Duke of Wicked Intentions by Harriet Caves
Chapter Nineteen
Miranda stopped struggling when they reached the staircase and began ascending to the second floor. Benedict had stopped speaking to her entirely and would not explain where exactly he was taking her. Her mind was a whirl of fury and confusion.
He kept referring to a letter she had supposedly sent him once. She had sent him many letters when they were young, but she couldn’t recall one that would’ve warranted this type of response from him. What had he meant when he’d said this was all her fault? Had he actually gone mad somehow?
To her surprise, he led her by the arm down the second-floor hallway toward a room she had yet to enter. His bedroom.
He opened the door and ushered her inside before closing it firmly behind him. Without a word, he crossed to his nightstand and opened its small drawer. After rummaging around a bit, he pulled out a folded piece of paper and marched back over to where she stood in the middle of the room. He thrust the paper at her.
“I’ve been keeping it close to me as of late so I don’t forget exactly what you are,” he spat.
Baffled, Miranda unfolded the paper and read the words within. With each line her eyes moved over, her stomach dropped lower and lower until she was certain it had hit the floor.
“Benedict, I don’t know where you got this…but I didn’t send this to you.”
He scoffed. “Don’t try and lie to me, Miranda. You signed it, right there.” He emphasized the point by jabbing his finger at her name scrawled at the bottom of the letter.
“That’s not my signature,” she told him in a soft voice.
He furrowed his brow. “Of course that’s your signature–”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not. I do not write my ‘a’s like that, and the ‘m’ is far too rounded. I write mine with shaper points.”
He took the letter from her hands and squinted down at the signature, though she wasn’t sure what good it would do him he was apparently not as familiar with her writing as he had thought he was.
“Is this why you left?” she murmured, drawing his attention back to her. He glanced up and met her gaze. He looked so confused…so lost.
Slowly, he nodded. “Yes, it is. I thought…I thought you wanted nothing more to do with me.”
Her jaw moved up and down as she struggled to form words. Was this the reason they’d fallen apart? This letter with her forged signature?
“I…I thought you ran because you didn’t want to be with me,” she confessed in a devastated tone. “You escaped to the Continent so you wouldn’t have to marry me.”
He looked shocked, dropping the letter to the ground as he stepped closer to her. “The only reason I left was because I couldn’t stand the thought of being here, knowing you didn’t want me,” he murmured. “I had to leave. It was torture otherwise.”
Miranda’s knees felt weak. She made her way to the bed and sat down on top of it before she collapsed to the floor. Benedict followed her and carefully sat down next to her.
She stared at the wall across from her for several long moments as she contemplated everything they’d just uncovered. “We were fooled so easily,” she whispered. “We wasted so much time…all these years, we could have been together–”
He reached over and rested a hand over hers and squeezed her fingers gently. “Don’t think about it too much. You’ll drive yourself mad.”
She gazed at him helplessly. “How can I not think about it? Benedict, this is…this is so awful! Who would do this to us? Who would take away all that time–?”
His arm was around her and he was pulling her into his embrace before she broke down completely into a weeping mess. She pressed her face into his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline. It was so strange, seeking comfort from him, when she’d spent so much time believing he was the cause of a significant amount of her pain. Her mind was having a hard time switching its perception of him.
She tried not to worry too much about that, though. In that moment, she just wanted to feel his body against hers, anchoring her down into the present where it was just the two of them, together after so many years wasted apart.
They sat in silence for several moments, and as she was lulled out of her heightened state, she became increasingly aware of the hard ridge of his body beneath his clothes and his musky, intoxicating scent. She was suddenly eager to get closer to him, snuggling her face further into his shirt and breathing him in.
“Miranda…what are you doing?” His voice was low and husky sounding. It made her shiver.
“What do you mean?” she murmured, nuzzling up toward his neck.
“You are…well…I don’t want to be presumptuous–”
She peered up at him and bit her lip, feeling suddenly shy but not wishing to move away from him.
“What are you presuming, exactly?”
He took hold of her chin with his thumb and forefinger and lifted her face up so she was forced to meet his gaze. “Let me ask you this,” he said in a low growl. “If we were truly husband and wife, would you allow me to kiss you in this moment?”
She stared up at him, wide-eyed and stunned by his boldness. Stunned, yet excited. She didn’t know where her own boldness came from, but as they gazed at each other, she slowly nodded her head.
Benedict’s lips were on hers the next moment, stealing her breath and making her whimper with need. He wrapped his arms around her and maneuvered her so that she was straddling his lap. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her body tight against his, her burning desire for this man scorching away the inhibitions that had been drilled into her since childhood.
