The Devil is The Duke

The wedding was over before Emeera realized. They were to spend the night in the manor before traveling to the country for their honeymoon. When they got back home, Mrs. Fletcher threw scornful looks at Emeera. The Duke did not notice anything different as he did not even pay any attention to her. As they entered the master suite, he took off his clothes and went into the bathroom. When he got out, Emeera had changed into house robes.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“We need to address the servants,” he said tonelessly and stepped out of the room. Emeera followed him downstairs. As if the duke had already summoned them, all the servants gathered in one room and bowed or curtseyed as the couple entered. Many said congratulations but Mrs. Fletcher particularly kept her mouth shut.

Without prior greetings, the duke launched into his speech. “I have noticed whispers and insubordination from some of you towards my wife – Lady Emeera, the new Duchess of Savoy. I want to warn you that I shall not abide it. If you no longer wish to be under our employ, you can leave us. My wife will receive all the respect that’s due her position and person. You shall report to her and treat her in all regards reserved for the mistress of this house and if you cannot do this, please hand in your resignation before we return from our honeymoon. Thank you.” He said and led her out. As Emeera walked passed Mrs. Fletcher, the woman curtseyed.

Back in the master suite, a four course meal had been laid out on the low coffee table with a beautiful three tier wedding cake. Emeera felt a pang of guilt that the servants had gone to all that trouble yet got disparaging remarks from the Duke.

“How could you speak to your people like that? I am not a baby. I don’t need you to fight my battles,” she said the moment the door was closed but he ignored her. Instead of answering, he took his clothes off down to just his underwear and towered above her.

“It’s time to consummate the marriage,” he said.

“Are you sick?” She asked menacingly. In response, he grabbed her waist and pulled her close, then kissed her mouth in what was obviously a fight.

“Get off me you bastard!” She fought. He immediately left. The word bastard having disarmed him. “No no no. I did not mean it in the literal sense,” she said but he simply walked out of the room. Emeera knew the servants were watching and would soon confirm their suspicions that something was seriously wrong with the marriage. She lay in bed till nightfall but the Duke did not return. At first, she dared not step out of the sanctuary of her new bedroom to ask servants where he had gone to. But after waiting for hours, she decided to damn all consequences and find out.

She rang for the Lucille and she promptly answered. When the girl got there, Emeera asked her where the duke was. There was no raised eyebrow, no veiled mockery as the girl said he had been in his study all afternoon.

The duchess went to the study and saw the duke reading. As his wife, she no longer waited to be permitted entry through the butler. The moment she entered the office, he closed the book and gave her a bored look. “Emeera what is it?” He asked and stood up. She was wearing a glossy purple nightdress he knew covered nothing underneath. She did not dress like his mother or any other noble lady he knew in heavy robes. He had to remind himself that she was still a foreigner to his people’s culture and dressing. His mind pictured her naked breasts and he saw himself battling an erection.

“Don’t act like you do not know you are embarrassing us. The least you can do is remain in the room,” she said and made to leave. She was angry and that fire in her eyes excited him.

He held her back and kissed her lips. Emeera knew she should not but she gave in and parted her lips just a little. With one swift movement of his arm, her loose gown was on the floor of the study and her body laid bare. She was wearing no underwear. There were no obvious signs of pregnancy except her breasts which seemed fuller and softer than what he remembered. But maybe it was his mind playing tricks.

The duke pushed his bride over the table like he had fantasized about for weeks. Her breasts dangled in front of her as he entered her from behind. It was unlike the first time when they laughed and played and teased. This one was rough, causing her to scream in either ecstasy or pain. He spanked her buttocks as he pumped her. Emeera was so attracted to the man that just merely being around him in closed spaces made her sex tingly and wet. She wanted him in her and she was enjoying it but she was also in pain as he gripped her waist and thrust like his life depended on it. She screamed out but the Duke did not care to cover her mouth like he was wont to do. Instead he kept his fast deep strokes going. It sounded like he pounded her in raw fury. She knew she should stop him but she did not. In an animalistic desire, she wanted him to continue. To pour out all his anger and defeat, the years of hate and frustration that had piled up. But just as she was about to enjoy it, he slowed down but his grip on her waist was still firm.

Her orgasm shook her whole body and she screamed his name Albert in a croaked voice.

“Yes you are mine!” He said, not caring to lower his voice for the sake of his servants. “Emeera, you are mine!”