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The scoundrel knew how to tempt a woman to ruination. “I will walk.” She determined. Better a three-mile walk with a wide riding habit, than melt to a puddle for the unnerving man to witness.
“Of course not.” He extended his hand to her, inviting. “You want it, too.” His stance assumed that of a wolf ready to pounce.
“Your arrogance is outrageous.” Her glare focused on his long fingers. She could almost feel the warmth of them, without even touching him.
He took her hand and pulled her to his muscled length, lacing her with firmness. She lifted her head to his, as he lowered his to hers, their noses touching. “We can stay here all day.” He murmured hoarse. “I can think of numerous… pastimes for us to engage in at the moment.” Their breaths mingled, her eyes ogled his lips. “All involving both our persons. Together.”
“Damn you!” She hissed hotly.
“Yes, I am damned, indeed.” His hands spanned her waist and lifted her to the high horse as if she weighed nothing.
He mounted behind her, his arms holding her to him. He gave her the reins. “Ride.” He commanded without the least compunction.
To ride a horse like that was all she ever wanted, had she the chance. That he afforded it was the bitter-sweet irony of her life.
She kept the horse on a slow pace as she did not know it well. The heat of the Duke on her back, behind her legs, on her… oh.. the ridge of him. Her breath hitched, whilst she made a conscious effort not to moan.
“This is what you do to me.” The hoarseness of it pouring on her like warm honey. “What you have always done to me.” He tightened one arm and his other hand palmed her ribs, going perilously up her torso.
With a mix of shame and greediness, she counted the seconds for him to palm her breast. It had been delicious when he did it in the armoury, her mounds touched for the first time in earnest.
He reached her breast at last, and it rejoiced even under the layers of fabric. The sensations so intense, her head fell on his broad chest with a sigh. That made it easy for his mouth to find her jaw to rasp it with his bristle. Her breasts swelled, her skin burned, her heart raced.
She was doomed.
A sudden hand was hitching her skirt over her right leg, his hand sneaking under it to her…
“One day it is going to be me you will ride, not a horse.” He rumbled before he took her ear between his teeth.
Ride him? How? She did not have the chance to ask aloud because his right hand caressed the inside of her thigh, where the stocking did not cover. The skin impossibly sensitive, his fingers impossibly smart.
There was not a chance of not moaning. He drove her to a compete blackout, transformed her in a bunch of sensations, mindless, hungry. And then his fingers found her drawers’ slit. Worse, they gaped it to find her… goodness! He delved in, yes, delved, for she was so… so wet!
“Did your husband do this to you?” Her ears jubilant with his rasp.
Her body all lax, she barely encountered forces to shake her head on his chest with feeble admission.
“I did not think so. He sounds like a dullard.” His open mouth found her throat.
By now, she became a brainless body with soaring temperature and completely pliable under his ministrations.
When his finger touched where she ached, it brought on excruciating pleasure and gnawing starvation. A gross sound escaped her lips, she did not even care. She moved on the saddle to give him more access to parts she never knew to be there.
Merciless, his finger mocked her self-control, moving without shame, without restraint.
“This is what I wanted to do that first time.” He rasped again. His fingers sank deeper. “But I deemed debauching a debutante too dishonourable.” He nibbled her other ear.
Heat spread over her skin as his fingers tormented her to unbearable point. “Romulus.” She did not recognise her voice.
“Yes, call my name, Annabel.” He should have pity on her. But he never ceased the torture.
“Please.” She begged, as her thighs parted even more for him.
Tension increased, a furnace grew inside her, she could not breath, could not think, could only revel. The ache soared, her world darkened, her muscles locked. Then the universe deflagrated in one shattering explosion and she screamed to the wind.
His finger never stopped up to the moment she collapsed on him, eyes closed, lips parted and a laxity she never imagined before today.
Riding astride never would have the same meaning again.
