Page 58 of A Tale of Two Dukes

“Later. For now, I suggest we have a conversation.” Those words, though spoken in soft, easy tones, cause my panic to spike.

He sets me down in the nest, leaving me alone in the dark. Soon, however, a small flicker nearby shows off his naked silhouette by the fireplace. His stance is relaxed. At least that’s how it appears to me. But who truly knows?

Follow the bond, he whispers in my mind, soft as a caress. It will never fail you or mislead you. There is no anger here, no retribution. However, we do need to talk about what I’ve learned during our heat.

My stomach chooses that moment to grumble, and he laughs, “Maybe over some breakfast, kitten.”

Dropping my head, I watch as the flames take hold and spark, illuminating the room. It’s all the same, and yet, everything feels fundamentally different. “I suppose you know my name isn’t Kitty then.”

“I do.”

Pain lances through me at the matter-of-fact tone in his voice. “Then you know that kitten is no longer an appropriate nickname.”

He rises, the light of the fire drenching his body in golden reds. This visage is akin to a god standing in the flames, waiting to devour me. His eyes are just as intense.

“Do you presume to tell me what is and is not appropriate?”

“N- No, Your Grace. Merely-”

Within a few strides, he’s back in the nest, his hand curling around my throat. “What did I say about calling me that in private, hmm? As for what I choose to call you, it matters not to me that your given name is Catherine. You will always be my little kitten, my precious omega.”

At the sound of my name, my real name, my pulse pounds loud in my ears. Who knew something so plain, so proper, would sound like pure decadence coming from his lips? A wicked smile curves his mouth as he drops his other hand lower, teasing my clit.

“So you like it when I call you Catherine, hmmm? Why, my dear, you’re positively drenched, soaking, and all from using your name.” His other hand tightens a touch, cutting off my ability to breathe.

Once more, panic shoots through me, leaving my body numb and trembling. Shhh, my love. I have you. Just look in my eyes. I will never allow harm to come to you, even by my own hand. Just calm yourself and listen to my voice.

I do my best, allowing my hands to fall to the side. That’s my good girl. His words flutter through my mind, brushing against my consciousness just as delicate as the flap of a butterfly’s wing. My vision wavers as I teeter between alertness and darkness.

Just as I tip over, he lets me go, allowing air to flood my lungs. I gasp, taking in as much as I can. Slowly, inexorably, he tightens his grip again, but this time, I know what he’s doing. I can tell my body it’s safe and just drift.

My stomach flips, my mind fuzzing around the edges. I breathe on his good grace, taking in oxygen as he allows it. Such a fundamental freedom, one which he now owns. Again, just before I succumb to the darkness, he lets go, allowing me precious air.

This time, as he tightens, he slides his fingers deep inside, curling them so he’s able to stroke that spot that drives me wild. I long to moan, to allow my pleasure to drift from me. But with no air, I find it harder to do.

Instead, I focus on feeling. With each breath, he drives in hard, stealing it away again. As he chokes me, his touch becomes lighter, tender in some ways. All the while, he’s in my head, praising me, telling me what a good little kitten I am for him.

It’s as if Catherine slowly slips away, leaving the wanton I was always meant to be. With him, with William, I can be who I truly am. No pretense, no facade, just a woman being loved by a man in all his depraved ways.

Arousal curls through my stomach, making everything clench until I’m taut, a bowstring wound so tight I could snap at any moment. His strokes are calm, measured, steady, a far cry from the rapid thundering of my erratic heart.

Come for me, my kitten, he growls in my mind, his fingers holding my throat even tighter. Blackness encroaches, sending a myriad of lights buzzing, humming, vibrating through my eyes. I can see them, and yet, I can’t. I know they’re there; I feel the jolt as it runs through my body.

I hang on the precipice, desperate, needy, and wanton. When I release, he lets go of my throat, his fingers pounding into me with such force it shoves me deeper into the nest. Each breath is saturated with the scent of our lovemaking, filling my lungs with each gulp I take.

Screaming, everything crashes in around me. My release tears through me, explosive and volatile. My legs quake as he continues to drive his fingers in and out, forcing me to release again and again.

I lose count of how many times he plucks pleasure from me. He only stops when I no longer have a voice to cry out, to sing the praises of my satisfaction. Scooping me up into his arms, his cock replaces his fingers, pushing into me, drawing a ragged groan from my lips.

He impales me, stretching me out over the knot that’s already forming. Tears gather in my eyes as he works over my raw nerves. Our coupling is intense, frantic, a crash of limbs as we both seek release.

Turning over, he holds me aloft, driving his member in and out. From this new angle, he feels impossibly large as he opens me up, filling every inch of me until I ache and burn. Again, my release looms, urging me to move at this guidance.

“That’s right, my love. Ride me. Let loose your inhibitions and allow your body to take over. It knows what to do. It knows how to please me. You know how to please me.”

Crying out, I arch back, allowing my body to take over. In and out in an age-old rhythm. My inner walls squeeze, rippling around his massive girth. With a groan, his head drops back, but his hands never leave my hips.

No longer is he guiding me, urging my movements. This time, it’s all me. I find what I like, maneuvering until the tip of his cock hits the right spot every time. My pleasure fuels his own.