Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
It was a savage and desperate kiss, taking his breath and being. There was nothing in control of it.
Richard’s mouth was demanding and fierce, and he was relieved to feel her willingly give.
She was kissing him back. A woman with limited experience, Victoria was just as relentless, her hands gripping his hair by the nape of his neck.
It seemed like they had been carrying a heavy tension throughout these past few weeks.
They had shared fear and small, intimate moments while caring for Melody.
All of these things they carried exploded into something else—passion.
A guttural sound escaped his mouth, his breath mingling with hers, as they broke the kiss momentarily.
His hands moved from her face to her waist, holding her hard against his chest. He could feel her curves through her thin, sapphire gown.
His heart hammered in his chest, and he swore that she could hear every beat.
“I cannot think clearly when I am with you, Victoria,” he groaned, before releasing her onto her seat and dropping to his knees on the carriage floor.
Richard remained where he was, kneeling before her, and let himself look at her properly. From this angle, she was all the more striking with her hands braced lightly at her sides, her breath unsteady despite her effort at composure, the faintest color rising in her cheeks.
Desire stirred, hot and hungry. He admired her with the attention she deserved, as though committing her to memory: the way her skirts fell over her knees, the anticipation in her posture, the trust she placed in him simply by allowing him to remain there.
He lifted his gaze to her face, seeking her eyes before daring anything further. There was uncertainty there, yes, but want as well, unmistakable and bright.
“You have no notion,” Richard murmured, his voice low, almost fond, “of what you do to me when you look at me so.”
The Duke waited.
Her eyes widened, and after a breath’s pause, she nodded.
Then, he bent his head closer to her.
It started with one little lick at her seam. She gasped, clutching the sides of the carriage. He found her nub of pleasure and focused his energy on it, licking until it was hard and ready for him to suck.
When he began sucking her clit, she let out a yelp, and even though the narrow space and the volumes of her skirt, he looked up to see that she had bitten her lower lip to keep herself from screaming.
“Heavens, you look magnificent, Victoria. All undone…just for me,” he managed to murmur, and desire throbbed low in his body, burning to see her fall completely apart.
As he continued lavishing her, Richard sensed the carriage becoming thick with tension and her lovely scent.
He focused on her pleasure—on giving her what she deserved.
His fingers joined in his worship, seeking entrance into her, moving in and out of her.
He let her wet heat coat his fingers, making it easier to move into her tight core.
Victoria was panting now, her face flushed. She covers her mouth with the back of her hand, clearly trying to stifle the sound.
Oh, how he wished he could hear her cries of pleasure fully. To carve them into his mind.
His tongue was focused and insistent. Methodical, even. She made it so easy with her taste and scent. Her pleasure became his, his erection between his legs, heavy and insistent.
But tonight was her night. All he wanted to do was make her scream with pleasure. It did not matter if anyone could hear. She was his. He was hers.
Victoria’s head fell back, and a small cry escaped her lips. A moan. She was so close. So close. Her finger dug into the velvet while his fingers continued to pleasure her, spreading her, preparing her for another time. For himself.
“I could feast on you like this all day,” he breathed between licks, “and hearing your delicious moans.”
He watched her with pride. He did that to her, making her eyes squeeze shut even as his tongue lashed her clit and his fingers massaged her walls.
Victoria cried out as her body shook from pleasure. She did not know that sexual pleasure could feel like this. Her body felt like it had a mind of its own, her hips arching from the seat as she felt herself clench around Richard’s fingers.
Then, everything seemed to go to a standstill. He slipped his fingers out of her, and she felt satiated and empty at the same time.
He did not retreat from her at once. Instead, Richard paused, his gaze lingering on her as though he were still taking her measure.
“So exquisite,” he said quietly, with a faint, knowing smile.
Warmth rushed to her cheeks before she could stop it. She let out a long breath.
“I—” Her voice faltered, then steadied. “I had no idea it could feel like that.”
Something softened in his expression at that. He lifted a hand and brushed his thumb along her cheek, an unhurried, familiar touch that grounded her far more than words could have. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to the space between them.
