the name Mortlake and yet it seemed as if this man had been the source of so much of Adrian’s pain.
“I woke to the sound of my mother screaming. My sister’s cry.
I saw the blood. I saw them die. And I could do nothing.
” He laughed bitterly. “The men were still there, beating my father to a pulp, and I, God help me, I was too young to stop them. Too weak. When it was over, he called it a robbery gone wrong. He wouldn’t even name the man who ordered the attack.
He was too ashamed to face what his own recklessness had caused. ”
Adrian’s hand clenched into a fist. “So, I did what he could not. I made sure Mortlake paid. And I swore I’d never be that helpless boy again.”
“I—I am so sorry, Your Grace,” Daphne whispered, covering her mouth. Her tears were flowing in earnest at this point.
“Don’t be. It was not your fault. My father sent me off to Cambridge and then to the Continent. He could not face me, then. I knew what he was like as a man. I was twenty-two when he died. I vowed not to be as weak as him. Within a year, I was able to restore the duchy’s fortune and influence.”
“Is that how you obtained the Obsidian Card?” Daphne asked, dreading what he was going to say next.
“Oh, no. It was not that easy. Using my title as a Duke, I was able to follow Mr. Mortlake’s trail of crimes and had the authorities get hold of enough evidence to send my sister’s and mother’s murderers to prison.
Then, I bought out Mortlake’s debts and bribed his investors.
I did not stop until he was destitute and I became the owner of his gaming hell. ”
The confession hung heavily between them. Daphne now understood the roots of his rage and loneliness. Still, she didn’t want to offer empty reassurances, but she could offer something else. Herself.
She let go of his face and wrapped her arms tightly around him. He was much bigger, but she wished she could safeguard him, too, the way he promised to protect her.
Now she knew what it was like for him. He had lost people violently to men like Briarwood.
Adrian let himself be caught up in her embrace, burying his face in the curve between her neck and shoulder. Daphne felt him cling to her more tightly as if she had become the anchor.
When he pulled back, his eyes were on her mouth. The desperate tension between them exploded into something else. Grief became something akin to desire, raw but more than just lust. His mouth claimed hers in a possessive kiss, tender and urgent at the same time.
Daphne was not afraid of him. She shed her self-preservation and gave in completely, kissing him back with the same fierce passion.
Her lips parted willingly, letting his tongue inside her mouth.
Tasting him. Feeling his warmth on hers.
She gripped his shirt and pulled him closer.
She wanted more of him and did not know how to make that happen.
The kiss was a conversation and Adrian groaned with relief and surrender, a feeling she shared. He broke the kiss, leaving her gasping. The heat simmered once more when she realized he meant to devour her, as he left open-mouthed kisses down her throat, licking at her pulse there.
“Daphne. Duchess,” he breathed brokenly but reverently. “I need you. You do not know how much I do.”
“I know,” she gasped, as her fingers unfastened the buttons of his shirt.
Her movements were desperate, making some buttons pop and fall to the floor. He chuckled.
The Duchess tore the shirt from his shoulders, letting her eyes feast on his well-defined muscles. She placed her palms on his chest, reveling at how solid and powerful he felt beneath her touch.
Adrian was becoming impatient, lifting her in his arms, and kissing her senselessly. His hunger reflected her own.
“Not here,” he grunted, as he lifted her up in his arms.
She giggled when he ran up to where their bedchambers were, with her in his arms while her arms clung tightly around his neck for dear life.
He laughed, as well, a low rumble that made her heart rejoice.
She liked seeing this side of the man she’d married.
They could be passionate and in good humor at the same time.
As the door to his bedchamber slammed behind them, all hilarity was gone. All that was left was their need for each other. He lowered her to his bed then knelt between her legs. Her knees shook.
Was it not what she wanted all along? She remembered how he had made her find her release and left her. She had felt incomplete.
He kissed her again, even as his hands moved over her body. Her hips undulated, taking on a rhythm of their own, seeking his heat.
“Are you certain?” he asked.
The Wolf did not look too smug then, his face filling with a different kind of uncertainty.
The beautiful specimen of a man was afraid of rejection, and it made her ache for him even more.
She knew that he was a man who had many lovers before her, but here he was, asking for permission and not even sure he would get it.
“Yes,” she whispered.
So, he brought his mouth back to her, kissing her more deeply. She moaned, only now just finding out how a kiss could make the whole body feel like it was on fire.
