Page 77 of Duke with a Deception
He exhaled and was silent for so long that she feared she had pushed him too far. But then, he spoke into the hush of the night.
“My father delighted in beating me. For as long as I can recall, there wasn’t a time, from the moment I was old enough to walk, to the time I finally grew taller than him as a young man, that he didn’t hit me when he saw me.”
She pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh, King.”
“I was a disappointment to him,” he continued. “I was too stupid, too curious, too energetic, too insolent. He had wanted a son to make him proud, and instead, he had received me, and he wasn’t happy. I think that in some ways, he hated me. So, you see, my love? I warned you that memory can sometimes be a curse.”
“I am so very sorry, darling. My own father was often absent and uncaring, but he never raised his hand to me, and at least Everett and I had each other. Did your mother not intervene on your behalf?”
“She resented me. I was the embodiment of the man she had grown to loathe. She was far more concerned with the social whirl than she was with me. I saw even less of her than I did of him, and she was no less inclined to raise her hand to me.”
Dear God. Little wonder he preferred not to speak of his past or his parents. To think of him as a young boy, so very alone, suffering the wrath of his father and mother… Verity simply couldn’t bear it. How she wished she had been there for him then, a dragon to breathe fire and keep him safe.
She embraced King tightly. “I think you are the one truly in need of a dragon to slay the nightmares.”
“Perhaps we’re all in need of a dragon now and then,” he said softly, his voice tender.
“I’ll be yours from now on,” she vowed. “Yours and Emma’s.”
“Just as long as you promise not to eat arackness.”
She smiled at his use of Emma’s mispronunciation, but she also knew what he was doing. Whenever conversations between them grew too heavy, King had a habit of either making jokes or making love to her. Anything to distract from the weighty emotions he didn’t want to feel.
It was her most fervent hope that one day, he would be open and unfettered with her, no more avoidance. But she knew she couldn’t press him. He would do so in his own time and at the pace his heart chose.
“I promise not to eat any arachnids,” she said with mock solemnity. “I would sooner eat fish.”
“And we know how much you dislike that particular dish.” He cupped her nape gently. “Come closer.”
She shifted in the bed, drawing nearer to him, settling her hand back on his chest.
“Closer.”
Verity laughed. “Any closer and I shall be atop you.”
“Exactly.”
Well, then. It was apparent that her charming husband was employing both tactics of distraction this evening. And she had no doubt he would succeed. All she had to do was think about him, to long for his touch, and here they were, skin to skin. Their proximity didn’t bode well for her ability to resist him. But since when had she ever been able to resist Peregrine Septimus Castelyn, the tenth Duke of Kingham?
Never, she was sure.
“Thank you for telling me about your past,” she said seriously, not ready yet to allow him to brush everything they had discussed aside. “I hope to one day know everything there is to know about you.”
“I’m not certain such a feat is possible.” He urged her forward. “Now kiss me, angel, and make me forget.”
She gave in, finding his lips with hers and kissing him. He cupped her bottom and pulled her so that she was astride him, a position that left the hard ridge of his cock pressed deliciously against her where she longed for him most. It felt wicked, being on top of him like this, but it also felt good, as if she held all the control.
His tongue dueled with hers, his hands caressing her hips, her waist. His touch on her was electric. She rocked, the head of him glancing over her already swollen clitoris and making her moan. She was ready for him, her body potently aware, her cunny wet and aching, her nipples hard buds that longed for his mouth next.
As they kissed, he guided her so that she was on her knees, the new placement allowing him to reach between them and slick himself along her folds, then over her pearl again and again. It felt so good, too good, chasing all the lingering pain from his revelations. He wanted her to make him forget, but he was the one driving thought from her mind, making her want him even though they had made love earlier.
No one could make her feel the way King did.
And she knew no one ever would.
Seconds turned into minutes, and they were still writhing together, kissing until they were breathless and then kissing some more. King was first to move his lips from hers, dragging them down her throat to her shoulder where he gently sank his teeth into her flesh.
Verity moaned. “I need you inside me, King.”
