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Drake halted, his hand on his cravat, his valet not yet arrived, and eyed her. “Sure, if it’s what you wish.”
Her brows pleated. Wish had nothing to do with it. "The upper echelons of society have so many rituals. Different addresses to different titles, the number of waltzes I'll be expected to dance, invitations I should accept and make. I know nothing of it." She raised her insecure glance at him. "I don't want to embarrass you."
His strides brought him to stand right before her, his hands bracing his hips. “I care nothing for any of this.” He rasped. “But if it makes you feel more confident, I’ll do it.”
“We must care.” She emphasised. “It’s how they’ll receive our child. If we don’t make an effort, they’ll shun him or her.”
Long seconds elapsed as he studied her. “Yes,” he answered at last, “you have a point.” And took her hand to pull her up. “We’ll put the little one first.” He rumbled before his mouth slanted over hers.
Surprise and pleasure made a sound echo in her throat. Her arms drew about him as his clasped her to his taut frame.
“Damn it all, I missed you!” He rasped on her lips as his head moved to take more.
Her spine met the wall without her even having realised he’d moved. His hands lowered to her hips to press her to his ready erection.
“Drake,” she managed in between kisses.
“Hm.” And coaxed her mouth to open more for him.
“Dinner…”
“To hell with it!” And his head slid down to place an open kiss on the curve of her neck. “I’m hungry for something else.” And nipped the sensitive skin there. “It’s been ages!”
His urgency got her ready too. One of her knees rose to bracket his thigh, dress, and all. He bunched her skirts so her legs could wrap him. And he rolled his hips as if he were already inside her, putting more fuel to their fire. Both groaned with eagerness.
His hand had gone to her neckline as he lifted his head abruptly. "Devil take me! I cannot do this on our wedding night." Hazy eyes met hers.
She gave him a saucy grin. “It’s not night yet.”
He chuckled. “And my cock is already crying for you.”
“Poor little thing.” She mocked. There was nothing little about him, of course.
“Little, you say.” And he moved for her to register the long, thick ridge of him.
Her legs lowered and her knees bent to the level of said body part. “Let’s see this poor martyr.”
“Hester…” As she undid the buttons on his breeches, his expression went quite martyrized.
That hard member popped out red and strained. Her eyes rose to him to meet his intent on her, a ruddy colour on his cheekbones. “Let’s give it a drop of solace, shall we.” And her mouth took him hungrily in.
“Bloody circles of hell!” He swore as his expression mixed pleasure and agony, his head bending back, his palms propping on the wall.
He didn’t fit in her mouth, so she had to enlist the help of her both hands to caress the long stem. In response, his hips moved back and forth in tandem with her mouth.
"Hester…" he panted and moved. She moved also, her tongue restless on his glans. "F—! I'm so close." One of her hands went to play with his balls. "Please, don't stop." He growled. "It's going to be b-bi—aah." And then he was pouring profusely in her mouth, and she took everything until he sagged.
She buttoned him up and rose to her feet. “After the appetisers, I suggest we go to dinner.” And eyed him from under her lashes.
“You’re in so much trouble.” He drawled before opening the door.
Through the country lane, Drake drove the gig. "After our child is born, I'll teach you how to ride." He started as they set off for a ride the next morning.
“I’ve never sat on a horse in my entire life.” She mocked herself.
"It’s not that complicated. All you have to do is learn how to sit and manage the reins." Drake said as a pleasant spring day made its appearance.
“I love horses, but I’ll never be an outstanding amazon, you’ll understand,” she said as she arranged her skirts.
