“I certainly hope so,” breathed Frederick as Marianne kissed his neck.
“It’s just that guilt has tormented me. And other sensations. To learn that the person I saw was you!”
A sob escaped. Oh no, he’d made her cry!
“I should have told you sooner,” he said. “I heard your music and saw you at the Forest and had to have you. Had to make you my wife. My duchess. It sounded like madness even to me, and I thought my wishes would scare you if laid bare.”
“And yet I saw you quite bare — save your mask — well before we were introduced,” she said, her eyes gleaming.
“You’ll embarrass me, duchess,” he said, suddenly feeling abashed.
“You think you’re the only wanton in the family. Though I have no experience with men other than you, I had thoughts galore after our encounter.”
“Did you now?” he asked, liking the direction of this conversation.
“I touched myself. I thought of you, your body, and I imagined you dominating me. Using me like the women who visited that townhouse.”
Frederick could only hold her close, bend his knees to press his clothed cock into the hollow between her legs, and soak up the warmth pouring from it.
“Did it help?” he rasped.
“Not enough,” she replied, just as breathy.
Frederick was pulling at her skirts before he realized what he was doing, fumbling through the diaphanous fabric and finding the place between her thighs to slide his fingers. That pelt of fur, so soft he wished to rub his face in it. Her welcoming,splitting lips anointed with slick honey. That grasping channel that sucked on his exploring finger.
She was perfect. Wet. And they had shared their secrets.
All that remained was to celebrate their full union, as Buck and wife.
“You feel ready, my wife,” he whispered, giving the softest of thrusts from just one finger. He wanted their coupling to be overwhelming and nearly too much. And he suspected his wife would want the same if she knew how pleasurable a little self-denial would feel.
“I want you,” she said. “I want this. To experience…”
“Getting fucked like my little vixen?”
Marianne nodded, a blush spreading down her neck becomingly. How lovely it would look when streaked with mud.
“Then you’d better run, my love. Because you’ve a big, bad stag coming to fuck your cunt.”
He slapped her on the arse and threw the door to his study open, letting in the chill night and offering a path that led straight into the estate’s park.
Chapter 9
Marianne had been transportedinto raptures at the gauzy fabric, flowers, ribbons, and — most of all — the delicate matching slippers when Frederick had sent a dress for her to wear this evening.
Now, as she tore down a garden path leading into the forest of the park, she cursed Frederick for gifting her such impractical shoes. They slipped even on the paving stones of the walkway. When she encountered a place with moss, she slid, only regaining her balance at the last moment.
It made her flight into the dark night harrowing in ways she hadn’t expected. The danger was real. She slowed her pace, not wanting to break her neck because of a game.
And then, as she dashed to the treeline, she thought she saw movement. Torches had been lit in the garden, illuminating only the first row of trees.
As with the townhouse where she and Frederick had unexpectedly first seen each other, the treetops were spindly. But these living specimens now sprouted green shoots and buds, preparing to burst into their summer abundance.
Below them, Marianne shivered. She’d failed to grab a wrap and had to rub her exposed forearms while running forward.
And then she spotted something again, and it wasn’t just the awakening trees. To her right, she saw antlers. The light’s angle made the eye sockets of the familiar mask from the Grand Bucks revelries appear empty.
She ran towards him, thrilled that their game had come to a safe and quick conclusion. But as she drew near, everything seemed wrong. This man, nearly a giant, would even tower over Frederick.
