Chapter 24 #2
Bridget’s breath quickened. She brought her thighs together, aware of the warmth and dampness gathering in her core. Her knees trembled, as her husband trailed hot kisses along the line of her jaw, her neck, her throat—
“But you have such ingenuity. Such cleverness,” he murmured, against her collarbone. “Of course. You are the intrepid heroine, after all.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
Her thighs were bare. Bridget’s skirts were gathered up past her stomach and held in place by their bodies.
Lewis stroked the inside of her thighs, his hands slowly moving to grasp her buttocks.
He kneaded her rear, and Bridget’s back arched.
Despite her resolve to hide her growing desire, a low and longing moan tore from Bridget’s throat.
“You have pushed me too far,” he said. “I intend to make you regret it.”
Oh! That was precisely what she wanted. Bridget had won, at last!
With a smile, she brought a hand up and curled it in his hair.
His thumb pushed against that delightful place at the apex of her thighs, and Bridget trembled.
A sharp ache formed between her legs, which she parted in silent encouragement.
“I am the only woman that you will ever touch like this,” Bridget said.
“Oh, yes. You have my word on that.”
Bridget should not find anything tempting or charming about the possibility of them being caught, but despite all reason and rational thought, her hips jolted against him. The thought of doing something illicit and being caught and—and—
And not ruined was more intoxicating than any thought she had ever had. Oh, their behavior was disgraceful, but what was the worst that might result from it? A few rumors?
Bridget was already disgraced in the eyes of the ton, and she was wed. It was not as though she needed to keep an unsullied reputation for the marriage mart any longer.
“Everyone knows that you are a wild, young miss with a string of scandals behind you,” Lewis said. “A temptress. And we both know that you wanted this.”
His eyes sparkled with something playful, and Bridget’s lips twitched into a small smile. She did not entirely understand the situation; there were too many things to think about. But she realized that it was a game and one that she was delighted to play.
“I did not,” she lied. “I am genuinely concerned that you might be meeting mistresses, and as I understand it, the best way to dissuade you from visiting your mistress is to ensure that your needs are satisfied.”
“Is that what you believe is going to happen?”
He slipped a finger between her folds, and Bridget’s thighs trembled. Lewis stroked her, quickening his movements, and Bridget’s breath came in hot gasps for air. She bucked her hips, all her thoughts going hazy as he brought her closer and closer to the pleasure she so desperately desired.
“Hm?” Lewis prompted.
He still wanted an answer.
“Y-yes,” she stammered.
Bridget did not entirely know what consummation was like, only a vague sketch of all the details, but if his fingers could bring her such pleasure, Bridget shivered in anticipation of what she would feel once he was inside her.
“I see.”
With every touch, the muscles in Bridget’s stomach grew tighter.
That familiar pleasure curled inside her, burning her from the inside.
She tried desperately to put her thoughts into order and to think of something witty to say, but all her thoughts fell apart and shattered like glass.
The whole world fell away, except for the sensations coursing through her body and the heat of her husband’s eyes on her.
A ragged groan tore from Bridget. She bucked her hips against him, her bare skin brushing against the fabric of his fine trousers and his jacket. “Oh, look at you,” Lewis murmured. “So close to what you desire.”
She was! Bridget jolted against his body, her hips moving without conscious thought.
She brought her hands to his shoulders and dug her nails into his jacket.
Bridget clung to him, forcing herself to remain upright as her knees shook and her thighs trembled.
She tossed her head back, and a strangled moan escaped her.
Bridget knew that she was being loud, and doubtlessly, the staff had heard her.
Heat rushed to her face, but she did not care enough to ask her husband to stop, not when she was so near pleasure.
Her body was alive like never before. It seemed impossible for her to contain all the sensations coursing through her, and she was certain that she must soon shatter to pieces and—
He withdrew his hand. Bridget let out a wail of despair and bucked wildly against him, trying to find the same rhythm that he had. When her efforts failed, she tore away from him. Her fingers seized her skirts, and she had a wild thought of reaching for her core and trying to find pleasure herself.
The infuriating man smiled. “Did you think you had won? I told you that you would have no pleasure until you learned to be a proper wife and duchess, and I am a man of my word.”
A strange feeling overcame her, buried somewhere deep beneath the surge of displeasure of being unsatisfied. “Maybe I can be a better duchess,” she said, her blood roaring in her ears. “If you were not so cold to me.”
“Do you believe I am cold?” he asked. “I have just given you such careful attention.”
“Yes,” Bridget said. ‘But maybe—maybe I want something besides just this. I want you to look at me with some fondness. Even just a little.”
A look of uncertainty crossed his face. “I see.”
“Could you try?” Bridget ventured.
If he would not, Bridget was going to be furious with her sister for advising her to confront her husband about her needs. Lewis smiled tentatively and bowed. “My dear wife, I regret to depart, but as I told you, I have some business to attend to this afternoon. Good day.”
Bridget dug her nails into her hands until her palms hurt. She wanted to scream and storm after him.
He paused at the doorway and glanced back at her. Lewis seemed suddenly unable to meet her eyes. “I cannot promise to feel any certain way for you, but if it will please you…I might be willing to try. If you are.”
He walked through the door, while she struggled and failed to find a suitable response.
The door closed behind him. With a final scowl, Bridget let her skirts drop. Her core still pulsed and ached with unsatisfied desire, and it was all her husband’s fault. But strangely, the moment felt like a victory—even if it was not exactly the one she intended on winning.