Bridgerton: The Duke And I Novels & Stories

He stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. “Victoria,” his voice was soft, tinged with something she couldn’t quite place. “You’re still here.” Her heart stuttered in her chest, a mix of confusion and anger washing over her. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice sharp, betraying none of the emotions swirling inside her. “You were the one who left me.” The Duke didn’t flinch. He stepped further into the room, his eyes never leaving hers. “I couldn’t stay away,” he said simply, his words heavy with meaning. “Not after everything that happened. Not after seeing the way Lord Thomas treated you.”

Duke moaned deeply as her pussy swallowed his cock easily. "Oh, we fit so well together, don't we?" She purred and turned towards the camera. A gasp left my lips. I knew her face. It was Thalia. Marcus's widow. His late best friend's wife. The same woman Duke had held in his hands while she cried at her husband's funeral fourteen months ago. "Ride me baby," Duke growled as he gripped her ass hard, lifting her high and bringing her down against his cock. "Yesssss..."

“And you already decided you’re coming home with us, so there’s no point wasting energy pretending otherwise.” Juliette’s jaw dropped. She half-laughed, half-choked. “Wow. At least let a woman have some pride.” Duke moved like a fucking viper one second surveying the room, the next his hand was in her hair, threading through those thick dark strands and tilting her head back just the way I’d fantasized about earlier. Then he angled her toward me and dipped low, whispering in her ear, “Who needs pride when you could be coming in five minutes?”

Anna asked. “My personal assistant found a note in my father’s papers signed by your father, promising a marriage between the Seventh Duke of Springbrook and your father’s daughter.” He gave her that predator’s smile again. “I am the Seventh Duke of Springbrook and you, I believe, are your father’s daughter.” Anna smoothed her already smooth jeans then clasped her fidgeting hands in her lap. “Yes, but my father said it was a gentleman’s agreement. A handshake that they both then forgot about.”

Then added, “With some steam.” Hayden pinched my butt. “Naughty girl.” I pinched his arm or tried to. His skin was hard and soft at the same time, made with muscles and tears of children, probably. “How about this? The Duke and The Princess,” he said, surprising me with a shirtless cover of a faceless Duke and the heroine in a scandalous red corset dress. I was busy reading the blurb, but he turned the page on the screen and had started reading it. I sighed, melting over him, and listened to his rumbling husky voice.

As her vision slowly returned, she was looking up to a face she could hardly cast off her mind the whole evening. The duke was standing with her, his hands gripping her elbows, keeping her from falling. The moonbeams gleamed on his hair, turning it to white. Even in the dark, the blue of his eyes were shining brilliantly as if they held their own inner light. Suddenly he released his grip with a jerk, forcing her to step back. "I know who you are." Unlike before, his voice was calm and smooth now, yet she felt the hair on her nape rose. "Ava Sofia Marlowe, your parents are the Duke of Livingston and Desiree Marlowe. You are betrothed to Roger Irving."

Miss Tellaro did not choose to fancy anything so absurd, and quelled her chaperon with a frown. Mrs Andromeda was right in her conjecture - it was the Duke of Venice. He came out of the church after the service with Lord and Lady Roma IX, a burly, red-faced gentleman with very staring blue eyes and a pear shaped head. Mrs Andromeda, who had lingered strategically on the pretext of exchanging greetings with an acquaintance, contrived to be in the way. Lady Roma bowed and smiled, but the Duke, with his rather protuberant eyes fixed on Miss Tellaro, he very palpably twitched her sleeve.

Duke saw how that bastard Jonathan was looking at his wife lustfully. Duke clenched his fists in anger as he remembered Jonathan's looks. After drinking the water, Lelia put the glass of water on the table, and then she felt that someone was looking at her. Lelia turned around and saw Duke was standing in the living room. He was staring at me. Lelia was a little surprised to see the Duke dressed in black. Their clothes were matching. It looks like they are going on a date in matching outfits. Lelia smiled shyly as this thought came to mind. She looked at her husband. The shirt was looking so on on him.

boomed, the voice I was sure, belonged to none other than Duke Paul Alexander. I made a small bow but did not let go of Philip’s hand as we had our fingers entwined. My eyes didn’t escape the small clenched of the duke’s jaw. He obviously was mad with me, I’m supposed to be his mate. But if he thinks he’s going to fool me again, he’s wrong. He may look strikingly handsome in his three-piece gray suit, the fabric hugging all of his muscle. It’s like the air from the North inflated him. Wait, why do I even care about his bulky frame?

“Mr. Duke is in the hospital,” “Fuck! How dare he!? I won’t let him come between us!”