She wasn’t a proper lady with him. She was just herself. Just Miranda. She could be herself, just as she’d always been able to as a girl. So she didn’t hold back, parting her lips without hesitation when his tongue dragged across them, requesting entry.
She didn’t balk when his hands cupped her backside and dragged her down so she could grind against his lap. When she moaned, she didn’t try to stifle the sound. This was how it was supposed to be with them, after all. Nothing held back. No barriers or hesitations.
Benedict began rucking up the skirts of her dress until he’d bared her thighs. She wanted him to touch her again, just as he had done last time.
“Benedict…” she whispered against his mouth, “I…I want–”
“What, Sweetheart?” he murmured back. “What is it you want? Tell me anything and it’s yours, I promise you.”
She ducked her head so she was closer to his ear. “I want you to touch me again…like last time.”
He hissed out a breath through his teeth. Without a word, he slid his hand up the inside of her thigh and teased the opening of her underthings. “Have you thought of me touching you here often?” he growled.
Miranda bit her lip, her cheeks burning, but she slowly nodded. “Yes…I have.”
As if to reward her for her honesty, he stroked his fingers along her hot, tender flesh, making her shudder.
“That pleases me,” he murmured. “You please me. So very much.”
“Really?” Her heart ached at the yearning in his voice, and she felt a swelling of need rise up within her for this man.
He nodded, pressing a soft kiss to her lips even as his fingers worked her steadily and firmly. She gasped when his thumb brushed against that sensitive place at the top of her sex, and when he did it again, she moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck to bury her face against his shoulder. She began to whimper, and that seemed to excite him because his fingers began moving more quickly. He was going to send her careening over the edge into release, and they’d only just gotten started.
“Benedict…I’m…I’m going to–”
“That’s good, Sweetheart,” he told her. “Fall apart for me.”
She didn’t think she could stop it even if she wanted to, and so she let her head fall back as the sensations of her release began exploding through her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she moaned against his neck as he drew the pleasure out of her, not relenting in his touch until she was slumped against him and whimpering.
He removed his hand from between her legs and wrapped his arms around her to hold her tight as she recovered. Miranda rested her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat, which was thumping heavily against her ear. When she was able to regain most of her senses, she realized there was something hard and insistent pressing against her backside.
Releasing a small gasp, she felt her cheeks heat as she slowly lifted her head to look up at Benedict. “Are you…are you in much discomfort?”
He gave her a smile, but it was tense and his jaw was tight. He was clearly in some level of discomfort, even if he didn’t say so out loud. Still, he said, “I am just fine. Don’t concern yourself with me.”
Biting her lip, Miranda sat straight and dropped her gaze down to his lap. There was a very prominent bulge in his trousers and she couldn’t help her curiosity as to what exactly rested beneath his clothes. She hadn’t touched him there before, and she wondered if it would feel as good for him to be stroked there as it had felt for her.
Taking a deep breath to gather her courage, she reached her hand down and pressed it against his length. He groaned and arched his hips to push himself more firmly into her hand. Then, he seemed to catch himself and a blush colored his cheeks.
She thought his embarrassment was rather adorable and began to move her hand up and down his hardness. He clutched her hips and held her tight, as if afraid she would try and get away. His gaze grew hooded and his mouth slack and a thrill shot through her at the sight. She was affecting him, perhaps as much as he affected her.
The realization made her feel strangely powerful. Can I make him fall apart?
The possibility intrigued her. She curled her fingers around him and clutched him as she continued to stroke him through his clothes. His jaw grew taut and his eyes slid closed as he seemed to let himself be consumed by what she was doing to him. “Miranda,” he breathed her name. “I need you. I need you now.”
As naïve as she might be, Miranda knew exactly what it was he was saying. “Then take me,” she whispered. “Let me give you what you need.”
As if her words snapped the last of his control, Benedict grabbed hold of her waist, and the next moment, Miranda found herself on the bed on her back with Benedict looming over her. Before she could say a word, his lips descended on hers in a bruising kiss that stole her breath.
He began to undress her as he kissed her, making quick work of the laces holding her dress together to pull it from her body. Her undergarments were next, and the next thing she knew, she was naked beneath him. Miranda’s instincts had her moving her hands to cover her breasts and the juncture of her thighs, but Benedict took gentle hold of her wrists and moved her arms so they were spread on either side of her head.
“Don’t hide from me,” he murmured with a small grin as his eyes swept the length of her body. “You are gorgeous. I couldn’t imagine you being more perfect.”
Miranda’s cheeks heated at that. She was far from perfect, but the adoration shining in his eyes was almost enough to make her believe otherwise. “I want to see you too,” she told him softly.