He began to remove the pieces of her clothing, his fingers moving with practiced skill. A spark of jealousy popped into her mind, as she processed how he was removing her clothes with ease. But then again, she also felt raw urgency too and that was thrilling.
Did he feel different with her compared to all the other women?
She could only hope.
Soon, her dress was being pulled down her waist, leaving her in her thin chemise. Adrian’s breath caught even though she was not even naked yet. Then came the frenzy of pulling down and pulling up until she was bare before him.
“You are beautiful, Duchess,” he whispered against her skin, with just enough wonder in his voice to make her sob.
Daphne would not be able to forget the worshipful look on his face even if she tried. His dark eyes devoured her. His words had seemed more like a vow and a promise, and not just a compliment.
Adrian proceeded with his mouth, lowering himself to leave a trail of kisses from her collarbone to her breasts.
He took a nipple into his mouth and sucked hard.
Her back arched off the bed, as her body felt the shock of the delicious onslaught.
His tongue laved at her breasts relentlessly, stopping to suck hard and soothe again.
He suckled her as if he were ravenous for her.
Her toes curled and her core clenched around nothing.
His calloused hand mapped her skin, moving down to her belly and onto her hip.
The journey was deliberate and she knew, even then, where his fingers would land.
They found the slick between her legs, and she eagerly opened to give him access.
He groaned at what he found there, even as his fingers eased into her.
“You are so wet for me, Daphne,” he murmured against her nipple. “So ready for me.”
“I… I want you, Adrian,” she whispered.
There had never been anyone else before him, and she could not imagine anyone else after him.
Adrian took her moisture and spread it up to her nub, circling the sensitive spot over and over until she was panting.
More…
She burned for more.
It was as if he could read her mind. His thumb continued to circle her nub as two fingers entered her.
In and out. In and out.
He continued torturing her with his fingers even as he sucked her nipple again, drawing in as much as he could. Devouring her.
Her head thrashed against the pillows, as the pleasure mounted and the pressure in her lower belly increased. She was so close to that precipice he introduced to her one time.
Yes. Again.
“Please,” she begged. “I want you. Not your hand. You.”
He growled as he shifted above her, balancing his weight on his elbows. She watched him discard his trousers, revealing his hard length. He was fully aroused and magnificent, sending a shiver of fear and pleasure through her. This man was hers.
Adrian finally settled between her thighs, his tip pressing against her wet entrance. For a moment, she glimpsed the uncertainty rising in those amber eyes again, as if he were the one who needed reassurance.
Daphne wrapped her legs around his hips in response, pulling him closer to her.
“Yes. Yes! Please.”
He pushed inside, inch by inch. She held her breath, waiting for the searing pain. At first, she felt full. She felt stretched as he claimed her until he was seated to the hilt. Then, there was a sharp sensation that made her mouth gape open—not pain exactly. It was brief, but it made him still.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, sounding strained.
Sweat beaded on his temples as he tried to maintain control.
“A little,” she admitted, but then, the sting was already fading. It was slowly being replaced by the feeling of being full. Being complete. “But don’t stop.”
The Duke began to move inside her in slow, but powerful strokes that made her whimper.
It seemed that he knew just where to direct his movements.
She gasped every time he hit somewhere that made something explode with pleasure within her.
Each thrust made him go deeper within her.
Her hips responded as she became familiar with his rhythm and she held on to his arms tightly.
As their pleasure grew and their breathing became more ragged, the slow pace became something else.
Harder and deeper. This time, each thrust drove further up the bed.
Her vision blurred. She could no longer think beyond the moment of him pounding into her and the sound of skin slapping on skin.
The room became filled with their hungry pants.
He was taking her to the precipice once more, with every thrust and even with every sound.
She squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure.
“Open your eyes, Daphne,” he commanded, even as his voice became desperate. “I want to see you. I want you to see me.”
Her eyes immediately fluttered open. The eye contact made everything else more intense.
He was not only plundering her body but also easing into her soul.
His face contorted, as if in pain, but she knew better now.
Her body was squeezing him, giving him undeniable pleasure.
She knew that he was nearing his own release.
Adrian drove harder and deeper, one hand fondling her breasts. Rubbing her nipples. She was soon undone, her climax tearing through her body. Her inner walls convulsed, squeezing around him as he followed her release with his own.
Still, he drove into her one more time, making her cry out, her sensitive core clenching around him again and again.