Crazy Duke and Fallen Queen

I inhale deeply and organise my thoughts. Why is it so hard, convincing a man to make love?

I release the clench on the sheets and caress the Duke's face as he did with me. My fingers slip on his neck, followed by my eyes.

I dare to fasten my arms behind his neck, and I lift my head intending to kiss him. If my move is too bold and annoys the Duke, I'll just start crying and ask for forgiveness. I'm allowed a few mistakes, right?

He presses a finger on my lips, stopping me before I can touch his. I lift my gaze, afraid of his reaction, but he doesn't look mad.

«Will you change your idea again, Theodora?» he mutters with a solemn expression. «I'm not to be played with.»

«I haven't changed my intentions, your grace. I've always wanted this,» I breathe, and I fix my eyes on the Duke's, showing him utter sincerity.

I'm not entirely lying, so I'm positive he'll eventually believe me. Mostly, because he wants to. If it wasn't the case, he wouldn't be still here, playing with me.

If one of us looks like an indecisive maiden, it's not me!

Fortunately, the Duke makes his decision and kisses me again. He presses me down with his weight and bites my lower lip. I instinctively open my mouth to complain, and he takes the chance to invade my cavity with his greedy tongue.

He explores every spot, sometimes passionate and sometimes delicate.

I'm starting to feel inebriated by his delicate touch and his burning kiss. He guides my left leg around him, and I lift the other as well, surrounding his hips. His movements have become frenetic, and his breath quicker.

The spots he touches become hot, and my insides start to tingle. I sigh, splitting from him for long enough to breathe some air.

The Duke, though, is rather impatient, and he immediately starts kissing my neck and shoulders. The tip of his tongue leaves a wet trace that becomes cool in contact with the air.

He doesn't waste time taking off his clothes nor my nightgown. I bet this is how people do it here in the Empire. I can't hold back and sink my fingers in the Duke's hair. I play with his locks, smiling at the texture. Who knows how many girls would envy his hair if they knew how soft and thick it is.

I'm distracting myself once again. What if the Duke notices? Will he turn a blind eye if I confess that I was still thinking about him?

His caresses and kisses are now a bit blunt, but he's careful not to hurt me. I dare to close my eyes and focus only on his touch. It's so odd, but I like this feeling. It's as if the Duke has waited for a long time just to put his hands on me.

At first, I only feel pain. I turn my head to the side, and I bite my lips to hide my reaction. I suppress the moan that lingers in my throat, and I tighten my legs' clench. Tears form in my eyes and flow on my temples. The light starts to enlighten the room with the rays of a sunny morning.

It soon gets better, so I gradually relax. Still, this looks like never-ending torture. I hoped it would last shorter, but this man doesn't look willing to stop. My breathing has increased, and that weird feeling is still lingering inside me. My body has adapted on its own, and it reacts to every touch of the Duke's. It's as if I've done this for my whole life.

When I got used to this, it eventually doesn't feel that bad. It's strange, but at least it doesn't hurt anymore. I sigh, relieved, and I notice that the Duke is unfairly enjoining this way more than me.

When he whispers my name, a thrill crosses my spine. My body reacts to this sound in an unexpected way, and I can't refrain from moaning. I sink my nails in the mattress, forgetting about everything but the Duke's breath on my skin and his arms holding me tightly.

In the end, it's less terrible than what I've initially thought it would be. It does hurt, in the beginning, but it's bearable. I haven't considered that I would feel so light, though. Nor that every single part of my body would be burning and tingling.

It was like a ride through the clouds. Sometimes soft and cosy as a spring breeze, and seldom rough and scathing like a winter blast.

I turn to the side and snuggle up. The pain in the lower part of my body hasn't disappeared. Now, I just want to stay like this for a while more.

The Duke is already up, getting ready for his day. I guess this is why wives are so demanding of their husbands. They need a very, very good reason to let their men do this to them.

Before leaving the room, the Duke walks to me and sits on the bed.

«You can sleep some more,» he murmurs while caressing my hair.

I nod to show him that I've heard. He grabs the cover from the footboard, and he tucks it for me. He makes sure that I'm warm, and he pecks my lips before getting up.

«I can't sleep too much,» I utter, not leaving him time to flee. «There surely is something I'm supposed to do today.»

«There isn't,» the Duke denies, and he finally walks out.

Of course, I'm not a real duchess. I'm just a plaything that's fighting its way to survive. There aren't any commitments for me here.

Surprisingly enough, I'm not feeling too bad about it.

Still, what will people think if no one sees me until late? Not that I care, as the one to bear the rumours would be the Duke. It's his fault if I can't get out of bed.

A tiny figure opens the door and walks in, silently. I glance at the maid, and I notice that she's carrying some hot water and towels.

«His grace, the Duke, told me to serve you at the best of my capabilities,» the girl utters. «I'll be your personal maid from now on.»

I stretch out my arm and grab one of the towels. I soak it in the water and squeeze it.

The maid must have been warned, or she simply is well-trained because she doesn't react in any way when I start to clean my skin by myself. She doesn't try to make any contact, but she's still standing too close.

«Leave the bowl on the table, and you may withdraw,» I say.

She obeys to the first part of my order, but she stands in a corner instead of walking out. She crosses her hands in the front and looks at the floor silently.

I can see this maid's hidden glances. She's keeping a close look at me while pretending to be leaving me space.

I'd prefer if she openly stared. I'm not a fan of all this deference either way.

«I'm sorry, your grace, but I was ordered to stay with you. The Duke explicitly told me not to leave you alone.»

I roll my eyes and move the cover away. I notice the stain of blood between my legs, and I can't help but snort.

I clean myself carefully, and I walk to the closet to look for clothes.

«Are you allowed to touch the Duke's wardrobe?» the maid says, stopping me a moment before I can touch the mahogany of the furniture.

Is a maid allowed to talk like this to a noblewoman? No matter how irregular my situation is, I'm still a Duchess in the name.

The Empire's etiquette is strict, and it's perfect for hiding one's true feelings. It's unsettling, at first, but they fail at pretending eventually. And they show their real feelings with a few words or a single gesture out of control.

«I need clothes,» I note, and the maid nods. I pretend not to have noticed the tone she just used.

«They're waiting for you, your grace. In your chamber.»

Oh, right. This is the Duke's room. I won't sleep here, usually. I'll just come here when he's in the right mood and then walk back to my chambers to sleep alone. This is the life of couples in Ethiro.

Or was it the husband that reaches the wife's room? I can't remember clearly. However, this is how the Empire works. Relationships are considered as mere contracts.

Still, there is no way I'll walk out of here with a stained nightgown.

I don't want anyone to see me like this. The stain on the sheet will be enough as proof of consummation. I hope next time I won't bleed this much, though.

I wear the mauve dress that's still on the chair, and I leave the bloody gown on the bed, as a souvenir for the Duke.