His Victorian Bride Box Set Read online

  His Victorian Bride

  The Complete 5-Book Series

  Copyright © 2019 Izzy Slam

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters depicted in this work are over the age of eighteen (18) years and are not related by blood.

  Cover model does not endorse the contents of this book.

  Table of Contents

  Book 1: Mean Daddy Duke

  Book 2: Cold Daddy Duke

  Book 3: Jealous Daddy Duke

  Book 4: Sharing Daddy Duke

  Book 5: Doctor & Daddy Duke

  Book 1

  Mean Daddy Duke

  Daddy Duke is a mean, mean man. Everyone knows this, and the whole town goes out of their way to stay out of his way. But as the town’s only blacksmith, he holds a lot of power, to the point of getting away with murder.

  Now, Daddy Duke plans to take a bride, and guess who he wants? Me. Sweet and innocent Emma. And I know this bastard of a man will want to give it to me rough and leave me raw. I should fear for my life. But I am drawn to this dangerous man…

  I can hear the clang of the hammer hitting steel as I approach Daddy Duke’s shop. I truly hope he is in a good mood today, especially since I was chosen as the “lucky” one to deliver his lunch.

  As he does most days, he came by the single ladies’ house earlier this morning and ordered a full spread: roast chicken, cooked whole potatoes, beans with ham, a loaf of bread, and a cherry pie for dessert. I have never known a man to eat so much at one meal, but Daddy Duke is a big, big man with a big, big appetite.

  Daddy Duke is also a mean, mean man. He has this snarl on his face most of the time, and when he comes to the town dances we have, he sits in the corner and barks at the bartender to bring him beer after beer. He has loads of money but refuses to ever leave a tip. And one time, a couple years ago, he choked a man to death, just because he suspected he had stolen some tools from his forge. Turns out he was right, but Daddy Duke was never arrested or thrown in jail because, well, we are all just plain scared of him. Plus, he is the only one blacksmith in town, refusing to mentor any boys who come his way. Nobody even knows why he goes by the name “Daddy Duke” but rumor has it he spawned a number of kids in New York before moving down here five years ago. Personally, I think he gets a thrill out of intimidating people, and he certainly has control issues, but I just try to stay out of his way.

  I have been pretty lucky so far with that endeavor, too. Every time he’s shown up at the home where I live with nine other single women, most of us scatter like prairie dogs. I notice him eyeing me, though, that hunger in his stare. A hunger you can’t describe but you know it when you see it. And I will admit, I am a little scared he might want to use me for his manly urges.

  I mean, I say I am scared, but the truth is, when I carry that fantasy out in my head, of him pushing me over a table and lifting my skirt up, I end up soaking my britches. Sometimes the heat overtakes me, and I have to touch myself. I am only nineteen years old, and I have never ever been with a man in the biblical sense. And Daddy Duke is a good thirty or thirty-five years old. He has had plenty of time to gain some experience in the boudoir area.

  I have a feeling that if Daddy Duke were to ever take a woman here, especially one so inexperienced, he would be rough. In fact, one of my closest friends, Arabella, says that she thinks he might be so uncontrolled when taking a woman, that he would kill her.

  “Maybe on purpose, maybe on accident, who knows, Emma. Who knows…” she had whispered to me one night as we lay in bed, trying to sleep.

  I don’t believe it. It would be dumb to kill a woman if she is bringing you pleasure. But I can sure see him leaving a few marks. With his hands and his teeth. And that thought makes me shiver with need.

  I reach the wooden building where Daddy Duke works, peeking through the open door. Sparks fly as he brings the tool down on his latest project. Sweat glistens on his massive arms, and he grunts with each blow. His dark, curly hair is dripping wet, and my core grows hot, my flesh tingling as I feel more and more drawn to him and his strength. And unfortunately, the basket that holds his food grows heavier and heavier, but I just cannot seem to walk to him, afraid that I might startle him and make him angry.

