Chapter 8 #2
Her body felt as though fireworks were alight inside her and her intimate areas were growing wetter.
She had had this happen before but only with Oliver near and in her dream.
The man must be a wizard. His hand shifted to the very center of her special place and the heat from his palm both calmed and excited her.
His finger moved and his other hand squeezed her breast. Oh, the sensations were scandalous.
These feelings could not be allowed, surely.
“Oliver.”
He patted her very center drawing a swift intake of breath. “Naughty girl. Who am I?”
“Daddy?”
“Yes. This is your Daddy helping you feel better.”
His hands moved with a gentle confidence that made Lilli’s breath catch. The sensation of his touch against her most intimate place sent tingles racing up her spine. It was different from the sting that still radiated across her bottom. More pleasant. More insistent. More... everything.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice deeper than before. “Let Daddy make you feel like my good girl.”
Lilli’s eyes fluttered closed as his fingers traced delicate circles.
Heat pooled low in her belly, spreading outward in waves that made her toes curl against the bedsheets.
She had never imagined such sensations were possible, had never known her body could respond this way to another’s touch. Except in her dream.
“I... oh!” The words died on her lips as his thumb pressed more firmly, finding a spot that made her hips buck involuntarily.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly. “I want to see your face when you come undone for me.”
Lilli’s eyes opened, meeting his intense gaze.
His storm-gray eyes had darkened, pupils dilated as he watched her reactions.
She felt exposed, vulnerable in a way that went beyond her state of undress.
Yet there was something thrilling about the way he studied her, as if memorizing every flutter of her eyelashes, every quickened breath.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” she whispered, her voice catching as his fingers continued their gentle assault on her senses.
“Your body does,” he replied, his lips curving into a smile that made her heart stutter. “Trust it. Trust me.”
The pressure built inside her a tightening coil that demanded release.
Her hips moved of their own accord, seeking something she could not name.
Oliver, no, Daddy, seemed to know precisely what she needed, adjusting his rhythm to match the arching of her back, the tightening of her thighs around his hand.
His other hand caressed her breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak that had hardened beneath his touch.
Something was building inside her, a wave growing higher and higher.
Lilli clutched at his shoulders, her fingernails digging into the fine fabric of his shirt.
The pressure continued to mount, her breathing becoming ragged, shallow.
She felt herself climbing toward some unknown peak, guided by his touch.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go for me,” he encouraged, his voice a velvet rumble against her ear.
The tension crested, and Lilli cried out as pleasure unlike anything she had ever known crashed through her in waves. Her body shuddered, her mind emptying of everything except sensation. Daddy held her through it, his steady presence an anchor as she trembled beneath his hands.
When the last tremors subsided, Lilli blinked up at him in wonder.
Her body felt languid, heavy with satisfaction she had not known was possible.
Did her duke possess powers beyond mortal man?
Her duke? Yes, she wanted him even as she didn’t want him.
Faults? He had plenty but his ability to bring her to this level of satiation more than made up for his shortcomings.
The sting of her spanking had indeed been forgotten, replaced by this new wonder at the magic of her Daddy’s hands. How was she to untangle these feelings?
“Beautiful,” he whispered as she gradually returned to herself. “Nap. You need to replenish your strength. We leave early in the morning, and it will be important that you are well rested.”
She was satiated and still restless. What was this confusion? Sleep dragged her under before she could decipher it all.
“Oliver, can we not look a bit further?” begged Lilli.
A nap, after her first forage into womanly, wifely pleasures, left Lilli more relaxed, more emboldened in her interactions with Oliver.
She knew there was more, but one must be married to experience those things.
She had all she could deal with for now.
“No,” said Oliver. His frustration was close to the surface.
“But…”
“Enough, Lilliana! We are going home. I have an estate to attend to and a wayward woman to keep out of trouble, who also has a home that needs her attention. Now, not another word or I will start on your sitting side again for double the count.” That was enough of a threat to stop her protests.
“That’s mean, Daddy.”
He smiled but said nothing in response.
The afternoon crawled by with the weight of exhaustion pressing down on Lilliana’s shoulders, her nerves frayed to threads by her relentless warring thoughts of being angry that she could not continue her journey and relief that she didn’t have a choice.
She must return home. Her guardian demanded it.
With the uncertainty and the lingering memory of what Oliver could do with her body, the tension was high.
Every glance he cast her way seemed both a challenge and a plea, a dare to defy him, but also, perhaps, a hope for her surrender.
Why does he haunt me so? Each word, each look, is a battle. I’m bone-tired, heart-sore, and yearning for the comfort of home. But even listening to my own desires of home, the thought of returning feels like defeat, like yielding to the Duke’s inevitable decree I must follow. A loss of my autonomy.
Confused helplessness pooled in her chest, bitter and vast. Smothering her.
How could she go back and explain her failures, cloak them in excuses, and face the accusation in her own reflection?
She knew, with a dreadful certainty, that the duke would not hesitate to insist upon it.
The indecision burned in her belly as her heart burned for his dominance.
Dinner was a quiet truce, but every shared glance was a reminder of what simmered beneath the surface: unspoken fears, stubborn pride, and a longing for peace neither of them would admit—and desire.
When they returned to their room, she was faced again with the single bed.
It felt like a battleground she could not enter.
She curled up in the old, overstuffed chair in the corner, pulling the worn blanket around herself and listening to the muffled sounds of Oliver tending to his men and horses below her window.
He seemed to take care of everyone, and quite well.
She was irrationally thankful she was one of those he watched over.
Loneliness pressed against her like a physical force.
She drifted into uneasy dreams, haunted by memories of her mother and father’s laughter and the echoing emptiness they had left behind.
One by force, one by choice. Then there was Oliver, dashing and capable, just as in real life, swooping in to save her from the bumblebroth that was her life. Lilli just wanted peace.
When strong arms gathered her up and placed her on the bed, they pulled her close to cradle her in sleep.
She clung to the warmth, desperate for comfort, even if it was only an illusion conjured by her weary mind.
Her final thought before drifting back into her dreams was how much she wanted to be Oliver’s.