Her heart was in her throat. “What do you want?”
His Grace—Lewis, she was supposed to call him—hummed. He let his fingers trail over her thigh, as if he was contemplating the answer. Bridget let out a faint, little whimper. Lewis must give her this pleasure. He could not possibly be so cruel as to continue to deny her.
“I want you to beg for it.”
She gasped, the absurdity of the statement shaking her to the core. Her first instinct was to refuse. How could any man of thetonthink of making such a wretched request to a lady?
“I cannot!” she protested. “You must ask for something else. Anything else! I promise I—I can be a good duchess.”
Bridge squeezed her thighs together, trapping his hand between her legs. Still, he refused to move his fingers and bring the pleasure she so desperately wanted.
“Beg for it,” he said, “or you shall not have it. I will keep bringing you to the very edge again and again until you relent. You may think your will is stronger than mine, but I can assure you it is not.”
Bridget roughly rubbed her core against his hand, sobbing with need. Her sex ached, and her thighs trembled. “Please,” she whispered. “Please.”
“Is that begging?” He arched an eyebrow. “You shall have to do better than that.”
Lewis traced his thumb once more over that spot that made her body pulse with need. It felt like a reward, and Bridget leaned into his touch, craving more.
She could not beg but she needed to go over the edge.
Bridget was out of her mind, trying to think of how she might have her release without doing something so utterly degrading. If she had not been so desperate, she was certain that she would have found something, but her body was so hot. Need curled in her core. “Please, please,” she rasped. “Please, Lewis. Let me have my pleasure. I will do anything for you.”
“Good girl,” he purred.
His thumb traced circles over that spot once more, his pace frantic. She groaned and bucked against him. The pressure inside her knotted tighter and tighter, and then?—
White stars danced in her eyes, and Bridget’s body trembled. She cried out as pleasure crashed over her in waves. It was divine. Exquisite! Bridget felt as though she was more herself than she ever had been, and once the wave had passed, she let herself relax against the wall. Her breath came in heavy pants of air, her chest heaving.
Her husband’s eyes gleamed, his expression dark. “I know precisely what to give you and when you need it,” Lewis said. “You would do well to remember that, Bridget.”
Abruptly, he released her wrists and turned away. Bridget grasped the wall behind her and took great heaving breaths of air. Her body was lax and calm with the last lingering remnants of pleasure still coursing through her.
Bridget’s husband was…
Beyond anything she had imagined.
CHAPTER 20
When Bridget smiled at him from the doorway of his study, Lewis straightened his spine and clasped his hands over his desk, making clear with his posture that he was the master of this house. That fact should have been apparent to anyone, but he suspected that the young miss was plotting against him. She seemed to be an inexhaustible well of mischief.
“Did you desire something, my lady?” he asked.
She curled her body around the doorframe and watched him with bright, sparkling eyes. The mid-morning sunlight swept through the window across the room. Bridget looked nearly angelic, her red-blonde hair like a cloud of fire surrounding her delicate face.
Her smile widened. “I only wished to see what you might be doing, husband of mine.”
Lewis did not believe her for an instant.
“Managing the Dukedom,” he said dryly.
“That sounds…” she trailed off. “Quite unromantic.”
“Much of it is. Did you imagine I would spend my days slaying dragons and riding a white, majestic steed into battle?”
Bridget sighed forlornly. “I might be allowed to dream.”
He snorted. “Do you not have enough tasks with which to occupy your time? You are a duchess now.”
