Chapter 16
HEALING PROCESS
Hearing the Duke say that they would deal with this together somehow made Marigold’s heart unsteady. She knew that he would support her, but it was different to see him do so with a look in his eyes that she had never seen.
“Thank you,” she said.
The tension of her fear and her anguish somehow washed away. She still had echoes of the intense feelings that they had inflicted upon her, but other feelings came over her, more urgent and insistent.
She became aware she was sitting too close to him, shirtless as he was.
Her clinical look shifted, and now, she looked upon the Duke in a very different way.
Her hands were still displayed over his chest, not examining anymore if he had broken something, but feeling the velvet steel of his muscles and soft skin.
A sigh that almost sounded needy escaped her lips. He replied by sitting up, bringing his face closer to hers.
“Are you still angry at me?”
His breath fanned her cheeks, turning the small fire inside her into a blaze. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she couldn’t control her heartbeat.
“Look at me, sweetheart,” he demanded.
She obeyed instantly. There was something inside of her that snapped each time he ordered her. It was not fear or discipline. It was a deep need to make him happy while she thrived on his approval.
“Good girl,” he purred. “Tell me, are you still angry at me?”
For the life of her, she couldn’t even remember why she was angry in the first place. There was no way for her to form words, so she just shook her head.
“Good. That’s good,” he whispered, leaning forward.
She found herself tilting her head just right, just the way she knew would make the kiss deeper. And deeper it was. Hungry and desperate, his tongue demanded instant access to her, tasting her, exploring her mouth, teasing her tongue again and again.
His fingers slid down and found the tie of her robe. He stopped and pulled back a little, looking at her, asking for permission. Her response was to untie the rope herself and push it off her shoulders, feeling it pulled behind her.
“Good job, sweetheart,” he said, and his thumb brushed her collarbone.
With one sudden move, he pulled her down onto her back on the mattress. Despite his injured body, he propped himself on one elbow beside her.
“You did such a good job taking care of me,” he murmured. “Now, it’s my turn.”
He traced his fingers down the thin fabric of her nightgown, and Marigold exhaled sharply just from this touch.
“I do not particularly like this nightgown, sweetheart,” he said.
Before Marigold had time to decipher the meaning of his words, he used both hands to tear the nightgown apart from her body, throwing it like a rag on the floor. And she didn’t even care.
“Look at you on my bed.”
His fingers traced skin from her neck down between her breasts to her stomach then her thighs, up again, soft and feathered.
“Do you like that, sweetheart?”
Marigold was completely given to the sensation, allowing herself to feel every little touch. But it stopped.
“I asked you a question, Marigold.” His voice was darker. “And when I ask you a question, you will answer.”
Marigold looked up at him, stunned. His tone was not harsh, and she felt exactly what she needed to do to make him happy.
“I like your touch.”
“There you go. Tell me what you like.”
He rewarded her with one soft caress over her breast, his thumb rolling over her nipple.
Marigold moaned softly, and she somehow found it in her to look up into his eyes. He was fixated on where he was touching her, but when he felt her look on him, he concentrated on her.
“Do you want me to touch you more, sweetheart?”
Marigold nodded frantically. He chuckled, satisfied, and leaned closer to her.
“Use your words, Marigold. Tell me what you need,” he demanded. “And if you’re a good girl, I might just give it to you.”
“Please,” she breathed, “touch me more.”
A content groan vibrated from his body to hers.
His fingers moved over her stomach and grazed her bare thigh.
She felt some kind of loss when he abandoned the peak of her breasts, but it didn’t last long.
He leaned in and darted his tongue out. He circled her taut nipple before taking it in his mouth.
“Like this?” he teased.
Marigold raised her arm and allowed her fingers to go through his hair, lightly keeping him where she needed him. He bit lightly on her breast.
“I asked the question, Marigold.”
“Yes,” she protested. “Like this, but I need more.”
“Listen to you begging me for more,” he spoke, and his lips touched her sensitive skin. “You’re doing such a good job. Do you want me to reward you?”
“Please, yes, please.”
Marigold was almost losing her mind. She wanted to sit absolutely still and at the same time writhe and grind.
“Good girls that beg like this deserve a reward. Tell me what you need.”
Marigold blushed. He was asking her to name her desire, but the years of suppression and conditioning would not allow her to utter such words. But at the same time, pleasure was right there within her grasp, that intense feeling every time he touched her, and all she needed to do was ask.