  He finally stands up, setting the large hammer down and wiping his hands down the front of his black apron before turning his head in my direction. His coal black eyes rake my body, and I realize I forgot to put on my long dress that is suitable for being in the presence of a single man, instead, leaving on the calf-length pants and white linen blouse that I had worn for my morning tasks.

  I force a smile, my nerves feeling more frayed than ever. “Hi, Daddy Duke. I … I have your lunch here.”

  “Well, don’t just stand there,” he grunts, nodding to the wooden table behind him. “Bring it on over here. I’m hungry.”

  Wonderful. I’ve just gotten here and already succeeded in making him angry. “Of course, Daddy Duke. Sorry.”

  I walk to the table and struggle to lift the basket, and he comes to me with a quickness, taking it by the handle and lifting it onto the wooden surface as if it weighs no more than a feather.

  “Oh, thank you.”

  He sniffs and eyes my bosom that is probably visible through the buttons of my shirt. “Why, my dear, are you thanking me for bringing me my lunch?”

  I swallow hard as he opens the straw lid and starts plundering around. “I just meant … thank you for helping me with this. It was getting pretty heavy.”

  He takes out the roast chicken and tosses the towel that covers it aside, jerking the leg off and taking a bite, leaving his lips shiny with grease.

  “I might be a bastard, but I am not going make a woman do man’s work.”

  I flash a genuine smile, feeling my cheeks blush. “You’re not a bastard, Daddy Duke.”

  He narrows his eyes at me, and I get the sudden impression I have not said something that pleases him.

  “Yes. I fucking. Am. Everyone knows not to mess with me, men and women alike. Now why don’t you sit your little bottom down and keep me company while I eat my lunch.”

  I have to grip the table, his words shock me so. “I—I would love to, but … I think I have to get back and help with the cleanup.”

  He sucks a piece of meat from his teeth and tosses the leg down, now nothing but bone. “This won’t take but thirty minutes. And then you can scoot on back and clean your little heart out. Now, take a seat so I don’t have to eat alone.”

  I nod, muttering an ‘okay’ under my breath, feeling like a cow headed for slaughter. As I sit next to him, he empties everything from the basket, making these moaning sounds when he gets a whiff of the beans and ham. All I can do is sit there and think that with any luck, he will keep his word and let me go back home soon.

  “So, you live with all those single, beautiful fucking ladies, huh.” He shovels a spoonful of beans in his mouth.

  Obviously, Daddy Duke is not known for having a refined manner of speech.

  “I suppose I do.”

  Using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, I wonder if anyone has ever taken the time to show him any manners of any kind.

  “Daddy Duke,” I say, handing him a piece of white linen. “You have a napkin here. Feel free to use it, if you wish.”

  He glances at it, then back at me. “Why don’t you do it for me?”

  “Oh, okay.” I stand up and use the napkin to wipe around his lips, feeling awkward enough to turn red in the face. He has a lot of black soot on his cheeks, but I don’t bother with t
hat because I don’t want to stain the napkin. “There, that’s much better.”

  I start to sit back down, but Daddy Duke grabs my wrist, boring his dark angry eyes into mine, and takes the napkin from my grip before inspecting my hand up close.

  “You have nice fingers.” I lift my brows, right as he sucks my index finger past his lips, sucking me like one of those sticks of peppermint from Dottie’s mercantile down the road.

  My jaw drops, and I softly gasp as my womanhood responds instantly to the brush of his tongue on my digit. My core ignites, and my britches become soaked as he pulls my middle finger in his mouth too.

  He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he swirls his tongue in seductive circles, and I am a trembling mess trying to figure out what is going on.

  “Mm-mm-mm,” he finally moans, releasing my fingers from his mouth. “You have clean hands. I like a girl with clean hands. It means she is clean everywhere.”

  I bite my lip and my nipples prick so hard they nearly hurt. “Thank you, Daddy Duke. I do like to think of myself as clean.”

  “I will bet you have a dirty mind, though, don’t you, darlin’?”

