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 visionblurred. 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.
Chapter Eighteen
The unforgiving rigidity that defined Wolfcrest for years did not vanish in that one night of passion. However, it did fracture into millions of pieces. Something solid and certain also manifested after that shared intimacy: the door separating their chambers being permanently open.
No more walls.
No more boundaries.
At least, not between them.
The changes in Wolfcrest were tangible. Adrian no longer rose before dawn to retreat to his study, nor did he return home so late after his nocturnal responsibilities were done. Instead, they slept and woke at about the same time. It was getting more difficult for him to leave her.
Whenever the sun rose in the morning, he no longer immediately pulled away. Instead, he would tighten his grip on her waist and bury his face in her neck. Waking up to her scent was now his favorite thing in the world, next to making love whenever they could.
“I want to stay here,” he murmured one morning, as she took him inside her and rode him gently, as if to wake them up.
“I’d like that,” she said, as she lowered herself on him once more. Her words sounded like sighs. “But the world needs us, especially you, the Duke of Wolfcrest.”
“The world can wait,” he said, before pulling her down so that her back was on the bed and he could control his thrusts better.
She agreed with her moans, as he moved in and out of her faster. He loved how she clenched around him, pulling him in. So tight. He loved how responsive she was and how she would bite his shoulder to keep herself from screaming.
“Let them hear, darling,” he urged.
“No. Yes. No,” she responded, confused, and pleasured, until she reached her release once more.
The languid mornings had become part of their routine. They could enjoy moments of slow lovemaking or frenzied sessions, but they always ended up sated before breakfast and after dinner, and sometimes, in-between.
The afternoons they stayed at home, Adrian would make sure he checked on her as she read or navigated the halls of Wolfcrest, always finding things to do. However, the true honeymoon was not just in their frequent, intense activities in the bedchamber but also in their melding of minds, through sharing their stories.
“I do not really enjoy playing cards,” he admitted one night as they sat in the drawing room together. His wife stilled her hand because she had been on the verge of dealing another round of Vingt-et-un.
“You do not like card games?” Daphne laughed lightly. “How is that possible?”
Adrian shrugged. “My father squandered our family fortune at a card table.”
