Page 56 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

“Oh, you please me, Marigold. Let me teach you more.”

He was beyond words, so he showed her instead. His hand covered hers, showing her the rhythm he liked.

“Open your mouth for me, Marigold.”

She did as told, a surge of power and desire erupting inside her. Caressing her jaw, he guided her closer to his hardness, just enough to swallow more of him.

“Yes, that’s it.” His reaction was raw desire. “You are doing so well. Look at you, taking care of me. Such good care. Mmm.”

Marigold felt him twitch in her hand and let out a moan. She didn’t know a lot about things like this, but she could see in his body and face the same bliss that washed over her when she reached her crest of pleasure.

“I am close,” he warned her. “Just…”

A low moan echoed in the room. His body coiled tight, his muscles straining, and Marigold watched in fascination.

“Marigold!”

The tension snapped, and the Duke pulled her back by her neck, not painfully but firmly. She was ready to protest when she saw him shatter, his body arching in a final reach. He finally succumbed, his heat spilling onto her hands.

His body collapsed back onto his pillows, panting only for a moment. When his breath calmed down, he looked at her with wonder in his eyes. His dark, strict eyes had softened, and he exhaled as if unburdening.

Marigold was almost shy while she pulled one of the clean towels brought for a completely different reason and cleaned both of them.

“Come here,” he asked, patting the bed. “Sleep here. I am tired.”

Marigold looked at her torn nightgown, sighed, and fell on the pillow next to him. She heard him sigh, satisfied. She looked at him as his features softened by sleepiness and traced the bruises on his ribs.

“I will try to be more careful,” he murmured half-asleep.

“You better,” she said willfully.

A low chuckle, a sound that grew on her.

“Sleep now, wife.”

Marigold smiled and let herself go in his bed, next to him.

CHAPTER 17

HIDDEN TRUTHS

A few days later…

It was only a few days later when Brandon was summoned by the Order, and he knew he was going to answer. As he entered the discreet clubhouse, he looked at himself in the mirror. There was a big bruise around his nose, his knuckles were still in fresh bandages, and his ribs still hurt, but other than that, he was recovering very well.

“You look terrible,” Owen welcomed him the moment he stepped inside the private room.

“It looks worse than it feels,” he fired back.

“I am sure that Marigold is helping you take care of your wounds.”

Brandon glared at Owen, but he didn’t seem deterred.

“What happened?” Thumb demanded. “I want a detailed account.”

“They were waiting for us,” Brandon said. “Not specifically for us, they didn’t know who we were and that we were coming, but they have been alert. Organized.”

“Those men are mostly brawlers,” Thumb said thoughtfully. “To act this organized means they are planning something big, and they need to be on their toes.”