“Please touch me there. I am burning for you.”
The Duke leaned in with that low growl to her ear. He sucked on her earlobe and licked the skin behind her ear.
“That’s my good girl,” he whispered, his words more exhilarating than his touches.
He felt his hand travel higher up her thigh, caressing her stomach, over her hip, and down to the other side.
“Open your legs for me,” he hummed.
Marigold instinctively drew her knees up and threw her legs open. She was completely exposed to him, and yet she felt no shame. She felt him shift over her, and when she looked up, she saw him taking her naked body in, focusing on her core, wet and glistening as it was.
“You are so responsive to my touch,” he said in a low, heavy voice. “You’re already wet for me. You’re doing such a good job.”
His hand moved higher onto her thighs, and Marigold couldn’t help but shiver. He was taking it slow, teasing her, prolonging her agony but also her ecstasy at the same time, so she didn’t complain. He would reward her, and she would patiently wait for it.
“Yes, that’s it,” he said, as if guessing her thoughts. “That’s exactly what good girls do.”
His fingers found the place between her legs, sliding over slowly.
“Aah!”
A deep jolt took over her body, as if his touch was too much to handle. His firm hand pinned her down onto the mattress, and his lips kissed her neck down her collarbone.
Instantly, her body relaxed onto the soft mattress, relaxing into his touch.
“Good girl,” he murmured over his skin.
His mouth returned to her breasts, his tongue bending around her peak, licking and kissing. She couldn’t even control her body. Her chest rose to meet his mouth, and her hips towards his hand.
He didn’t make her wait anymore. One deft finger found the small nub at the center of her core and encircled it softly.
“Yes!” she cried out.
“I believe My Duchess likes that,” he chuckled against her needy breast. “Should I keep doing that?”
“Yes, please don’t stop.”
“That’s my girl,” he cooed. “That’s my good girl.”
Her breaths came faster, and she gripped the bed sheets, completely out of control as his fingers kept going over and over that little bundle of nerves.
“There you are,” he praised. “You’re doing so well.”
His touch became more insistent as he increased the pressure. The sensations were almost too much for her to bear, and yet she didn’t want to stop. She knew exactly what pleasure laid ahead, and she chased that.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“You like that?” he moaned.
“I do. I like it.”
Marigold looked up into his eyes, even darker now.
His pupils were wide, his breath coming in swallows, his face tense.
She dared look down at his lips, and he didn’t need another invite.
He brushed his tongue over hers tentatively, making her moan lowly.
That made something inside him snap. With a growl, the kiss shifted into a ravaging plunder, drinking her in, stealing her breath.
And all the while, his fingers moved purposefully, taking her higher to the crest of a wave that would drown her in pleasure.
“You are doing so well,” he purred over her lips. “That’s it.”
“Oh, this is…” Marigold felt like losing her mind.
He increased the pressure, nibbling on her neck. Marigold sighed deeply, her breath coming in moaning pants. One hand held onto his arm that gave her such pleasure, and the other tangled in his hair.
“You are almost there. I can feel it,” he groaned.
“This feels so good,” Marigold admitted.
“Listen to you, so needy,” he chuckled, kissing her neck. “Such a responsive, good girl.”
The climb came higher and higher as her toes curled and her fingers dipped into his skin.
“Let go, sweetheart,” he ordered. “I have you. Let go for me.”
“Oh, I…” She moaned loudly.
“Be a good girl for me, and let go, Marigold.”
She couldn’t resist his command. Her body obeyed him like a strung instrument, and she snapped. She shattered around him, her core pulsing deliciously.
“Brandon!” she screamed his name.
“That’s it,” he praised. “There she is, my good, good girl. You look so beautiful when you come apart, sweetheart.”
Her body fell back onto the pillows, trembling with the aftershocks of the intense pleasure. He leaned and kissed her forehead, her cheek, the side of her lips. And all the while, the Duke fumbled with the bed covers, trying to cover her.
“Sleep here. I destroyed your nightgown,” he said, satisfied like a child, proud of his mischief. “I will buy you more.”
He fell back on his back, adjusting himself in his breeches. Marigold looked at him, his face tensing from the pain and the discomfort, trying to ease his breath. She sat up and knelt on her knees by his side.
“What are you doing?” he asked.