The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 107: You Have To Return

Chapter 107: You Have To Return

With that, Damien slid his hot tongue over the girl’s earlobe, making her shut her eyes again and shiver as the pleasant, tickling sensation spread all over her skin in an instant. He then gently grabbed her by the chin and turned her face toward him, offering her a somewhat hazy glance and a subtle, sly smile.

"Indulge me, Rosalie... Say my name. Please."

Rosalie found herself deeply perplexed by a sudden shift in his demeanor. When had he grown so audacious and direct? What surprised her even more was his newfound skill in navigating a woman’s body, seemingly without the influence of Asmodeus’s power.

Intriguingly, this unexpected transformation proved rather enticing. To be honest, Rosalie had secretly longed to address the duke by his given name for quite some time. Now, as she struggled to resist the delightful shivers coursing through her with every warm breath Damien brushed against her delicate skin, she finally mustered the courage to part her lips and softly whispered in response,

"Damien."

The sound of his own name seemed to have evoked another surge of passion within the man. With a short, suppressed groan, he bit Rosalie’s neck, leaving a pink mark on its soft skin and swiftly moved down her body, spreading her legs wider, and positioning himself between them. The girl gasped, instinctively grabbing the duke by his hair in an attempt to withdraw his face but the man did not cave in. As if the pain of pulling his hair did not matter, Damien leaned in closer and slid his hot wet tongue over his wife’s naked skin, savoring another slight shiver and hushed moan that his little action managed to force out of her body.

And with that, he greedily pressed his sensual lips against Rosalie’s most sensitive spot and started his play, sucking on it gently, teasing it with his tongue while carefully caressing the girl’s tender stomach and thighs with his big warm hands, not allowing her to move away from him for even a single moment.

Damien found himself utterly astonished by his own inability to restrain his desires. Initially, he suspected that he might be succumbing to another seizure. However, as his captivating golden eyes fell upon the exquisite sight of Rosalie’s naked form, a revelation dawned upon him. His mind remained surprisingly clear, and the potent, all-consuming, and fervent longing coursing through him was undeniably his genuine desire for the woman he held tenderly in his arms.

As he kept moving his lips and tongue, Rosalie’s tempting response dazed his mind entirely, prompting his desire to surge even more, nearly gluing his body to hers, melting the surface of their skin together with the overwhelming fire of lust.

"D-Damien, I..."

The powerful electrifying sensation that began to spread all over Lady Ashter’s body made her finally come back to her senses – she was about to come and she could not help it, the pleasure she received from Damien’s sensual touch was too much to bear, yet somehow, she was still afraid to relish it all, and asked the duke to stop.

She instinctively covered her mouth with her right hand, sinking her teeth into the skin of her palm. However, Damien swiftly intervened, gently prying her hand away, and his demeanor took an unexpectedly earnest turn.

"Rosalie. Look at me."

With gradual deliberation, she shifted her gaze, locking it onto Damien’s glistening eyes. He tenderly brushed her cheek with the back of his left hand, his face adorned with an unfamiliar, enigmatic smile—one she had never witnessed on him before.

"Please, Rosalie, don’t hide your face. Let me see it. Tonight, allow me to witness your entirety."

For a reason that eluded her understanding entirely, hearing Damien utter those words proved sufficient to relinquish all inhibitions once more; to surrender and indulge in the pleasure that might never grace their lives again.

***

Rosalie stirred, her eyes slowly parting in response to a distant rustle that penetrated the thick veil of her slumber. The hours of bliss she had shared with Damien had left her petite frame drained of energy, and despite her best efforts to resist the encroaching exhaustion, her eyelids stubbornly conspired to draw her into the soothing embrace of much-needed rest.

Finally, as her eyes struggled to focus, they settled upon Damien, seated beside her, resplendent in his Shadow Knight battle attire. His deep, serpent eyes were unwaveringly fixed upon her drowsy yet adorable face.

"Damien? Oh dear, I must have dozed off! You are ready to depart already!"

Frustrated, she nearly leaped out of bed, only to recoil in pain and exhaustion, the aftermath of the passionate hours they had shared before her body surrendered to fatigue. The duke, attentive to her discomfort, guided Rosalie back to her horizontal repose, draping a silk blanket tenderly over her shoulders. With a soft smile, he ran his gloved hand through her messy hair and said,

"Don’t rise just yet. It’s still early. I am departing for the Holy Temple with His Highness and our fellow knights. We will set forth after receiving the High Priest’s blessing."