Then the carriage slowed. The shift of motion broke the spell, and the house came into view, quiet and imposing in the distance.
“We are approaching the house,” Richard murmured as he straightened himself in his seat as if nothing happened. True enough, the carriage seemed to have slowed down until it halted. “It is so silent seeing it from here. I never thought of it before.”
Victoria smoothed her gown down, her fingers still trembling from the impact of her orgasm. The chilly night could only be partly responsible for the shaking. It wasn’t the cold that she was reacting to, but the heat that she and Richard shared.
“Silence. Yes. The house has gotten used to isolation. It is just coming alive now. Melody is somewhere there, waiting for us. But here, everything sounds so quiet,” she said thoughtfully.
When the carriage came to a full halt, the duke stepped out first. Victoria let her eyes linger on his tall frame, the light catching the angles of his shoulders.
A part of her wanted to reach for him again, to let the heat of the moment spill over, but she folded her hands in her lap instead, letting a faint, secret smile tug at her lips.
She was still simmering with what they had shared, but the moment was gone now, and they had to return home.
To Melody.
Richard reached out for her hand, and she rested hers in his, letting his large hand envelop her. Despite everything, he made her feel safe. With a firm but gentle grip, he helped her down. She flushed when he rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. The touch was soft, suggestive, but also protective.
Someone who might know them well enough would notice the difference in their demeanor as they entered the foyer side by side. Mr. Hawthorne quickly received them. He gave a low bow.
“Your Graces, welcome home. It’s good to see you safely back. The house is already settled for the night.”
It was a quick report, nothing out of the ordinary. Yet, Victoria felt everything deeply: Hawthorne’s voice, Richard’s proximity, the chill from the door behind them, and the scent of vanilla and candle wax. It was like she had just become alive.
“Thank you, Hawthorne,” Richard replied, giving a small nod, but walking past with Victoria’s hand in his. “We require nothing else further. You may inform the staff that they are dismissed and may rest throughout the night. Thank them for me for a day well done.”
“Very well, Your Grace,” the butler said, giving them another respectful bow.
They walked up the grand staircase, still holding each other’s hands.
They climbed in sync, with Victoria’s heels clicking and Richard’s boots making dull, heavy thuds, seemingly creating a rhythm.
Music. Once upon a time, she’d dismissed them as a disturbance, especially against the late-night quiet at Hawksford.
She paused at the nursery door and could not help but smile. Who knew she would be fond of a child not related to her by blood? Even her family had thought she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body.
The door was slightly ajar. Inside the room, it was dimly lit, although the room was warm enough for Melody.
Mrs. Hughes dozed off in a rocking chair close to the baby’s bassinet, ready for any cry during the night.
The little infant was sound asleep, looking delicate underneath her knitted blanket. Her breathing was rhythmic and shallow.
Before Victoria entered the room, she left her shoes by the doorway.
Richard watched her with a small smile. She turned quickly enough to see it, and she smiled back.
Then, she proceeded to the bassinet. She just wanted to see Melody up close before she slept.
She leaned over, strands of her blonde hair escaping and hanging a few inches over the child.
She reached out to smooth the baby’s won dark curls from her forehead.
Melody responded by sighing softly in her sleep.
Richard stood behind her. She didn’t even hear him approach. He was stealthier than she thought he’d be. His presence was warm and comforting, and she liked him so close behind her back, with his body heat reaching her.
“She’s safe,” Victoria whispered. “She’s beautiful. Look at her. Those little, chubby cheeks.’”
“She’s safe. She’s beautiful. As are you,” Richard agreed, his voice sounding hoarse.
He inched closer, bending a little so that she could feel his warm breath against her ear. His hand had rested on her hip, burning through the fabric with his touch.
“Come. Let’s rest. Melody will be fine.”
They walked to her chambers. There were no more words. It was like an unspoken agreement that both of them would be heading into her room.
“Ugh,” he exclaimed.
“What is it?”
“I told Hawthorne to let everyone rest. Now, I remember something.”
“What something?” she asked, curious.
Instead of answering her with words, Richard went for the bell pull to summon his valet, John.