Her body vibrated and stilled again, her sex gripping the life out of his cock. Releasing her breasts, he grabbed the nape of her neck and pulled her to him, his free arm wrapping around her body, holding her as she was wracked with one orgasm after another.
She kissed him, wild, without restraint, and he couldn’t help but cling to her tighter. The beating of her heart pounded against his chest. Her hard nipples pressed against him. This beautiful,fierce woman was his, and he would hold on to her as long as humanly possible.
Flipping her over, Hunt took her hands and placed them over her head. He held them to the bed with one hand and lifted her leg with the other.
His movements were deliberate, deep, steady. He kissed her, his tongue sliding against hers, unhurriedly, like he had all the time in the world, because for her, he did.
His thrust increased, becoming frantic. He tried to will himself to stop and do the sensible thing and complete on the duvet, but he couldn’t leave her heavenly depths.
“Delia!” he cried against her lips, as her body shook again with another orgasm.
He stayed seated inside of her, the slow caress of their kisses calming his frantic nerves. Hunt rolled over, pulling her with him, refusing to stop touching her for even a second.
There were no sounds in the room but the quiet crackle of the hearth and their erratic breathing.
She kissed his chest, her hand teasing up and down it. “I-Is that what it’s supposed to be like?” she asked breathlessly.
He chuckled, kissing her forehead. The truth was it had never been like that for him. “It will be from this moment on.”
The words hung in the air, as they laid on the bed. If Hunt had any say in the matter, he’d never let Adelia St. George go.
Chapter Eleven
Delia awoke, stretching her ridiculously sore body. She never imagined such intimate places could be tender, but her thighs felt like she had run to Scotland. Her sex throbbed as if he were still inside of her. Delia’s heavy tongue felt like she had overindulged in wine when, in fact, she hadn’t even finished the small glass she had.
She ran her tongue against her swollen upper lip, still feeling the pressure of his kisses hours later.
The previous night’s events replayed over and over in her head. There was a small voice inside her head telling her how foolish she was to fall into bed with Hunt, but with his arms still wrapped tightly around her, it was impossible to feel foolish at all.
Her previous lover, Clarence, had been kind in his endeavors, but never had she felt anything remotely like these intense feelings, nor had they done such wicked things.
She’d heard of such acts from a kitchen maid, Ellen, who she’d gotten close too before the maid had married and movedaway. But Delia never imagined that she would experience such pleasures or give them for that matter. Yet she had done both.
“Are you well?” he asked, causing her to start.
He pulled her closer, his nose burying in the alcove of her neck. Delia relaxed in his arms, the sensation of being protected and wanted overwhelming her. Her entire life she’d always felt on the verge of being thrown out into the streets at any moment. The late duchess would threaten that very outcome anytime Delia’s father would leave on an extended journey.
Delia slowly turned her head to gaze over her shoulder. His hard member pressed against her bare rear, alerting her to the fact that they were both completely naked as the day they were born.
Her cheeks heated from the desire in his eyes, as his hand began a slow, treacherous journey from her abdomen to the hairs of her sex.
Delia wasn’t a particularly shy person, but she’d never been completely exposed in front of anyone except perhaps her sister and a lady’s maid—which she never had one of her own.
“Are you well?” he asked again, placing a kiss to her forehead.
Swoon.
Delia was going to swoon, like a simpering debutante, and how could she not after the previous evening’s activities. There was nothing to be done about it, and she was thankful that they were already in bed.
Together.
Hunt was even more glorious in the morning. His usual neat beard was thicker and rougher from lack of care. His green eyes sparkled like he knew what his words and actions did to her.
“Quite well.” She turned in his arms, emboldened at their newfound closeness.
It wouldn’t do to dwell on what would happen once they returned to London. For now, Delia wanted to enjoy this.
When she’d decided to end her innocence, Delia had hoped for an experience like she had with Hunt. One that would satisfy her for the rest of her days. Her stepmother had often reminded Delia that she would never find a love match, or a gentleman who would accept a duke’s by-blow as a wife. She’d accepted that narrative as her own, but now, a small spark of hope lived in her chest, and that scared her more than anything else.