  “Uhh, I don’t know what you mean.” I sit back down and press my thighs together, and Daddy Duke moves his gaze up and down my flesh.

  After tearing off a huge bite of bread, he moves his hand to the crotch of his britches and rubs, making my ache for him run that much deeper.

  “I think you know what I mean. You are not dumb like one of those whores I paid for at the brothel in New York.”

  I am not sure if that’s a compliment or not, but I feel like it’s intended to be … something.

  “What I’m saying is that it’s been a while since I have had a toy. And I’ve been thinking about taking a bride. Someone from that single ladies’ house. Do you think there might be someone there who is a good fit for a bastard like me?” He lifts a brow in question.

  I squeeze my thighs together tighter, thinking about what it would be like to be his wife. The throb between my legs intensifies, and my flesh feels like it’s on fire. This is crazy, too, because who knows how mean he would be to his wife. Being married to him might be pure hell.

  “I don’t know, Daddy Duke. There are so many beautiful women there that would be lucky to have you for a husband. It’s hard to pick just one—”

  He holds up a hand and throws the bread down. “Stop right there. All you had to say to that question was one word. A name, Emma. A simple name would have sufficed.”

  Feeling humiliated, I lean back and lower my head. “Very well. How about—”

  “Me.” He interrupts.

  I look up and he’s rubbing his penis through his pants. “That’s all you had to say, was ‘me.’”

  I point to my chest, lifting a brow. “You are talking about … me?”

  He chuckles and nods, and then his face turns serious. “I think you need Daddy Duke inside of you. You might not be aware of it, but I’ve seen the way you look at me, and I can see your cheeks blushing at the thought of it all, your eyes dilating like a wild animal before being caught by her mate. I’d bet ten dollars that your tight little pussy is soaked right now, isn’t it?”

  I chew on the inside of my cheek, too stunned to answer.

  Daddy Duke shoves his food aside and turns his chair outward, curling a finger at me. “Come, sit in my lap. Let Daddy tell you a story.”

  Shuddering from fear, I get out of my chair and move to his lap. He spins me until my back is to him, and then he pulls me back until my bottom is situated over his hardness. I feel it bump against me as he puts his giant hands on the tops of my legs. Suddenly, my fear abates, and I am hot all over once again.

  “Once upon a time,” he begins, softly playing with my hair. “There was a beautiful, sexy, sweet little virgin named Emma. She lived in a big house with all her friends, and she thought her life was perfect. But then,” he continues, tightening his grip around my hair, “the town smith decided he needed a bride to take possession of.”

  I huff as his penis bumps against my bottom, and I find myself rubbing against it ever so slightly. I just can’t help myself.

  “But everyone was scared of this big, mean beast. No one wanted to marry him. They thought, that bastard of a man won’t treat his bride right. He’ll hurt her body, and he’ll hurt her feelings. Even sweet Emma wondered if she could trust him to not … destroy her. But let me tell you something…”

  Daddy Duke’s free hand wanders up to my chest, and he finds my nipples through the linen shirt, giving them a pinch that makes me hiss.

  He moves his lips to my ear, and I feel his breath as he tugs my hair. “There was only one way for sweet and sexy Emma to find out if Daddy Duke would hurt her or make her squeal from pleasure.”

  I am hardly aware of it, but I’m rubbing my little bottom on his crotch so hard that his erection has pressed between my cheeks, even through the material of my girlie pants.

  “Now,” he adds, his voice turning into a growl, “wouldn’t you love to find out which one it is?”

  “Yes, Daddy Duke. Oh yesss,” I whisper, rolling my hips one more time. The thick seam rubs my clitoris, and I cum, my pussy throbbing over and over as Daddy Duke groans in my ear and rubs my nipples.

  I feel him thrust his hips a few times, then the warmth of his cum as it soaks the fabric wedged between my ass cheeks. He growls, low and rumbly as the both of us move against one another. Heat ripples over my flesh, moving from my face to my belly.

  Then suddenly, with no warning, he pushes me off of his lap and grabs the basket from the table, passing it to me sharply.

