The Dragon Duke's Heir Contract novel · Chapter 3 of 24
Chapter 3: Break It
She asks. The first night is slow and rough and he finishes inside her, saying what he wants. In the morning her mother's ring arrives on a tray with a threat.
He turned around slowly.
His eyes were gold and the pupils were narrow slits.
He looked at Ysolene.
"Say it properly," said the duke.
"I'm asking."
"For what?"
"For you. Tonight, and the nights after. You said I'd have to say it with my mouth, so here it is."
Her voice shook, but she didn't look away.
"Take me to bed, Valerian. Please."
He crossed the balcony in three strides and picked her up.
She put her arms around his neck.
The skin at his temple was warm and faintly ridged under her fingers.
She kissed it before she knew she had meant to.
He made a sound and carried her down the stair.
The moon laid blue light across the floor of the dark bedchamber.
He set her down on the quilt and stood over her, breathing hard.
"Take your nightgown off."
Ysolene sat up and pulled it over her head.
The air touched every inch of her, and his gaze followed it.
"You're beautiful," he said roughly.
"I'm ink-stained and I have a scar on my knee."
"Show me the scar."
She put her leg out, and he knelt and kissed it.
The scorching mouth against that small ugly mark nearly undid her before he had begun.
He stood and pulled his shirt off over his head.
His chest was broad and scarred and hard-muscled.
A thin line of silver-black scales ran down his ribs on the left side.
She put her palm flat over them.
"They're warm," she said.
"They like you."
"I'm a virgin," she said, because someone ought to say it. "In case your scales were wondering."
"I know." His voice cracked on it. "I'll be slow."
"Don't be slow. I've been waiting all night. Give me what's in the contract."
He undid his trousers.
She had never seen a man naked.
She looked, openly, at the cock that sprang out thick and flushed and heavy against his stomach.
It was bigger than she had any right to expect.
"Lie back," said Valerian.
She lay back and he lowered himself between her thighs, braced on his forearms.
She felt him against her, hot and blunt.
He took himself in hand and slid the head along her wetness, up and down, until she arched.
"Tell me what you want."
"I want you inside me."
"Why?"
She stared up at him, outraged and wild.
"Because I'm supposed to have your heir," she said. "I want you to put it in me. All of it. Do it."
He pushed forward.
The stretch burned, deep and thick, and she gasped and dug her heels into the backs of his thighs.
He went slowly, a bit at a time, and stopped when he was seated halfway and shaking all over.
"Breathe, Ysolene."
"I'm breathing."
"You're strangling me."
"Good."
A short, startled laugh left him, and then he kissed her.
It was open-mouthed and deep, and she kissed him back with everything she had.
In the middle of it he pushed the rest of the way in.
There was a sharp bright pain that went almost at once.
She felt full to the base of her spine, and she held on to his shoulders and whimpered into his mouth.
"There," he whispered. "Good girl. You took all of it."
"Move."
He moved.
He drew back and pushed in, deep and unhurried.
Every stroke dragged the thick length of him over a place that made the world narrow down to the next one.
She wrapped her legs around his waist.
"Harder."
"Say please."
"Valerian, please."
He gave it to her.
The bed knocked against the wall.
His big hands closed on her hips and held her where he wanted her, and she heard herself babbling.
"Yes, there, don't stop, fuck, don't stop."
"I'm not going to stop. I'm going to fill you up," he said, low and ragged against her ear. "Every night."
"Until you're round with it. Until there's no doubt in this house whose heir it is."
The words hit her.
She clenched hard around him and he swore.
"You like that."
"Say it again."
"I'm going to empty myself in you and you're going to take every drop."
"I'm going to put a son in this belly and watch it grow."
"Or a daughter," she gasped.
"Or a daughter."
His thumb dropped between them and found her clit, and he rubbed it in tight little circles as he thrust.
Ysolene came with a scream, clamping around him in long violent pulses.
He groaned, a deep broken sound, and held himself still inside her until she stopped shaking.
"Again," he said into her neck.
"I can't."
"You can."
He started to move again, slower now, rolling his hips.
The oversensitive friction tipped her almost at once into a second wave.
She dug her nails into his back.
He came a minute later, with a hoarse shout and his whole body locked.
She felt the heat of him pumping into her, thick and endless, filling her past what she had thought possible.
The scales at his temple flared a pale silver.
His breath came in great shuddering gusts, and he stayed buried in her, forehead against hers.
"Thank you," he said, very low.
She blinked at him.
"For what? I signed."
"I know."
He pressed a kiss against the corner of her mouth, so tender that it frightened her more than the rest.
He didn't pull out for a long time.
Afterward he lay on his back and drew her against his side.
She rested her head on his chest, where his heart thudded heavy and fast.
His arm was hot as a hearthstone around her.
Fenna had told her he never slept in anyone's bed.
Ysolene thought, drifting, that he was lying very still so as not to wake her.
When she woke the sun was high, and the other half of the bed was cold.
A tray had been set on the table by the window.
There was tea, bread, a boiled egg.
And beside the cup lay her mother's garnet ring, on a folded card.
She knew the handwriting before she read it.
"Your father's tower is cold this winter, Duchess. Do warm yourself. Ignatius."
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