The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 134: Forever

Chapter 134: Forever

In a state that could only be described as semi-daze, Rosalie moved with a deliberate slowness down the long, dimly illuminated corridor of the Dio mansion, her destination set for the master bedroom. Ever since their wedding night, the girl never moved back to her original bedroom. Instead, she chose to inhabit the room she shared with Damien before his departure, spending every night on the vast, expansive bed, finding solace in its grandeur, perhaps reluctant to sever the last vestige of intimacy she shared with Damien.

Her mind buzzed incessantly, inundated by a cacophony of intricate thoughts and emotions. The memory of her conversation with the Izaar twins replayed vividly in her thoughts, occupying a prominent place in her mental landscape. Of paramount significance, however, was Rostan’s audacious yet irresistibly alluring proposition.

Despite her earnest efforts, Lady Ashter found herself unable to dispel the disconcerting sense of bewilderment that the prince’s offer had sown within her heart. His proposal carried a straightforward message: join the twins on a journey to the Empire of Izaar and assist them in establishing a nationwide charity initiative under her meticulous and conscientious guidance. While this undoubtedly represented a splendid opportunity for the duchess to broaden her sphere of influence and enhance her standing, the associated price tag was notably steep.

Rosalie could not resist the urge to immerse herself once again in deep contemplation, grappling with the weighty decision before her,

’If I could be certain that Evangelina would arrive to aid Damien in breaking his curse, I would readily accept the offer without much hesitation. After all, my intention had been to part ways with Damien sooner or later, and this opportunity could have been the ideal moment for such a transition. But now... Now, everything has become extremely complicated. Declining this proposition might be deemed terribly impolite... Can I truly embark on this journey? And if I do... Will I ever return?’

Lost in the whirlwind of her anxious musings, the duchess did not register that she had already entered the bedroom. In a state of absent-minded contemplation, she slowly lowered herself onto the plush bed, her gaze fixed vacantly ahead. With a careless air, she sank further into the bed, extending her arms like wings, and wearily shut her eyes. A long, weighted sigh escaped her lips as she surrendered to the quietude of the moment.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped wide open, and the girl almost leaped from the bed as the realization struck that she lay atop an unexpected presence.

Still baffled, Rosalie slowly turned around, her gaze locking onto a familiar black uniform jacket, causing her big grey eyes to widen in near astonishment.

’What is happening? How did this get here...?’

Just as she completed that thought, a faint creak from the bathroom door diverted her focus toward it. Her bewildered gaze landed on the towering, tanned figure of her husband, causing her to instantly freeze in place.

Her heart raced wildly and loudly, its thunderous beats resonating like a huge drum inside her skull. She found herself at a loss for words, unsure of what to say or even think, her mind seeming to have emptied itself of all thought, at last. In that moment, time appeared to either stall or stretch, rendering everything around her irrelevant. She could not even discern if she was still breathing.

It was unquestionably him—the same towering stature, the same sun-kissed complexion, the familiar raven-black hair, and that enduring touch of melancholy on his handsome face. It was Damien. He had returned. He was home.

It appeared that speech and movement had abandoned them both. Only their eyes engaged in a ceaseless dance, as if striving to decipher whether the presence before them belonged to dream or reality. Rosalie’s eyes registered wide perplexity, while Damien’s cold, golden gaze carried a shadow of sadness and sorrow.

Finally, as though compelled to break the oppressive silence, Rosalie slightly parted her lips and uttered, unexpectedly soft,

"Damien..."

The duke’s reply was not in his words but in his actions. He took a few big, resolute steps toward his wife and embraced her inside his strong arms, tightly pressing her against the hot, damp skin of his exposed chest.

In that very moment, the world lost its meaning once more. Rosalie experienced an overwhelming sense of relief and tranquility, as if an immense burden had been lifted from her tender shoulders. The warmth of Damien’s skin, his familiar musky scent, the rhythmic melody of his heartbeat, and the steady rise and fall of his chest... Every aspect of him held an enchanting and soothing quality, serving as a poignant reminder of just how deeply she had longed for his presence.

Damien tenderly pressed his lips against the crown of Rosalie’s head, softly kissing her silken hair and savoring their sweet fragrance. It was a shared sentiment – the sensation of proximity to Rosalie, the embrace of her form within his strong arms, and the rhythmic cadence of her breath... All the disquiet that had nagged at him relentlessly since his episode on the battlefield now gradually melted away, replaced by a soothing, enveloping warmth.

Nonetheless, even as he held her close, fully aware of her reality in his arms, an undercurrent of anxiety coursed through Damien. Since his encounter with the ominous black beast, he found it impossible to rid himself of the unsettling sensation of betrayal, the irksome pang of abandonment, and the infuriating fear of losing someone as precious as Rosalie.

He wanted to protect her even more than he did before. He wanted to shield her from any danger that might come her way. He wanted her to feel safe. He wanted her to feel safe with him. He wanted her to be with him. Forever.

At last, having suppressed the turmoil of her insane emotions, Rosalie gently withdrew her body from Damien’s, still allowing herself to remain in his affectionate embrace, then looked into his somewhat melancholic eyes, and said in the same quiet voice,

"You should have let me know... I was not ready––"

Her half-hearted reprimand remained incomplete as Damien’s tender, warm lips descended upon hers, rendering her momentarily speechless. Contrary to Rosalie’s expectations, his kiss was not marked by patience but rather ignited with fervor. He kissed her with an urgency that implied their very lives hung in the balance, yet the duchess found herself wholly receptive to it. In fact, once she tasted her husband’s lips, she became intoxicated again, losing herself entirely to the moment and surrendering to the passionate embrace.

As the passion began to spread all over their bodies, Rosalie felt her knees giving up as well, nearly prompting her to succumb to the relentless force of gravity if it were not for Damien’s quick reaction. With one swift motion, he gently grabbed her body under her back and knees, his lips unwilling to part with hers, and carefully placed her on top of the bed, hovering over her like a large, desperate beast.

At first, Rosalie made a safe assumption of believing that after months away from her, Damien was simply in dire need of her Acme once again. However, as her mind was finally beginning to regain clarity, she found no traces of Acme whatsoever. Their bodies were not controlled by the power of Asmodeus. They were controlling their bodies themselves.

’This is... Just like the wedding night. He is not doing it because he wants my Acme. He is not doing it because he is desperate to find relief. He wants... He is desperate for me. Me. He genuinely wants me.’

And that was enough to make her melt completely once again, to forget about everything else in the entire world, to only focus on Damien, to only focus on them.

Despite the evident sense of despair in Damien’s movements, his touch was careful and gentle as if he was constantly aware of everything he was doing, scared that even a single wrong motion would make Rosalie get hurt or even worse, disappear completely.

Every kiss, every touch, every caress, every single contact of their flesh felt like magic; like something that was as natural as breathing; like something that was invented by the two of them and belonged only to the two of them. It was not a simple act of intimacy anymore, it was a private experience, a shared experience of love and passion that only the two of them could understand.

And the longer they shared their bodies with one another, the more the distinction between them blurred. For the first time in both of their lives, being so close to another person never felt easier, tempting, desirable... As if they wanted nothing more but to be right there, so close to each other, forever.

And as the night slowly went on, the insatiable passion that urged their bodies to keep moving began to dissipate as well, allowing them to finally catch their breaths, still clinging to each other’s presence, still scared to let go.

If only that night could last forever.