He nodded. “As you wish, Sweetheart.”
Releasing her wrists, he stood fully and began to strip his own clothing, all the while keeping his eyes locked with hers. Once he was as naked as she was, he stood still, as if giving her an opportunity to look him over. It was an opportunity she eagerly took advantage of.
He was lean and fit, with a narrow waist and broad shoulders. His manhood hung between his legs and started to stiffen further as she gazed at him. It was bigger than she’d imagined it would be, and she had a moment’s hesitation as she wondered how he would fit inside her.
He didn’t give her too much opportunity to puzzle through that question, however. Climbing back onto the bed, he held himself over her before lowering himself onto his elbows so he could kiss her once more.
Miranda loved the feel of his body pressed against hers as he ran his lips along her jaw and down her throat. She groaned when he brought one hand down to cup her breast. He gently kneaded her tender flesh and tweaked the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“Benedict,” she whimpered, arching her back.
“Miranda,” he replied in a breathless voice as his hand trailed down to the warm, wet heat between her legs.
He pressed her thighs apart and settled between them, his hardness resting against her pelvis. This was it. They were going to be one. She had thought this moment would never come for them. That they would always be at odds with each other and never be able to come together as husband and wife.
To say she was nervous was an understatement, but she was also eager for this. She wanted to make up for all the time that they’d lost, and she was certain this was a good start. Benedict distracted her from her thoughts when he leaned back so he was kneeling between her legs. He took hold of his length and lined it up with her entrance.
Meeting her gaze, he asked, “Are you ready?”
She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want him to stop. Without a word, as she was too afraid she would reveal her anxiety, she nodded. Benedict leaned over her and pressed his lips to hers just as he pushed his hips forward. He entered her slowly, but she still felt a distinct sting as she stretched to accommodate him. She let out a whimper, and he swallowed it with his kiss.
Once he was seated all the way inside her, he paused and lifted his head so he could gaze down into her eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Does it hurt?”
“There’s…there’s a bit of pain,” she admitted. “But I don’t think it will last. Just…just give me a moment.”
Benedict held himself still, but she could see the strain in his face and the muscles in his arms bulged on either side of her. His willingness to hold himself back made her heart beat with a tender affection that went beyond simple lust. Whatever the feeling was, though, that moment wasn’t the time to try and sort through it.
In that moment, all that truly mattered was the physical connection she and Benedict were experiencing together. Reaching up, she grasped his shoulders. “I’m ready now,” she told him.
He gave her a sharp nod, and then slowly pulled his hips back before driving forward into her again. She gasped and her legs wrapped around his waist, almost of their own accord.
Benedict began to move faster and faster, pumping in and out of her until the sting began to dissolve into incredible pleasure. It was more intense than when he had touched her, and felt as though it were coming from deep within her, spreading throughout her body until she was overwhelmed with sensation.
She began to cry out and Benedict moved faster until she was clawing at the bedding around her. “Benedict! It’s so much! Too much! I…I don’t think I can take much more!”
He leaned back onto his haunches and grabbed her hips for better leverage. Instead of showing her any mercy, he drove himself into her even harder.
Miranda was certain she was going to break apart. Shatter from the inside out and never be the same again. She was both terrified to reach what she knew would be a shattering release, but she was also desperate to relieve the pressure building up within her belly.
Benedict seemed to be drawing close to his own release, if his clenched teeth and desperate grunts and groans were any indication. “Miranda,” he growled. “You feel so good. So perfect.”
However, no matter how much he might wish for their wild lovemaking to continue indefinitely, Miranda reached her peak with a blinding explosion of ecstasy. She threw her head back and screamed, losing all sense of herself as she flew into the blissful abyss. She could just perceive Benedict releasing a bellow of his own as he followed her over the edge.
When the sensations began to slowly pass away and Miranda floated back down to earth, Benedict collapsed next to her. They lay in silence as they caught their breath, though Miranda didn’t really know what there was for her to say anyway.
When his hand found hers and took hold of it, she turned to gaze at him in surprise. He was looking at her, a satisfied smile on his face. “How do you feel?” he softly asked.
“I…I don’t know,” she answered. “I feel good. Content, somehow. That was…it was so much more than what I ever imagined it could be.”
He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “I’m glad. I wanted to please you.”
Miranda’s lips twitched as a different kind of pleasure bloomed in her chest. “You did,” she assured him. “Very much.”
“Good.” He reached over and gathered her in his arms, pulling her toward him so she rested against his chest. “You pleased me as well, Wife. Incredibly so.”
She ducked her head to hide her smile, and they continued to hold each other as the tendrils of sleep wrapped around them and pulled them into their peaceful embrace.
