The Duke and the Accidental Bride (Duchesses of Convenience #5)

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

“ I forgot to ask,” Duncan began as he and his wife broke their fast together. “What are your plans for today?”

“No plans,” Isabella responded simply as she nibbled on a piece of cake; warm, coated in butter and jam. “I thought I might read. Perhaps go for a walk.”

“Good,” Duncan agreed as he took a sip of freshly squeezed juice. “Because I shall be out for most of the day. But I shall be home in time for supper.”

“Out?” she looked at him. “Where are you going?”

“To see some friends,” he responded simply. “Nothing overly exciting, I assure you.”

“And when were you planning on telling me this?”

Duncan stiffened, as he could sense where this was going... exactly where he hoped it would. “Right now. Is that a problem?”

She put down the piece of cake, folded her hands on the table, and looked right at him. “It would have been nice to have been told earlier.”

“And the difference it would have made?”

“None,” she said. “But that is simple luck. What if I had thought to spend the day with you? Only now I would be unable, as you have made plans without bothering to inform me of them.” She cocked a warning eyebrow at him.

“And that is not my concern,” he responded with a low growl to his voice; his leg was already shaking. “I am not here to serve at your beck and call. Nor am I required to seek your permission before making plans.”

“And I suppose I am to sit at home and wait upon your return? What if I wish to go out myself?”

“Alone? That would not be proper.”

She scoffed and then licked her lips; Duncan felt himself begin to sweat as he focused on them, pink and plump and soft. “And I care what is proper? You know what, now that I think of it, perhaps I will go into London for the day. Why not?”

Duncan’s eyes drifted to Isabella’ chest. The neckline was low, the cut tightly cinched underneath her bust, propping it out and pushing it up. Her curves were almost too much for even Duncan to handle, and he salivated at the thought of getting his hands around them.

“You will not be going into London.” He forced himself to look at her. “Certainly not on your own.”

“Are you going to stop me?”

“Do I need to?”

She smirked. “You will not be here – you just said so. So, what are you going to do to stop me?” Her eyes flashed their excitement, and she licked her lips again.

Duncan moaned inwardly, careful not to let his own excitement take hold of him. Yet. Stone faced, commanding, he met his wife’s rebellious stare; his own one a no-nonsense glare designed to put her back in her place. “Do not test me.”

She laughed. “Do not make threats you cannot keep.”

“Do I need to remind you of what will happen if you continue to disobey me?”

“You think that I care what you will do?”

Not only do I think that you care. I know that you do. What’s more, I now know how much you love it.

“I think --”

‘I am done talking.” She pushed her chair back as if she meant to rise. “And I will see you at supper.” She stood quickly and went to leave --

“Do not even think of leaving!” Duncan barked at her. “And do not speak over me.” He glared daggers at her and the look of fear that was hidden behind her eyes had him groaning again. This time, loud enough so that she could hear it.

It had only been half a day. Still, Duncan’s hand was raw from having spanked Isabella beyond what he had thought she could take. Still, his member was bruised from the treatment she had given it last night. Still, his body was drained of fluids, and he’d had maybe an hour of sleep – if that! Still all those things, yet nothing could stop what was about to happen.

How to even describe the previous night? Impossible.

It was a dream turned reality. It was a fantasy come to life. It was everything that Duncan wanted, made even more glorious because Isabella, his wife, had wanted it too.

Their two-weeks of bickering and arguing and fighting had exploded into a glorious orgy of spanking and slapping and choking and biting and dominance the likes of which Duncan thought he might never experience again. Made possible because Isabella’s naturally argumentative personality seemed expressly designed for Duncan’s own brand of amorous discipline.

Isabella had finally overcome what were trepidatiously aggressive waters and her own brand of stubbornness, both of which had threatened to drown this marriage. Now, with calmer seas ahead, Duncan could not help but wonder what might happen next.

Although he didn’t have to wonder too hard. Not with the way that she was looking at him; like a disobedient pup that knew it was about to be disciplined. That it deserved it.

“Come here.” He pointed at the floor beside his chair. “Now!”

Isabella obeyed immediately. She made sure to glare at him as she walked around the table, as if she truly hated him.

Duncan pushed his chair back and turned it, spreading his legs so that she stood between them. He was hard already, his member begging to be released from his pants.

“Now, are you going to apologize for the way you have just behaved.”

She scoffed. “I said nothing wrong. And I would appreciate it if in the future you did not treat me like an afterthought.”

Duncan’s heart began to race. His breathing grew. His anger... it throbbed inside of him. Memories of last night swirled and it was all he could do not to jump to his feet, throw her on the table, and ravish her.

“What am I going to do with you...” He muttered the words to himself as his eyes drifted down and focused on Isabella’s heaving breasts. Her nipples were hard through the dress, so he took one between thumb and forefinger and squeezed it... harder... harder... harder...

Isabella's entire body trembled as he pinched her nipple. Short spikes of pain which radiated down her body and to her loins.

“There is nothing you can do,” she said.

His expression dropped. As did his hand. Still seated, he looked up and met her eyes in a warning stare. “On your knees,” he growled. “Do not make me say it again.”

