Beatrice did not have time to think; she did the only thing she could. She reached out to grab whatever she could before she fell from her chair.
The pleasure that came from the small bite to her neck was like nothing she had experienced before. It was better than the kiss the previous night, and she did not think pleasure could be greater than that. At that moment, she wanted him to take her right there and then to show her what ultimate pleasure felt like.
Her back arched, and she threw her head back as the Duke continued to kiss and nip her skin. She felt an immense pressure in her core, like?—
The dam from my dream. I remember it now and the way he made me feel.
Beatrice could only hold on for dear life as the Duke’s supple lips made waves of euphoria crash through her body, and she did not care about her dam breaking now. She was under his control now and would do whatever he bid her to do.
He finally broke the kiss, and she wanted to beg him to kiss her again. Instead, he stood before her, and she realized she was crumpling his pristine shirt in her hands. When she let go, he smiled and stood up straight.
“Leave us!” Edwin demanded.
It was only then that Beatrice realized there were servants in the room. They had served her soup and her main course, retreating to the corners in between, and she had forgotten all about them. Beatrice felt her cheeks burning, mortified about what she meant to do with the Duke in full view of the help.
She could not look at any of them, but she saw movement out of the corner of her eye as they vacated the room. The Duke left her side and went to the door to close it. Silence descended over the room when they were finally alone, and the lust she had felt a moment ago was replaced by nervousness.
It was one thing to be caught up in the moment but another entirely to be aware of what she was doing and where. She did not know what had come over her, but her husband had a way of commanding her soul as if he were a magician.
“We are alone,” Edwin said.
“We are.” Beatrice swallowed nervously.
“I could tell you of the things I have done, but I don’t think it would convince you of my cruelty,” Edwin said as he rounded the side of the table.
“Perhaps you have been cruel to others, and that is why they see you that way, but you have not been cruel to me.”
“So, because I have not shown you my failings, that means I am a good person?” Edwin asked.
“I don’t know,” Beatrice replied honestly. “But I do know you are punishing yourself unnecessarily. You saw what happened to your father and how it affected your life, and you try to be opposed to that. He was kind and good, so you try to be cruel and bad, but I don’t think that is what is truly in your heart.”
“What is in my heart right now?” Edwin asked.
He had stepped closer to her, and she waited until he stopped before her and gazed down into her eyes. His shirt was creased, and all she could think about was ripping it to shreds to get to what was below. Her neck still tingled with the memory of his lips.
She could see what was in his heart but was scared to voice it. He wanted her, he wanted to ravish her, and she wanted him to do it—that was what was in her heart.
“I don’t know what is in your heart,” Beatrice responded.
“No, you don’t,” Edwin agreed.
Beatrice did not know whether he was about to scold her and toss her out of the room or undress her and give her what she was not prepared for.
“What do you want from me?” he demanded.
He was breathing heavily, and his nostrils flared, but he was not angry. Of course, he was right about how much she knew. She was assuming he was not angry based on what she knew of him, but what did she really know?
“A family?” Beatrice suggested.
“No, not in the future. What do you want from me right now?” Edwin clarified.
“I-I don’t need anything. You have been more than kind,” Beatrice stammered.
“Tell me what you want. I want to hear it from you.”
Beatrice was silent.
“I can see it in your eyes. I saw it from the moment you walked in here, awash with excitement. I want to hear you say it,” the Duke demanded.