“Is Lord Dunmore your lover?” He blurted.
She dropped her hand and blinked at him. Her brain went silent. It stopped working. “Lord Dunmore…” She wrinkled her brow and stared at her nose. What on earth? Lord Dunmore? The Duke of Ironcrest’s best mate? “I’ve barely spoken to the man.” Let alone had any physical interactions with the man. Unless one counted when he nudged her into the Serpentine. But she didn’t blame him. She had wanted to jump in herself after her mother’s antics.
She looked up at her husband, who was wringing his hands in front of him. “Why would you think such a thing?”
“I-I overheard you last night speaking of a man. I assumed your lover. Urm. Derek.”
Oh.Oh.She giggled. Oh, oh, ohhhh. That was actually quite hilarious.
“Derek is my dildo, Fitz.”
Fitz’s face burst into flames. Red as hot coals and just as searing. She could practically feel the heat pouring off him.
“Purely named for alliterative purposes, I might add.”
He was nodding again. “I see,” he said in a garbled voice.
She bit her lip as he struggled to rein in his embarrassment. Apparently, she was the debaucher in this relationship. It wasn’t her preference. When it came to amorous activities, she wanted to be ordered about, tossed around, dominated. But, staring at her husband—whose eye was twitching slightly—she found she didn’t mind the thought of being the corrupter nearly as much as she originally thought. Because corrupting her husband held a potent appeal.
And perhaps… “If you ever want to, urm”—she took a steadying breath and lifted her chin—“if you ever want to watch me use him, like last night, I wouldn’t be opposed…”
All right. So she needed a bit of work when it came to her sexual demands. But one didn’t go from wanting to be controlled to confidently being the one in control in the span of a day.
His eyes widened and his breaths came faster. “You-gurrh-you-you.”
Her lips twitched. Her poor husband.
He sucked in a breath. “You would want me towatch?Y-you would be all right with that?”
That sounded a tad like interest. “Yes. I…” Georgiana licked her lips. “I like the idea of watching and being watched,” she managed.
Her husband’s pupils flared, and he groaned. Oh dear. That groan was way too reminiscent of the other day. Visions of a grunting Fitz with an axe flooded her mind, and heat flooded her core.
He was much closer than before, his hands gripping his desk on either side of her, caging her in. When had that happened? His breath puffed over her lips, his eyes locked on them. The scent of whisky danced over her skin with each warm breath. Sharp, sweet, astringent. She could almost taste it.
“I’d like to kiss you again, wife.” His voice dropped to a deep, rich velvet. “And this time I’d like to do it properly.”
Georgiana trembled. Yes. Yes, yes,yes.She should probably say that out loud. “Yes.”
“All right. I shall.”
But he didn’t. He rambled.
“I promise it’ll be better than the last time—not that the last time really counts. I’m not sure that could even be considered a kiss. I panicked, you see. I don’t think I’d ever been so nervous, and I’d never been with a virgin, and then I was worried, what if I couldn’t make you orgasm? Did you even know what an orgasm was? Obviously, after last night, I know you know. I mean. You do. Youknow. Obvious—”
“Fitz?” Goodness, she couldn’t get her husband to speak for the life of her, but now,now,when she wanted silence, she couldn’t get him toshut up.
“Yes?” He swallowed audibly.
“Hush already and kiss me.”
He nodded succinctly and finally, finally, her husband closed the distance. And unlike the last time, he didn’t freeze. Soft, warm, sure lips passed over hers.
A hand slid up her back, guiding her flush against the solidness that was her husband. A soft rumble left her. Had she just purred? But who wouldn’t purr when pressed into a hard, chiseled man.
Fitz’s other hand nestled into her chignon and cradled her skull. He took full advantage of that leverage and slanted his mouth over hers. Over and over. Overwhelmed her with open-mouthed kisses.
And then he angled his head and sank inside her. She moaned at the contact, of the slick glide of tongue against tongue. There was no hesitancy this time. He filled her, devoured her with almost a feral need. Something had changed in her hesitant, apprehensive husband, and she was at a loss to know the reason why. Perhaps, like her, the need had stretched too taut and snapped. Allowing for pure, unadulterated hunger. Two people desperately hungry for each other, the barrier of discomfort and anxiety that usually existed between them gone. Blessedly gone.
