“My duchess, my partner, my heart,” he whispered in her ear, but Eleanor could feel the tension thrumming through him, the restraint that was costing him dearly.
She wasn’t finished with him yet. With trembling hands, she pushed at his shoulders until he rolled onto his back, allowing her to explore the magnificent landscape of his body with the same attention he’d shown hers. She marveled at the play of muscle beneath bronzed skin, the way he shuddered when her mouth found particularly sensitive spots, the low groans of pleasure that escaped him despite his attempts at control—all of it fed the growing fire within her.
“Eleanor,” he warned roughly when her explorations grew bolder, her lips hovering over his steely length. “If you continue like that, I won’t be able to control myself.”
“Then don’t,” she whispered against his cock, unable to resist tasting him with her tongue.
“Christ,” he rasped, his hips bucking as his back arched beautifully.
With a sly smile, Eleanor slowly lifted one leg across his hips, reveling in the way his eyes followed her movement and fixed on her heat with what she could only describe as desperate hunger.
“I want all of you, Damien. I want to be your wife in every way that matters.”
She could see his response—a long, shuddering breath, his lips parted, his eyes pleading for the relief they’d both been craving. When her slender fingers gripped his member, he closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again as if he didn’t wish to miss a moment.
“Sweet Lucifer, you’re killing me,” he breathed as she rubbed his cockhead against her folds, soaking it in her nectar. A moan escaped her lips at the sensation, the anticipation that had been building for weeks finally approaching its crescendo.
As she lowered herself bit by bit over his rod, all thoughts left her except the exquisite pressure and the sense of rightness so profound it brought tears to her eyes.
“Are you all right?” Damien asked, and she could hear the strain in his voice from the effort of remaining still despite what she could feel was the desperation consuming him.
“Perfect,” she breathed, beginning to move over his hard length, savoring every jolt of pleasure. “So perfect.”
“Eleanor,” he breathed, “so bloody sweet.” His hands moved over her hips, adjusting his grip before he began to rock her over his cock with increasing urgency.
She gasped at the deeper penetration as he angled her hips and bucked his own. Eleanor lost herself in the sensation—the exquisite friction, the way Damien’s hands guided and supported her movements, the increasingly desperate sounds of pleasure that escaped them both as weeks of longing finally found release.
She could see him studying her face intently as he slid her cunny over his cock, withdrawing, then plunging into her again with growing desperation. Her orgasm crested fast and fierce, her mouth opening in a silent scream.
“That’s it, wife. I want to feel you squeeze my cock.”
With one last gasp, she shattered over him, her muscles pulsing around his hardness as she called out his name like a prayer. She felt Damien’s release follow immediately after, could hear his breath harsh and primal as she watched his abdomen contract and ripple. His firm grip on her hips ground her sex hard over his rod, milking the last drops of his desire.
Eleanor collapsed onto his chest, the thundering of his heart a soothing lullaby against her ear. In the aftermath, as their breathing slowly returned to normal, she marveled at how complete she felt—not just physically, but in every way that mattered.
“Was it worth the wait?” she whispered against his skin.
She could hear the smile in his voice when he answered, his arms tightening around her. “Worth every torturous moment, Duchess. Worth everything.”
They lay entwined in the candlelit aftermath, their breathing gradually returning to normal as gentle caresses replaced urgent passion.
“No regrets?” he asked softly, his fingers combing through her disheveled hair with infinite tenderness.
Eleanor lifted her head to meet his gaze, seeing her own sense of profound completion reflected in his countenance. “None,” she said firmly. “You?”
“Only that it took us so long to reach this point,” he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I could have been loving you properly for weeks.”
Eleanor laughed, the rich sound almost unrecognizable to her. “I think we would have smothered each other with pillows before we could do any loving.”
“Speak for yourself. I’ve always known we’d fall madly in love.”
She chuckled as she shook her head. “And that’s why you planned to flee my presence as soon as you found your brother?”
“Aye. It would’ve been tragic to witness a strong and intelligent woman become a puddle at my feet when I tired of her.”
He laughed as she playfully slapped his chest. Damien rolled her onto her back, his smile radiant as he tightened his arms around her. “My wife. I am in awe of you.”
As sleep began to claim them both, Eleanor marveled at the journey that had brought her to this moment. She’d fought so hard to maintain her independence, never realizing that the greatest freedom came not from standing alone, but from choosing to stand beside someone worthy of her trust.