My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 192: Helping Him (R18)

Chapter 192: Helping Him (R18)

Desmond wasn’t ignorant to how he behaved whenever he felt any space form between he and his wife. Even if it was space he made up while overthinking, it was space nonetheless.

He knew he burdened her with his thoughts yet she never once told him to hold back and behave.

While she had certainly denied him a few times, his nonverbal begging was normally met with a yes.

She asked him to kiss her and he selfishly wondered ’To what end?’ as he lowered himself and their lips met. However, he would be understanding if there was nothing else and they stopped at a kiss. If she didn’t express her reasoning, it wasn’t his job to figure it out.

He respected her boundaries just as she respected his when they were only beginning and she didn’t push him to reveal himself. Even if she was curious, she read him well and knew when to stop. It was the same in their intimacy. Body language was equally as important as spoken word.

All he knew was that he loved her enthusiasm and their closeness would be lacking if he was ever met with anything less. When he met her, he never expected someone so shy to be so receptive to touch.

Yet each time their skin met, she was swept away and the most honest he had ever seen her.

As a woman, her expressions were kept in better check. Yet he knew how to get her back to her younger self who didn’t know control. The side of her who hadn’t yet been burdened by the world and locked tightly because of experience.

He kissed her so ferociously as these thoughts consumed him, he felt her sign into his mouth as the arm not holding all of his weight moved towards her and felt her soft body through her nightgown.

She was fertile land made of peaks and valleys while he was the cartographer, learning every curve so he could create a map.

As if he were in the comfort of their home, his lips left hers and he found her cheek then her neck. One of his hands went onwards and he found the already hardened peak of her soft mound as if he was magnetized to that area by an invisible force.

"Desmond," she whispered breathlessly, not knowing how much she could enjoy or respond.

Regardless, her hand went to the back of his bare head and she egged him on, silently asking him to go further.

To her disappointment, he pulled away abruptly and escaped the bed as if it were on fire. He couldn’t stand up straight so he pathetically kneeled on the ground with his head slumped and his eye on the part of himself that shamelessly reacted to her every single day without fail.

He was a loyal man with unbelievable virility yet he didn’t want to give her a child. Whenever he became too energetic, as he liked to say, he had to remind himself of this fact. The thought of being inside of her and truly having her as his not only in marriage but body as well consumed him too often.

"I need to get undressed so I can go to sleep," he whispered. "My men are just below us."

To his surprise, Leonor sat up, her dress disheveled and her face flushed.

"That isn’t fair," she argued quietly. "I was so quiet that time in the outpost. Can’t you be quiet as well?"

His eye went to hers, no longer downcast and he wore an expression of helplessness for a moment.

He was going to ask what she meant, but she scooted to the edge of the bed and outstretched her foot. Her soft foot made it to the bulge that had grown larger.

The duke became helpless as he placed his hands over his mouth and willed his voice not to escape despite the circumstances that made her actions much more exciting.

His manhood threatened to escape the confines of his thick pants. They were perfect for traveling but awful to wear now that she had turned him on. Her actions only made it hurt worse, yet he didn’t dare free himself even if that was all he wanted.

"Sit on the bed," she ordered quietly, though there was a stern edge to her voice as she said a demand and not a request.

Even though he did as he was told, he still looked upon her with desperate confusion. He wanted an answer to his body’s request.

At his expression, Leonor adjusted her nightgown and stood up.

Unlike Desmond, she only had to bend her neck to stand in the small room where the highest point was over the bed and it was impossible to do much else in there except for sleep.

"You said you needed to get into your nightclothes as well," she reminded him. "I’m simply helping you."

Being husband and wife, she was privy to his habits. If he camped and it was warm enough, he took off his clothing down to under clothes.

So far, all he had taken off was his cloak, coat, boots, and gloves. At this, she stepped closer until she was kneeling over his lap and she began to undo the cream-colored undershirt he wore. It revealed his chest at first and she appreciatively ran her hands across two generous muscles and scars she was so very familiar with.

She untucked the shirt from his belted pants and helped him pull it off over his head.

Next was his belt which she found confusing until he directed her silently, placing her hands in the right spot and helping her undo it.

His light sword fell to the side and Leonor put it away with the leather belt.

She was then able to get to his pants.

Getting that low, she had to climb to the floor so the article of clothing she worked on was at nearly eye level. Her hands found the buttons but didn’t go further for a moment.

He looked down at her anxiously while she looked up at him with a light, guilty smile at how excited she had gotten. It felt like the tables had turned for once as she did what she pleased with him.

"Go on, Leonor," he whispered. "Help me into my nightclothes."