  “Take this and get on back to your house.” He sniffs and rubs his pants. I can see the giant wet spot there, a combination of my juices mixed with his seed. Oh no. Had we really done that?

  “Yes sir, Daddy.” He flicks his eyes up at me and clenches his fists on his legs. “I like the way you say that. You’ll be my baby, and I’ll be your daddy.”

  I sink my teeth into my lower lip and nod quickly.

  “Run on, then. I’ll be by later this afternoon to get you and take you home. You’ll be my bride and I’ll own you outright.”

  I suck in a rush of air as I turn on my heels, smiling more brightly than I ever have.

  ***

  Daddy arranged for a long white dress to be delivered to the house an hour later, and the lady even took me to the bath to give my hair a good washing.

  “Don’t you want to use the good soap?” I ask her, wondering why she was solely focusing on my long locks.

  “No, miss. Daddy Duke said he wanted your body to have its own natural scent. No perfumes or anything fancy.”

  But apparently he wants my hair to be fancy. She spends another hour curling it and placing dozens of small, white flowers in a delicate circle around the crown of my head, making me look like an angel.

  Everyone had heard that Daddy Duke was marrying me, and some of my friends were excited for me, but most of them showed concern more than anything.

  Arabella pulls me aside, right before I’m supposed to walk outside to the garden where the wedding will take place.

  “Are you okay, Emma? Are you frightened?”

  I wrap my arms around her so I can hide my smile. “Yes, I am fine. A little scared, but I have faith that Daddy will be good to me.”

  She pushes me gently away and looks me directly in the eyes. “Did you just say ‘daddy’?”

  I can no longer hide my happiness. “Yes. He wants me to call him that.”

  I watch as her cheeks flush, and I cannot help but wonder if she is getting aroused. “Well, that’s … nice.”

  I giggle, unable to control the excitement I feel.

  Daddy Duke wants me. Out of all these beautiful single women here, he chose me.

  Our wedding ceremony is simple, with all the townspeople present. The church leaders are all present as well, and I can see the look of concern on a few of their faces.

  But mostly I notice how
handsome my daddy is. He’s dressed in a suit and even took the time to buff his shoes. His eyes graze over me languidly, and I find myself beaming at him as I stand before him. He does not break a smile, but that’s okay. I don’t really expect him to.

  After I vow to be his wife, to love him and keep him for all the days of my life, the minister says that he can kiss his bride. Daddy places his large hands on either side of my face and puts his lips to mine, pressing them so hard I think my teeth might cut into my lip.

  He then cups my face and I hear him breathing hard and deep, his coal black eyes sparkling with need. “The real kiss will have to wait,” he grits out. “Lest I get so stirred up I end up taking you right here and now, in front of all these townsfolk.”

  My britches underneath my pretty dress dampen and heat flows through my veins. He takes me by the hand and walks down the pathway that leads to the street as everyone stands and wishes us well, tossing seeds and dried beans in our direction for good fortune and fertility.

  Suddenly, I am so nervous I can hardly walk right. I find myself tripping over my own two feet. I barely catch a glimpse of Arabella before we are gone, and she is standing on her tippy toes in order to keep her eyes on us, biting her lip and batting her eyes. I think she wants her own husband now. Maybe Daddy knows someone from New York who would be a good suitor.

  And why am I even thinking of such things right after becoming the wife of the meanest man in town?

  I nearly trip again, and Daddy scoops me up in his arms. “Girl, did you forget how to walk?” he asks.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and nuzzle close. “I am nervous, Daddy. Forgive me.”

  His hands cup my bottom. “You ought to be nervous. You are my wife now, and I can do whatever I want to you.”

  Fear grips me, and I realize he’s right. I belong to the meanest man in town, the one man who could kill me with his bare hands. The man who has killed before.

  “But you know,” he says, kicking open his front door. “I picked you for a reason.”

  He sets me down on the floor and I stumble backwards, grabbing ahold of a wingback chair. “You did, Daddy?”