Page 29 of My Demanding Duke

Brimming with bonhomie, Bartie took Anna’s hand and placed a kiss upon the back of it, before bidding Hugh goodbye and disappearing—mercifully—back into the crowd.

“What a delight Lord Beaufort is,” Anna commented as she watched Bartie mingle. “Have you known each other long?”

“Too long,” Hugh muttered as he ushered her toward the exit.

He felt somewhat awkward at Bartie having brought up the “L” word; love was not part of Hugh’s usual lexicon. Was that what he felt toward Anna? Desire: certainly. Protectiveness: without a doubt. But, romantic love? Surely that was a mere idea, invented by reprobate poets with drinking problems and debt.

“Well, I do hope our paths will cross again,” Anna said firmly, tilting her chin in that defiant way that set Hugh’s pulse racing.

He felt a stab of jealousy toward Lord Beaufort; what would it be like to approach the world with his same gentle ease? To make everyone feel instantly comfortable in your presence, instead of awed and a little afeared?

Hugh did not dwell on this too long. A life adjacent to power rather than as the holder of it had been open to him once, but that door had slammed shut the day Jack died. He did not like to ruminate on what ifs.

Outside was chilly, the warmth of the Spring day long disappeared. Hugh hailed their carriage, which was waiting a bit away, then turned to Anna to make certain she was comfortable. He frowned as he pulled her cloak tighter around her, unhappy to think she might catch a cold.

“I should have told you to wait inside,” he said apologetically.

“I have never been so warm in my life,” she assured him with a smile, taking a gloved hand to the sliver-fur collar and stroking it fondly.

Something about that action stoked desire in Hugh’s belly. He felt his manhood stir at the idea of her naked beneath the cape, the soft fur caressing her silky skin.

Mercifully, the carriage arrived before all the blood in Hugh’s body rushed to his cock. What a scandal that would have been if he had been sighted at full mast in public. Being married to Anna truly was like reliving his teenage years, he thought ruefully.

Hurriedly, he assisted his wife to alight—allowing his hands to linger on her waist—before following her inside.

The footman clicked the door shut and Hugh turned to Anna, intent on solicitously covering her knees with a blanket. But as she turned her face toward him, her ethereal beauty caused something inside Hugh to snap.

He could not stand the torture of being so close to her without touching her a second longer. With a groan of desire and defeat, he reached out and pulled her into his lap.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked, wriggling her bottom in protest.

As said bottom was placed directly on top of Hugh’s aching cock, this did not help her protest.

“Kissing my wife,” he said throatily, as he placed a hand on the back of her head to draw her down into a searing kiss.

He was relieved when she responded eagerly to the embrace, her arms wrapping around his neck.

He was gentle at first, softly worshiping her lips, but impatience and desire soon overtook him. He pulled her closer, so that her breasts were pressed against his chest, pillaging her mouth with his tongue.

She did not pull back from his assault. Instead, she responded with a sigh of longing that set Hugh on fire.

“I need you facing me,” he whispered, as he pulled away from her for a moment.

With strong arms, he lifted her bodily so that she was straddling him, a leg on either side. His hands found her skirts, hitching them up so that he could pull her down properly atop his hardness.

Had she not been wearing drawers and he trousers, Hugh was certain that he would have plunged his cock deep inside her, so fierce was his need. Restricted by circumstance, he kept one hand on her hip, urging her to grind against him, as his other hand pushed open her cape.

Her straddled position meant that her breasts were level with Hugh’s face—much to his delight. The bodice of her dress low enough to allow Hugh to press his mouth against the swell of her bosom, but even that was not enough to sate him.

“I will buy you a new one,” he promised his slightly confused—but thoroughly aroused—wife, before taking his other hand from her hip and using both hands to rip the bodice apart.

“What are you—?” Anna said, but she was unable to finish her question for she moaned with longing as her breasts spilled forth and Hugh caught one pert nipple in his mouth.

He suckled it greedily, lightly fondling her other hard bud with his free hand. He bucked his hips, urging her to press herself against his hardness, painfully aware that he was on the verge of spilling his seed in his breeches.

She whimpered with need, her naked desire threatening to send Hugh completely over the edge.

Mercifully—for her virginity at least—the carriage drew to a halt. They were home.

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