Lady Ashter shifted her drowsy gaze toward the round clock adorning the wall, noting the hands pointing to five, indicating that the sun had yet to grace the sky. Observing her husband fully prepared to depart, she surmised that, unlike her, he had not managed a wink of sleep.

’I have no one to blame but myself. I kept him awake all night, and now he has to depart. My damned, insatiable greed.’

She contemplated launching yet another battle, this time against her own feeble body, determined to muster the strength for one more attempt to rise. However, Damien gently grabbed her shoulders, easing her back onto the velvety embrace of the sheets.

"Hold on a moment, Damien. Let me prepare as well. I will at least see you off!"

The duke responded with another gentle shake of his head, accompanied by a smile, his eyes radiating a heartwarming blend of happiness and affection.

"Just knowing that you had that desire means the world to me. Please, take some more rest. I am accustomed to handling things on my own; you need not go through all this trouble, Rosalie."

"But I genuinely want to! It’s no trouble at all. This is what a wife, a Duchess, the mistress of our household should do, isn’t it?"

Rosalie’s unwavering tone, coupled with her wide, sparkling gray eyes and her firm, resolute expression, momentarily gave Damien pause. He needed a moment to gather his thoughts, grappling with the strength of her determination. Eventually, he softened, allowing his features to relax and his heart to once again melt within his chest.

This woman, the very one who had captivated his heart and thoughts since the day their paths first crossed in the Temple gardens; the one who had boldly extended her hand in support; she was now his wife. And despite the undeniable truth that she had become his first and only vulnerability, he had to concede that marrying her, no matter the circumstances, was a choice he would never regret.

"Very well. It is hard to argue when you are so utterly endearing. I will summon a maid to assist you with your preparations. I will be waiting by the mission gates, and I promise I won’t depart until I have your blessing."

***

Time was of the essence, and Rosalie could not afford to squander it on meticulous preparations. She cared little for how unconventional she might appear in the eyes of others; her sole concern rested with Damien and his imminent departure. The looming fear that even a single minute spent on primping would carve regret deep into her heart fueled her urgency.

Resolving not to await Aurora’s assistance, Lady Rosalie took matters into her own hands. With swift determination, she splashed her face with ice-cold water, the shock of it infusing a rosy hue into her porcelain complexion. Gathering her unruly, cascading locks into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, she allowed a few wayward, wavy locks to grace her shoulders. Then, she hastily donned the first dress she laid hands on in the closet and wrapped herself in a thick, woven shawl, navigating the hushed solemnity of the still-slumbering mansion with purpose.

Though nearly drained of strength, she exerted every ounce of it to nudge the towering front door ajar, then bolted outside. Her feet pounded on the cold, treacherously slippery stone path, carrying her swiftly to the main gate, where she ultimately crumpled into the welcoming embrace of her patiently waiting husband.

"Thank heavens... I had this nagging fear you’d depart before I could bid you one final farewell."

Initially taken aback, Damien tenderly placed a kiss atop Rosalie’s head and offered her a warm smile, enfolding her in a tighter embrace.

"I did promise, didn’t I?"

The lady gently disentangled herself from the embrace of the duke, fixing her gaze upon him. Her eyes moved with deliberate slowness, as though she aimed to etch every nuance of his countenance into her memory. Then, she rested her cool palms against his cheeks, drawing his handsome face nearer. Her voice, in this moment, bore a subtle note of admonishment.

"Please, stay safe. You must come back. Promise me that you will."

Damien smiled, closing his eyes, his gloved hands enveloping Rosalie’s.

"I promise."

Then, gently withdrawing her hands from his face, he drew nearer, his lips meeting those of his trembling wife. The kiss he bestowed upon her was a bittersweet farewell, infused with both enduring hope and poignant regret.

And with that, he departed. His stallion’s ebony silhouette, the sweeping obsidian cape that billowed like a raven’s wing, and the subtle glint of his silver-adorned uniform glistening against the dawning sun—all gradually receded as he moved away, leaving naught but a chilling, heart-wrenching void in his wake.

Rosalie remained standing before the open gate, her gaze fixed vacantly on the distant horizon. Her fingers clung tightly to the shawl, its fabric soft but chilled against her touch. The passage of time eluded her as Damien had vanished into the imposing, dark thicket of the forest. Yet, she sensed that if it were possible, she might have stood there eternally, awaiting his secure homecoming.

Drawing a deep breath that served to anchor her in the present, Rosalie brushed away the tears that had welled in her eyes. In a hushed, fervent whisper, she spoke, her words carrying a weight of determination and grief,

"You must return, Damien. You must meet Evangelina."