My lips start to feel numb from the pressure of the Duke's.
He hasn't kissed me in a long while, maybe worried about the inconvenience of his wounded palm. I have to keep it in mind. And also to avoid brusque movements that might catch his hand by accident.
It's hard to be the one to think so much, though. My Duke has always been careful with me, and I've never felt any discomfort with him. If we forget about the first night of marriage, I've never felt any pain over the limit I can enjoy. He blindfolded, bit and even restrained me many times, but not even once made me regret that I let him take the lead.
As much as I'd like to think that it's his natural talent, there's no way a man knows so much about a woman's body without first-hand experience.
I'd like to know whom he practised so much with, though. It's just curiosity, I have no ill intention. What woman in the whole Empire had such a man in her bed and let him run away.
