Chapter 24
“Why do you keep looking at me like that, Adrian?” Bridget asked.
Her tone was teasing, far from the accusatory edge that used to echo in her voice. Adrian took in her rosy cheeks and her green eyes, which, while they held a hint of exhaustion, still sparkled with mirth.
It had been several weeks since he had taken her on their first outing as husband and wife, and in that time, he had watched her bloom into an entirely different person.
The shadows of her past seemed to fade, and her reticence to be part of his family and society was mostly gone.
And by night… by night, she now greeted him happily when he came in to satiate his ravenous appetite for her, even though they had not yet consummated the marriage.
“I am just admiring the beauty that is my wife,” he replied, raising a challenging brow. “Is that a problem?”
He loved the way her lips twitched toward a cheeky smile as she blushed.
“No. No problem,” she replied with a lilt in her voice.
“Did you enjoy the opera this evening?” he asked, moving to sit by her side in the carriage.
“It was lovely,” she agreed, shifting in her seat so she could face him.
“And the ballet last week?” he asked.
“I have never seen such beautifully coordinated dances,” she confessed. “Thank you so much for taking me.”
“It was my pleasure,” Adrian replied, slipping his hand under hers.
He watched her intently as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth, as if something was not quite right.
“What is it, Bridget?” he asked. “Are you still thinking that our marriage was a mistake?”
She did seem happier, yes, but Adrian could not shake the sense that part of her was still poised to flee at the first sign of pressure.
That lingering fragility was precisely why he had not pushed for consummation, no matter how painfully the want for her had gnawed at him.
Her eyes widened slightly at his question now, a flicker of surprise crossing her features, as though she had not expected him to notice at all.
“Oh, no,” she answered quickly. “Nothing like that.”
“But something is wrong,” Adrian prodded. “Are you unhappy?”
“No, no,” she said as her cheeks began to flush.
Adrian’s brow furrowed as he looked over her features, trying to determine what was wrong.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me, and I shall find a solution,” he insisted, and was surprised when she let out a tense laugh.
“I… no, it is not something you can fix,” she began to stammer. “Or rather, I suppose you would have to allow me to… to…”
Adrian looked at her with deepening confusion as her pink blush grew crimson.
“Katie told me something at her party a few weeks ago,” she confessed in a rush.
He felt her hand tighten around his.
“Something that I have very much wanted to try but have had trouble finding the right time to do so,” she explained.
Now he was more curious than ever.
“Well, whatever it is you want to try, my love, you have my permission,” he replied. “I would just prefer to know what precisely it is that you—”
Adrian lost his train of thought as several things happened at once.
Bridget’s lips met his own, sealing over him in a passionate kiss as her hand slid over his inner thigh.
Pleasure spiraled through him as her hand moved further up to his cock, which immediately bobbed and grew toward her touch the moment he felt it.
He captured her cheeks quickly with both hands, taking control of the kiss as her hand began to move slowly up and down the rigid flesh in his breeches.
He spread his legs wider, giving her more access, and he had to break the kiss and groan when her fingers began to loosen the ties of his breeches.
“You have done so much to bring me pleasure,” Bridget rasped as she feathered kisses along his jaw. “You have been so very patient with me.”
Adrian’s eyelashes fluttered shut as she freed his aching cock from the confines of his breeches. He let his head loll back onto the carriage seat, at a loss for words as she wrapped her fingers around his girth and began to stroke him up and down.
“Oh, hell,” he moaned. Pleasure surged through the tip of his cock all the way to the tips of his toes and through his forehead, fueling his pent-up need.
“I wanted to repay you for your patience,” Bridget whispered as he lowered her head.
Adrian tried to reach for words; tried to string a sentence together to tell her that no repayment was needed—but as her tongue so very gently slid over the deep purple of his mushroomed tip, he lost all ability to speak or think.
Only a deep moan released from the depths of his chest as her virgin tongue so innocently and curiously explored the taut veins running up the length of his erection.
“Bridget,” he finally managed to breathe, then nearly shot out of his seat as her mouth came fully down on his cock.
His spine bowed backward as she took him in to the hilt, her gentle suckling nearly bringing him to an end right there.
Another deep moan poured from the depths of his chest as her tight, wet mouth began to move up and down his length. Waves of pleasure, more intense than the last, continually lapped through his groin as Bridget shifted to her knees.
“I rather like those sounds you make,” she purred as she briefly paused to smile up at him.
“Is that so?”
The sight of her there, intent and unflinching, stripped the last trace of composure from Adrian’s face. His breath came harsh and uneven as he reached for her, his fingers threading into her hair and closing there, firm and possessive, anchoring her exactly where he wanted her.
“Look at me,” he commanded hoarsely.
Her gaze lifted at once, wide and luminous, and the effect of it was devastating.
His hand came up then, his fingers threading into her hair and closing there in a firm fist, not cruel but unmistakably possessive.
He held her still with that grip, anchoring her where she was, setting the pace and thrusting deeper and deeper into that delicious mouth of hers.
“That’s it,” he said, his voice rough with effort. “Do not stop.”
The words were barely out before the last of his composure gave way as Bridget picked up an even more enthusiastic pace.
He tipped his head back, breath shuddering from his chest as sensation overtook him, his grip tightening reflexively, guiding and holding her exactly where he wanted her as she milked the last drop of his seed.
When it was over, he drew a slow, unsteady breath and looked down at her again, his extraordinary wife. His hand remained in her hair for a heartbeat longer before loosening, his thumb brushing once through the strands as though marking the moment.
He leaned forward then, resting his forehead briefly against hers, his voice lowered.
“You are such a good girl, Bridget,” he said quietly, approval heavy in every word. “So very good. You have no idea what you do to me.”