Milked For The Regency Duke: A Regency Breeding Historical Erotic Romance

I swore an oath to my bloodline. Heirs. Legacy. A dukedom untainted by scandal. Cold restraint has been my creed since boyhood, every decision weighed on scales of propriety. Then she came to my estate. Orphaned. Adrift. A gentlewoman whose wide eyes hid a hunger for belonging she dared not voice. One glimpse of her silhouette against candlelight, and something savage uncoiled in my chest.

Her body mocked Regency decorum from the first. Swollen curves straining against muslin, betraying a lactation no corset could contain. I should have sent her away. Protected her fragility from my gaze. Instead, I cornered her in shadowed bedchambers, where fresh milk scented the air like forbidden sin. My fingers found her glistening swells first. Urgent. Insistent. Drawing forth warm streams that trailed down silk sheets. She gasped defiance, but her hips arched toward my claiming thrust, begging to be filled. Bred. Utterly possessed.

Velvet-gloved violation, that's what we became. Elegant dinners where my hand grazed the small of her back, promising nights of sweat-slicked collapse. Her mouth on mine tasted of shameful ecstasy, her leaks anointing my tongue as I drank deep. Duty chains me tighter with every stolen union. This obsession could end her hard-won security, strip her independence bare. Worse, it tempts me to abandon the title that defines me. For her yielding form. Her soul laid open beneath me.

What terrifies me most? The way she unravels my ironclad solitude, making me crave not just her milk, but her whispered yearnings in the dark. One more night, and I shatter us both. Or do I dare forge a future from this drenched ruin?

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E-bog: 24. april 2026