It looked like she might deny him but the gaze he fixed her in told her that might not be such a smart idea. So, she sighed and huffed but dropped to her knees.

Duncan reached out and took her under the chin, forcing her to look right at him; one thumb stroking that chin. “You enjoy angering me, don’t you?”

She tried to bite his thumb. “If I said anything that upset you, perhaps you are the one is at fault.”

Gently, he slapped the side of her face. She gasped and he grabbed her by the chin, again, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Are you going to apologize?”

“Never...” Her eyes flashed and she licked her lips.

He closed his eyes and groaned as if fury was enveloping him, when really it was lust. His member was throbbing painfully, so Duncan smirked as he reached down to his pants, fiddled with their front, and then released it right before her face.

Quickly then, he snatched the back of her head. He pulled it back and leaned in close as she tried to wiggle free... “Say you are sorry, and you can go about your day. I am feeling forgiving but do not test me.”

“I have never been less sorry,” she hissed.

“So be it.” Still holding her by the back of the head, Duncan leaned back and then forced her mouth around his rock-hard member.

As for Isabella? She did not hesitate in accepting it.

“Are you going to behave for me today?” Duncan held Isabella by the top of the head, refusing to allow her to pull back and respond as he felt it slide further and further down her throat. “Well?”

She nodded her head as his member reached the back of her throat.

“Good girl,” Duncan purred and stroked her head. “You see, isn’t it so much easier when you just behave?”

Isabella wrenched her mouth free. Saliva poured from her lips and coated him. She wrapped her hand around his girth and stroked slowly, meeting his eyes and smiling. “I’m sorry, Duncan. I promise I’ll behave from now on.”

“You better,” he said only to take her by the back of the head and force her mouth over his length once more.

She had no intention of behaving for him. He could see it in her eyes. That troublesome glint that spoke of rebellion and an express desire to frustrate him with every breath that she took.

But it was all part of the game. When they had first met, Duncan and Isabella had seemed to hate one another. Duncan hated the situation he had been forced into and Isabella hated that he was refusing to let her off the hook. This hate had bubbled under the surface of the relationship, desperate to explode but held back because Duncan had feared what might happen if it did.

Now his only regret was that he had waited for so long.

And so it was that Duncan and Isabella enjoyed together their second full week of married life. Enjoyed being the key word.

Each night when Duncan returned home, he would find Isabella at the door waiting for him. She would complain about his being away all day and he would duly make her apologize for her wicked tongue.

Supper was rarely finished because they would inevitably descend into bickering which would more often than not end with Isabella bent over the table, her backside being spanked because she was, as always, a bad girl who deserved nothing less.

The nights were long, stretching into the early hours because Duncan could not get enough of Isabella, and she could not get enough of him. And the following mornings were much the same, seeing the two remain in bed long after they woke because plans made that day could always wait.

And with each minute and then hour spent together, Duncan found himself pushing the boundaries of his desires a little bit further.

Spanking came first. Putting Isabella over his knee like a petulant child as she fought against him. That was their favorite.

Choking her was a close second. Whether it be with a belt or a piece of clothing or just his hand. Duncan enjoyed it most when he was deep inside of her, bringing her to climax... only to stop at the last minute and release her and then walk away. This would see her chase him, shout at him, at which point he would snap and finish himself inside of her.

Denying her became a huge part of their routine. Often, Duncan would end the morning by devouring Isabella’s sex, licking and sucking on that bundle of nerves between her thighs, bringing her as close as he could, only to stop suddenly and announce that he had to leave. She would scream at him not to walk away, and he would leave for the day, taking untold amounts of pleasure in knowing how frustrated she was.

And then, when he eventually returned to finish her off.... it was a wonder that she didn’t ambush him on the driveway.

He bound her hands behind her back whenever he wished.

He tied her to the bed, ravished her, and then left her there. Often blindfolded, so she would not know when he was returning.

He tested the limits of her pain through biting and pinching her swollen nipples. He taught her the responses he preferred when he was disciplining her, and she told him what she liked also.

The week wore on and as it did it wore the newlyweds out in a way that might have suggested to anyone who saw them that all they did was fight. No sleep. No food. Just two people who despised one another at it day and night until one eventually dropped dead.

That is a far closer description to this past week than I care to admit...

There was also the other side of their relationship that was rarely spoken about but had become vital in maintaining the animosity that was required of such sexually volatile behaviour. The aftercare. Once the two were finished with their pleasure, Duncan was always careful to take a few minutes in treating Isabella gently, reminding her of why it is that he had to treat her the way he did, while making certain that he hadn’t gone too far.

Little was said during this more intimate moments. Mostly, it was just Duncan holding her as their breathing returned to normal and the anger that they lived in died down. Strange that Duncan actually looked forward to it each time, even if he would never admit just how much.

It was a week that was as unexpected as it was truly wonderful in every sense. A marriage that Duncan did not want. A relationship he did not dream could work. A prison that he had found himself trapped in, only to wake each morning with a smile on his face.

He did not know what might happen next.

He did not look to the future because that felt irrelevant.

As that week wore on, Duncan gave himself over to the pleasure and the ecstasy of married life with a woman who was as depraved and insatiable and as submissive as he was dominant.

And what a week it turned out to be.