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“Why not? Being fond of them is a good start.” His head turned to her. He should have thought of teaching her when they came to the country during the year they’d been together. It just didn’t occur to him.
To tell the truth, Drake was still reeling from their wedding night. That ragged appetiser had caused him to be even hungrier.
As soon as it’d been decently feasible, he’d taken her to their chambers for a thoroughly sating night. But it didn’t happen before the servants made it a point to serve a special dinner for the newlyweds. So, Drake had to suffer through the romantic meal, barely able to wait. The stares they’d exchanged over glasses of wine and morsels of food had been positively torturous. Finally, in their chambers, their first joining had proved urgent. First of several. But after that, they’d taken their time with each other.
“I’ll write what you teach me, and I’ll not forget.” Her hands demurely folded on her lap. No one would ever imagine the cataclysm she threw him in the previous night.
“A wise technique since you memorise scripts easily.” He supported.
Drake took her to the secluded creek in the woods. They’d already made long walks and picnics on that spot. He helped her down the gig, certain she’d learn to ride quickly.
She walked to the edge of the gurgling water. Thick foliage surrounded the crystalline creek, now intensely green with spring setting in.
Her nostrils inhaled the clean air deeply. “I missed it here.” She admitted.
Her back to him, he didn’t realise what she was doing until her cloak fell to the leafy ground. Then her bonnet. Her gloves followed.
“What are you doing, woman?” Mesmerised, he couldn’t take his eyes from her.
“Going for a swim. The other times, the weather didn’t favour it.” Her boots left her feet.
His new wife was going to kill him in less than a week after their wedding. And he didn’t even care because his arousal stole the blood from his brain.
He watched as the simple dress she wore pooled at her feet. Stays, down. Chemise, down. Stockings, down.
Emerging from his trance, he hurriedly tore off his own clothes while she shed her drawers, walked to the water, and submerged in the middle of the creek, only her shoulders and head above water.
He prowled to her cock up in the air, fully appreciated by her. As he reached her, his thick arms banded her waist, his mouth lowering to cover one breast. Her head fell back with a moan.
“Goddamnit, wife! You will make a rag out of me too soon.” And shifted breasts.
Her legs wrapped him, her hands tracing his jaw and roving down his body. He took her to a shallower part where he sat her and dove between her legs, his hands tweaking her nipples. She opened more for him, propping, on one hand, the other pulling at his head. He lapped at her sex just above the water. She came with a primal cry in the middle of the woods.
The sounds emitting from her made him even more febrile. "I can't wait for a second longer." He rasped as he reclined her on the shallow water and came over her, his arms banding her waist. And then he plunged deep and true. She sobbed, he grunted. He retreated and surged with more intent.
“Drake,” she called, her hips seeking him.
He retreated and thrust back, out of his mind with need.
“Hester,” her legs wrapped around him, pulled him even deeper. “You’re so hot inside!” His breath laboured. “I’ll explode like a cannonball with too much gunpowder.”
“Yes,” she moaned. “Do it, but don’t stop. Never stop!”
He thrust once more and her channel gripped him to an agonising point, her sobs echoing around them. And then it became too much. Like a madman, he let go with a wild grunt, washing her with everything he had. Both fell on the lapping water, sated, and exhausted.
Too soon did they have to drive back to town. Everybody in the theatre expected them for the scheduled play. Time flew, but Hester didn’t mind it. Her commitment to the play would never falter.
Even though her doubts about the future caused her to overthink, their break had been surprisingly delightful. She’d not imagined they’d have such fiery nights and, well, days after being intimate for so many months. Drake used to be open-minded, and she liked to be the same in return.
Now, giving the final touches to her costume, she neared the closed curtains and peeked out. The theatre seemed even more crowded than on the premiere night. Hester’s heart gave a loud jump and started a hectic beating. It’d be the first presentation after her wedding. Undoubtedly, the whole ton had heard of Lord Worcester marriage and to whom. She didn’
t have time to talk to anyone yet, none of the ladies she called friends at least. Drake and she had arrived in London late afternoon, right on time for her to come to the theatre and prepare herself.
“My esteemed Sarah,” Flynn in costume, playing the duke, declared. “Remain in this cottage I built for you. And we will be happy forever!” A hand on his heart, the duke gestured to the cottage painted on the flat at the back of the stage.
She’d said those lines of the final act night after night. Hester played her part almost automatically.
“Your Grace,” she intoned her lines. “Your generous offer melts my heart. But being a mere afterthought in your existence would tear me to shreds.”
